CHAPTER TWO

 

P

oppa stood in front of Airily, Fluppence, and Witter like a general reviewing his troops. They stood at
attention. Airily tried not to laugh, biting her cheek to keep the giggles away. Fluppence and Witter shook with barely-controlled laughter. Even Poppa smiled, thin but genuine—the first in ages.

“Alright,” Poppa said. He combed a hand through the spiky brown crest of his bangs, making sure his hair pointed skyward and wouldn’t flop in his face during such an
important speech.

“Alright,” he repeated. “You kids are too young to
remember what it’s like when new humans move into the house. But back when I was your age, the Spooners moved out and the Jacobis moved in, long before I met your mom.” He sucked in a breath, and his smile pressed into a pained line. “So, there’s work to be done! Are you up for the job?”

“Yes, sir!” Airily, Fluppence, and Witter said in unison. They tried for a snappy salute but ended up knocking elbows instead.

Poppa covered his laugh with a cough. “Very good. Now, we don’t know when the new people will move in. It could be soon, only a week or two. Or it could be more than a month. Either way, we need to be prepared.” Poppa drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. “We must check all the secret passageways and doors, repair and clean them all, evict the mice, and make sure we haven’t left anything downstairs. One last sweep and then we don't go into the House anymore. Sometimes workers come to make repairs before the people come. I’ll be testing the taps and plumbing since we’re to have running water again.”

Everyone cheered. For years they’d had to fetch thimbles of water from the neighbors to keep a plastic bottle with a spigot filled. In winter they melted snow, and when it rained, they put bowls under the drips in the roof.

Fluppence raised her hand. “Will we have electricity, too?”

“Yes,” Poppa told her.

The Christmas lights strung around their attic apartment had been useless for a year and a half. Electricity had lasted longer than the water, but both had been shut off as the House remained empty.

“It might not hurt to check the wiring to make sure mice haven’t chewed through it,” Poppa added. “Fluppence,
Witter, you’ll be working in the House with me. Airily, you’ll be collecting most of the food until I’m done with the house. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Airily said, saluting again.

Poppa laughed freely this time, and Airily was pleased she’d been the one to cause it.

With the family meeting over, it was time for dinner.
Airily got the plates from a set of cupboards made from a jewelry box her grandfather had repurposed. Most of their dishes were jar lids and screw tops rescued from the trash.

She set the plates on the table, a doll furniture picnic bench that had been in the family for generations. Poppa got the largest plate, a lid from a jar of capers She set herself the pretty red lid from a jam jar, and Witter and Fluppence got the last two screw tops from spice jars.

“Witter, get the silverware.”

Obedient as ever, Witter fetched the silverware—which was really woodenware—from a cupboard made from an old tea tin. Poppa whittled all their silverware from well-dried oak in the evenings. They had forks, spoons, chopsticks, and knives with aluminum blades made from soda cans.

Airily fluffed her wings with pride. They came from a long line of clever sparrow fae. Poppa’s grandfather had built their whole house. He’d carved it from a wooden roof beam that intersected with the chimney brick. In the kitchen, there was an ancient brick oven built into the chimney. It had kept them warm in winter when the house was empty.

Airily and Witter took their seats while Poppa and
Fluppence served the meal. Flup’s sole skill was cooking. Her little sister liked two things: food and books. After Momma was gone, Fluppence and Poppa took over kitchen duties.

Poppa placed a platter of soft-boiled peanuts in the center of the table. He sliced through the peanuts and divvied out portions. Next to the peanuts was a fried cake made of ground sunflower seeds and whatever fruit Fluppence had handy to mash in. Topping the cakes was a fresh salad of greens taken from the Andersons’ garden, including fresh basil and oregano.

Airily grinned as she ate. Soon enough there’d be more than stale peanuts.

 

A rumble shook the house, waking Airily. In the
pillowed-nest next to hers, Fluppence slept on, oblivious to the noise.

Their bedroom door banged open, and Witter bounced in.

“It’s here! The moving truck!” he said. He hopped in place, tail feathers twitching in excitement.

Fluppence pulled her blanket over her head and muttered, “Go away.”

“Let’s go see.” Airily tossed her blanket to the floor and jumped out of bed, excited the people had come so quickly. Only a week had passed since they’d finished getting the House ready.

She held Witter’s hand the way she used to before he’d become such a tattling pest. They charged down the short hall—chimney brick on one side, wood and plaster on the other. In the living room, they picked up the pace, racing through the combination kitchen and dining room. Finally, the pair crept through the roof beam tunnel leading outside. The front door of their apartment opened under the eaves, disguised by a fake nest made from dusty twigs and wood glue. Airily and Witter jostled to be first. She elbowed him sharply, and Witter was forced to let her win.

Airily launched from the nest. The wings on her back spread and caught the summer air. Tail feathers fanned, she tucked up her spindly bird-legs. Her pajamas flapped as she flew over the roof, settling at the front of the House with a good view of the front yard and driveway.

Witter landed beside her a split-second later, and they stared down at the huge moving truck. Men in identical blue shirts were opening the back of the truck and pulling out a long ramp.

“Are those the new people?” Witter asked.

“I hope not,” Airily said.

The two men didn’t look friendly. One was a tall man with big arms and a wobbling gut. The other was skinny and tattooed. As the men piled boxes on the dead grass of the front yard, a car pulled in behind the truck, leaving lots of space for the movers to work. Airily nudged Witter. “I bet those are the people.”

Witter nodded, and they watched intently, leaning
forward until their claws gripped the edge of the rough
shingles.

The first one out of the car was the driver, a tall, willow-thin woman with brown skin. Next, the passenger side door opened, and a man stepped out, smiling at the house. He was a good bit shorter than the woman, but his tightly-curled hair added an inch or two. They walked onto the lawn and clasped hands.

“That must be her husband,” Airily said.

“Our new home,” the man said with a grin. He pushed thick glasses up his nose and craned his neck to look up at the roof.

Instinctively, Airily and Witter broke and flew in separate directions. Airily landed on the red brick of the living room fireplace. Witter circled the roof, then settled on the other side of the chimney.

“Come on Josh, we’re here,” the woman yelled, turning back toward the car.

Slowly the back door of the car opened and a boy got out. “But Mom…” He frowned at the house, then at the land around them. “Why are we so far from town?”

The boy wore glasses, like the man, but had longer, springy curls of hair. He was thin, like his mother. His jeans were baggy, and his T-shirt hung loosely on pointed
shoulders.

“There aren’t even people here, Dad.” The boy’s voice tightened into a whine. “Just trees and stuff.”

The father laughed and said, “You’ll get to like it, I promise. Wait till you see the stars from here. It’s nothing we could’ve seen in L.A. No more driving hours to Mojave.”

“And you’ll make friends in school,” his mother said.

The boy scoffed. “Not with a bunch of farm kids, I won’t.”

Witter fluttered over to Airily. “What if they don’t stay?” he whispered.

“They’ll stay. They haven’t even unpacked yet.”

The boy kicked the withered lawn, sending up a dusty puff of dirt. His parents exchanged nervous looks.

“Give it a chance. Things often turn out for the best.” The father put a hand on his son’s slumped shoulders.

Josh’s face pinched into an angry pout. “Whatever,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Come on,” the mother said. “We have a lot of work to do to make this house livable. And you’re helping.”

Both parents guided Josh over to the car, and with a beep, the trunk opened. Airily expected boxes, but the family unloaded groceries instead. As they headed for the front door, her stomach rumbled at the sight. Real food. Bags and bags of it.

The people unlocked the House, and the movers carried in the neatly labeled boxes.

“I don’t see a pet,” Witter said.

“It’s possible a pet will come later,” Airily said. She was annoyed she hadn’t noticed before him. No reason for him to get a big head.

“Maybe,” Witter agreed. “Anyway, let’s go tell Poppa.”

She nodded. They launched into the air and flew toward the camouflaged entrance of their home within the House. Witter put on a burst of speed as the fake nest came into sight. He made a fancy mid-air roll. Airily was forced to dodge as he cut her off. He landed first and disappeared into the nest, making sure he’d be first to tell Poppa and
Fluppence about the new people.

Airily landed just behind him, frowning. That was fancier flying than she’d expected. She’d have to stay sharp and put in some practice hours to keep him from besting her again.

Inside the nest was a landing platform of twigs. Their front door, when shut, blended seamlessly with the side of the house, but Witter had left it wide open. Airily closed the door behind her and hopped down the hall. Witter’s voice was raised in excitement, and it carried through the halls.

“There’s a huge truck and two movers, and it looks like it’s just a family of three with no pets,” Witter said as Airily rushed into the kitchen behind him.

Fluppence smiled, playing with the taps. Two days ago, the water had come on. The pipes were putting out rusty pinkish-brown sludge, but it was something.

“They have food, too,” Airily added, not to be outdone by Witter.

Fluppence spun around, a light in her eyes. “Food?
Already? What kind? Did you see any labels?” She left the novelty of running water and skipped over to Airily, fluffed with excitement.

“No, I didn’t,” Airily said. “But they had bags of groceries in their car. We can go down and look tonight.”

“No, we can’t,” Poppa said from the bathroom doorway. Several pipes had sprung leaks, and he was racing to patch them.

“Why not?” Airily asked. What was the point of having new people if they couldn’t go collecting from them?

“Wait until they’ve settled into a routine. Find out their habits. When they sleep, and when they go to work. We need to be quiet during the day. No extra noise or they might send an exterminator up here.”

His last remarks were for Fluppence and Witter. The last time there were people in the House, Witter had been five and Fluppence seven. But Poppa’s flat denial of going collecting was aimed squarely at Airily. She bristled at the thought of Poppa not trusting her to go collecting, as if she were some rank amateur like Fluppence or Witter. Airily had been picking up the slack since Momma died three years ago.

Airily squeezed her hands closed, letting her fingernails dig into her palm. A lump rose in her throat, sudden and painful. The aching loss of Momma came back, a fresh rush of sickening hurt. Airily took in a deep breath and swallowed a few times. Even years later she could still remember Poppa coming home, grey-faced, eyes round with shock and shaking like he was caught in a blizzard.

Momma and Poppa had been out collecting when the strap on her bag had broken, falling to the blacktop. She’d landed to retrieve it when a big speeding truck had come out of nowhere, and Momma was gone. There hadn’t even been a body. The truck had taken that away, too.

Airily marched to the bedroom she shared with
Fluppence. She almost forgot to turn the light switch on. The power had come back on a day after the water, but she wasn’t used to having either one yet. A sting of frustration stabbed her chest and her jaw tightened. She could do more than Poppa thought she could.

She changed out of her pajamas, tossing them onto her messy, round bed—a nest made from a discarded, chipped bowl and a mattress stuffed with milkweed and cotton balls.

From deep in the house below came the heavy sounds of movement: thumps, clunks, and men’s voices. There were footsteps on the stairs clomping back and forth. Scuffling from below startled her. Witter and Fluppence's chatter stopped dead.

“I was hoping for a full attic,” said the mother. Airily
already recognized her voice.

“Don’t worry, honey. There’s still plenty of room. It’ll make a nice storage space,” the father said.

A trickle of fear dripped down Airily’s back, and her feathers fluffed in alarm. Only the walls of their house separated them from the humans. She’d forgotten the flipside of having people living in the house—caution and constant
vigilance.

Never be seen. Never get caught.

When the most ancient and powerful fae had left ages ago, they closed the doors of the Fair Lands behind them.

Small fairies stayed. They lived with or depended on
humans, like Airily’s family. Some of the Greater fae, like Black Burn and Owlby, had always lived side by side with people. They simply refused to leave, no matter how
weakened they were.

With the doors of the Fair Lands shut, most magic dried up. There were pools of it in the wild places, and the stronger, older fae still had some. Owlby, for one, was adept, and Black Burn could do some magic, too. But Airily and her family only had their disguise glamour left.

If only Airily had enough magic to use a barrier spell like Burn or Owlby. That would keep the humans from ever
getting into the sparrows’ home.

“Wow,” said Josh. “This is cool. Can it be my room?”

Airily’s heart beat loudly in her ears. No one lived in the attic. It was theirs.

A throb of anger replaced the fear, and she forced herself to move. They couldn’t see her. She was in her house. She tugged on her bloomers, then put on her vest and buttoned it up.

“No, it can’t be your room,” the mother said. “You can barely stand up in here. It’s storage for sure.”

Airily nodded. That’s right. That’s all the attic could be used for. She stuck her tongue out in the general direction of the human’s voices.

“Fine,” Josh groaned. “This place blows.”

“You can take that sass and go pick out a bedroom,” his mother said.

With a loud, exasperated sigh, Josh stomped down the narrow attic stairs.

“We can fit a lot of junk up here,” the father said.

His wife chuckled. “Sure can.”

Their footsteps faded but Airily knew they’d be back with boxes and knick-knacks for storage. The fear and tension drained from her body, but she was mad at herself for being afraid. Once they stowed everything, they wouldn’t return for months, or even years at a time.

“Airily, did you hear that?” Fluppence’s pale, round face peered around the doorframe. She clung to the wall like a vine in need of support.

“I heard. But don’t worry. No one lives in the attic.”

“But, the boy…” Fluppence trailed off. She put her fist up to her face and sucked her knuckle, a nervous habit left over from before she was fledged.

Airily hopped over to Fluppence and gave her a brief, stiff hug. She hadn’t hugged Flup in ages. They’d grown apart since Airily started spending most of her time collecting.

“The attic is storage like always. There’ll be people in and out while they put their stuff up here. Don’t let it get to you, Flup.”

Fluppence nodded and took her hand out of her mouth. Satisfied Flup felt better, Airily grabbed her collecting bag from the slender, bent nail on the wall.

“You’re going out?” Fluppence asked with obvious alarm.

Airily couldn’t stand to wait around in cold terror listening to humans bumble around beneath their feet.

“Someone needs to get food,” Airily said.

Fluppence’s already round eyes went wider, and then she looked at the floor.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Airily cringed. She
regretted the offer the instant she made it, but almost anything was better than leaving Fluppence, small and
terrified, at home.

Her sister looked up, a shine of hope in her eyes. “Really?”

“Sure,” Airily forced a smile. She’d just volunteered for babysitting.

“Let me get my bag.” She bounced past Airily and took down her collecting bag. She shook it out, coughing on a cloud of dust.

Airily shook her head. Fluppence was such a homebody. She’d rather have her nose buried in a book than leave the yard and do anything useful. Fluppence's last collection was a magazine full of celebrity gossip from TV and movies that the fae only got to see through the neighbor’s windows. But Flup read every article twice over because it was something to read.

“Come on.” Airily waved for her to follow.

“Where are we going?” Fluppence asked eagerly. “Not too far, right?”

Thinking for a second, Airily decided on the safest,
closest place where she could get some work done. “The
Leonetti’s.”

“I haven’t been there in ages,” Fluppence said.

“That’s because you never leave the House.” Airily rolled her eyes.

“I do so,” Fluppence said.

As they passed through the living room, Airily told Poppa where they were going.

Poppa looked up from the sink where he stood washing supper dishes from the night before. When he saw Airily with Fluppence, his arched eyebrow rose higher.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding at the two of them together.

She blushed at the approval. There was a part of her that hated getting caught doing something nice for her sister, but she felt better knowing she was helping Poppa.

 

The garden had been picked clean by the Leonetti family, but Fluppence didn’t seem to care. She went straight for the garbage bins, and Airily helped her open the raccoon locks. Fluppence slipped in and dug through the recycling can for reading material.

While Fluppence dumpster dived, Airily flew low over the garden, searching for anything the Leonetti’s may have missed. As Airily wrestled with a woody, overripe green bean, a shadow in the sky caught Airily’s eye. Ever wary, Airily ducked before recognizing Black Burn’s silhouette. She whistled at her friend.

The crow changed course. Airily flew up and landed on the top branch of a stout willow tree. Seconds later, Burn’s weight rocked the same branch.

“Hey, Burn! The people are moving into our House
today,” Airily said, happy to be the first with fresh gossip.

“Oh, yeah? How do they look?” Burn grinned.

“There seems to be only three: a mom, dad, and a boy named Josh. So far, no pets either.”

“Good for you. I’ll tell Owlby.” Burn’s normally sly face turned serious. She leaned down to Airily’s height. “That’s where I’m headed. I found a dead bird in the woods.”

Airily frowned. Regular birds lived short lives, unlike the fae who shared their attributes. A dead bird was sad news but nothing special. Burn wouldn’t be mentioning a dead bird unless she wanted Airily to ask about it.

“What’s so exciting about a dead bird?”

Burn curled her lips in a creepy smile, reminding Airily that crows were carrion birds.

“Well,” Burn said, glee stirring her voice. “It seems there might be a predator in the woods.”

“There are always predators in the woods, fae and beast,” Airily said. Offhand, she could think of nearly a dozen. There was an old Coyote fae and his granddaughter, a couple of
normal foxes, three fox fae, and the usual hawks who patrolled the Road and fields.

“This one didn’t eat its prey,” Burn said. “The bird was torn apart.”

Instinctively, Airily looked for Fluppence but didn’t see her. She whistled the ‘show me’ code—three short trills, a pause, then three more.

The lid of the recycling bin shifted, and Fluppence poked her head out. She looked around as she gave the answering call—a short burst that climbed the musical scale and ended with two high-pitched chirps.

Airily whistled again and waved from the top of the
willow so Fluppence would spot her.

“Let me know what you guys figure out,” Airily said. Cat or rabies, it didn’t matter—both were bad news for fae and beast alike.

Before Burn could say anything, Fluppence winged over. Her cheeks were bright red, beaming with excitement.

“Hey, Burn! Airily! You’ll never guess what I found!” She flew in a tight circle, unwilling to settle on the branch. “A whole book! In the garbage! Help me get it home? Please, Burn. You’re big.”

“Fluppence, where are we going to put it? How big is it?” Airily asked. She doubted they could haul home a hardcover, even with three sets of wings to carry it.

Black Burn just laughed. “Sure, I’ll help.”

Airily let out a disgusted grunt. “You just want to see what Poppa does when we come home with it.”

Burn giggled harder.

“Show me the book.” Airily relented.

Fluppence led them back to the trash can. She’d already dragged the bloated, water-damaged paperback to the
surface.

“We’re not taking that home.” Airily put her scaly foot down. “It’ll never fit through the door.”

“But it’s a whole book,” Fluppence protested. “Do you know how often people throw those out? Not a lot.”

“Tell you what, hatchling,” Burn said. She winked as
Fluppence pouted at the insult. “I’ll take your precious
rubbish to Owlby for safekeeping. I’m headed there anyway.”

Fluppence’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what?”

“A favor to be named later.”

Fluppence should refuse. The standard fairy currency, at least in the woods, was favors and promises. They were
binding. Dreadful curses were rumored to be inflicted upon any fae who broke their word, and Poppa said that’s what had ended Great-Grandpa.

“Okay,” Fluppence said. She thrust out her hand.

“What?” Airily couldn’t believe Fluppence would agree to something as dubious as owing Burn a favor.

The crow’s laughter cackled loudly around them. She quickly shook Fluppence’s hand.

“Done,” Burn declared. She picked up the soggy book and hugged it to her chest.

“Burn, you can’t ask her to do anything dangerous,” Airily warned.

Black Burn spread her glossy black wings and winked at Airily before flying off. A wink from Black Burn wasn’t
reassuring.

“I can handle myself,” Fluppence said. She patted down her wind-mussed hair. “Burn’s not as bad as you make out. You just get in trouble because you listen to her.”

The biting observation landed and Airily winced.

“Come on. Let’s go to the Anderson’s,” Airily said,
catching the sulky note in her own voice.