Ghosts of the Fairground
I emerged, squinting in the darkness, trying to see where I was. For a second, it didn’t seem as if we’d left the Nevernever at all. Trees surrounded us, hissing in the wind, but I looked closer and saw they were regular, normal trees. A few yards away, three strands of barbed wire glinted in the moonlight, and beyond the wires, a scattering of fluffy white creatures peered at us curiously.
“Are those sheep?” Kenzie asked, sounding weary but delighted. Razor gave an excited buzz from Keirran’s shoulder, leaped to the top of the first wire, and darted into the pasture. Sheep baaed in terror and fled, looking like clouds blowing across the field, and Keirran sighed.
“I keep telling him not to do that. They lose enough to the goblins as is.”
“Where are we?” I asked, relieved to be back in the real world again, but not liking that I didn’t know where we were. The wind here was cool, and the wooded hills beyond the pasture seemed to go on forever. Keirran watched Razor, buzzing happily from the back of a terrified sheep, and shook his head.
“Somewhere in rural Maryland.”
“Maryland,” I echoed in disbelief.
He grinned. “What, you think all trods lead to Louisiana?”
I took a breath to answer, but paused. Wait. How does he know where I live?
“Where to now?” Kenzie asked, grimacing as she leaned against a fencepost. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk very fast with this knee. Someone might need to give me a piggyback ride later on.”
“Don’t worry.” Keirran gestured over the rolling hills. “There’s an abandoned fairground a couple miles from here. It’s a hangout for the local fey, most of them exiled. The trod there will take us to where we need to go.”
“And where is that?” I asked, but Keirran had moved up to the fence, peering over the wire at Razor, still tormenting the flock of sheep. “Razor!” he called over the bleating animals. “Come on, stop scaring the poor things. You’re going to give them a heart attack.”
The gremlin ignored him. I could just barely see him in the darkness, his electric-green eyes and glowing smile bouncing among the flock. I was about to suggest we just leave and let him catch up, when Kenzie stepped up to the fence, her expression puzzled.
“Where is he?” she asked, staring out over the field. “The sheep are going nuts, but I don’t see Razor at all.”
Oh, yeah. We were back in the real world now. Which meant Kenzie couldn’t see the fey; they were invisible to humans unless they made a conscious effort to un-glamour themselves. I told her as much.
“Huh,” she said in a neutral voice, then looked out over the pasture again, at the sheep racing through the grass like frantic clouds. A defiant expression crossed her face, and she took a breath.
“Razor!” she barked, making Keirran jump. “No! Bad gremlin! You stop that, right now!”
The gremlin, shockingly, looked up from where he was bouncing on a rock, sheep scattering around him. He blinked and cocked his head, looking confused. Kenzie pointed to the ground in front of her.
“I want to see you. Come here, Razor. Now!”
And, he did. Blipping into sight at her feet, he gazed up expectantly, looking like a mutant Chihuahua awaiting commands. Keirran blinked in astonishment as she snapped her fingers and pointed at him, and Razor scurried up his arm to perch on his shoulder. She smiled, giving us both a smug look, and crossed her arms.
“Dog training classes,” she explained.
* * *
The road stretched before us in the moonlight, a narrow strip of pavement that wove gently over and between the hills. Keirran led us on silently, Razor humming a raspy tune on his shoulder. No cars passed us; except for an owl and the flocks of sheep, snoozing in their pastures, we were alone.
“Wish I had my camera.” Kenzie sighed as a black-faced ewe watched us from the side of the road, blinking sleepily. It snorted and trotted off, and Kenzie gazed after it, smiling. “Then again, maybe not. It might be weird, explaining how I could take pictures of the Maryland countryside when I never left Louisiana.” She shivered, rubbing her arms as a cold breeze blew across the pasture, smelling of sheep and wet grass. I wished I had my jacket so I could offer it to her.
“What do you do?” Kenzie went on, her gaze still roaming the woods beyond the hills. “When you get home, I mean? We’ve been to Faeryland—we’ve seen things no one else has. What happens when you finally get home, knowing what you do, that no one else will ever understand?”
“You go back to what you were doing before,” I replied. “You try to get on with your life and pretend it didn’t happen. It’ll be easier for you,” I continued as she turned to me, frowning. “You have friends. Your life is fairly normal. You’re not a freak who can see Them everywhere you go. Just try to forget about it. Forget the fey, forget the Nevernever, forget everything weird or strange or unnatural. Eventually, the nightmares will stop, and you might even convince yourself that everything you saw was a bad dream. That’s the easiest way.”
“Hey, tough guy, your bitterness is showing.” Kenzie gave me an exasperated look. “I don’t want to forget. Just burying my head in the sand isn’t going to change anything. They’ll still be out there, whether I believe in them or not. I can’t pretend it never happened.”
“But you won’t ever see them,” I said. “And that will either make you paranoid or drive you completely crazy.”
“I’ll still be able to talk to you, though, right?”
I sighed, not wanting to say it, but knowing I had to. “No. You won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because my life is too screwed up to drag you into it.”
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s best for my life,” Kenzie said softly, not quite able to mask her anger, the first I’d ever heard from her, “and who I want to be friends with?”
“What do you think is going to happen once we go home?” I asked, not meeting her stare. “You think I can be normal and hang out with you and your friends, just like that? You think your parents and your teachers will want you hanging around someone like me?”
“No,” Kenzie said in that same low, quiet voice. “They won’t. And you know what? I don’t care. Because they haven’t seen you like I have. They haven’t seen the Nevernever, or the fey, or the Iron Queen, and they won’t ever understand. I didn’t understand.” She paused, seeming to struggle with her next words. “The first time I saw you,” she said, pushing her bangs from her eyes, “when we first talked, I thought you were this brooding, unfriendly, hostile, um…” She paused.
“Jerk,” I finished for her.
“Well, yeah,” Kenzie admitted slowly. “A pretty handsome jerk, I might add, but a huge, colossal megajerk nonetheless.” She gave me a quick glance to see how I was taking this. I shrugged.
Not going to argue with that.
And then, a second later:
She thought I was handsome?
“At first, I just wanted to know what you were thinking.” Kenzie pushed back her hair, the blue-and-black strands fluttering around her face. “It was more of a challenge, I guess, to get you to see me, to talk to me. You’re the only one, in a very long time anyway, who talked to me like a real person, who treated me the same as everyone else. My friends, my family, even my teachers, they all tiptoe around me like I’m made of glass. They never say what they’re really thinking if they feel it might upset me.” She sighed, looking out over the fields. “No one is ever real with me anymore, and I’m sick and tired of it.”
I held my breath, suddenly aware that I was very close to that dark thing Kenzie was hiding from me. Tread softly, Ethan. Don’t sound too eager or she might change her mind. “Why is that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, like I didn’t care. Wrong move.
“Um, because of my dad,” Kenzie said quickly, and I swore under my breath, knowing I had screwed up. “He’s this big-shot lawyer and everyone is terrified of him, so they pussyfoot around me, too. Whatever.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about my dad. We were talking about you.”
“The huge, colossal megajerk,” I reminded her.
“Exactly. I don’t know if you realize this, Ethan, but you’re a good-looking guy. People are going to notice you, bad-boy reputation or not.” I gave her a dubious look, and she nodded. “I’m serious. You didn’t see the way Regan and the others were staring the first time you came into the classroom. Chelsea even dared me to go up and ask if you had a girlfriend.” One corner of her mouth curled in a wry grin. “I’m sure you remember how that turned out.”
I grimaced and looked away. Yeah, I was a total jackass, wasn’t I? Believe me, if I could take back everything I said, I would. But it wouldn’t stop the fey.
“But then, we came to the Nevernever,” Kenzie went on, gazing a few yards up the road, where Keirran’s bright form glided down the pavement. “And things started making a lot more sense. It must be hard, seeing all these things, knowing they’re out there, and not being able to talk about it to anyone. It must be lonely.”
Very lightly, she took my hand, sending electric tingles up my arm, and my breath caught. “But you have me now,” she said in a near whisper. “You can talk to me…about Them. And I won’t tease or make fun or call you crazy, and you don’t have to worry about it frightening me. I want to know everything I can. I want to know about faeries and Mag Tuiredh and the Nevernever, and you’re my only connection to them now.” Her voice grew defiant. “So, if you think you can shut me out of your life, tough guy, and keep me in the dark, then you don’t know me at all. I can be just as stubborn as you.”
“Don’t.” I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t face the quiet sincerity in her voice. Fear stirred, the knowledge that she was only putting herself in danger the longer she stayed with me. “There is no connection, Kenzie,” I said, pulling my hand from hers. “And I won’t be telling you anything about the fey. Not now, not ever. Just forget that you ever saw them, and leave me alone.”
Her stunned, hurt silence ate into me, and I sighed, stabbing my fingers through my hair. “You think I want to keep pushing people away?” I asked softly. “I don’t enjoy being the freak, the one everyone avoids. I really, truly do not take pleasure in being a complete asshole.” My voice dropped even lower. “Especially to people like you.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because people who get close to me get hurt!” I snapped, finally whirling to face her. She blinked, and the memory of another girl swam through my head, red ponytail bobbing behind her, a spray of freckles across her nose. “Every time,” I continued in a softer voice. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop Them from following me. If it was just me that the fey picked on, I’d be okay with that. But someone else always pays for my Sight. Someone else always gets hurt instead of me.” Tearing my gaze from hers, I looked out over the fields. “I’d rather be alone,” I muttered, “than to have to watch that again.”
“Again?”
“Hey,” Keirran called from somewhere up ahead. “We’re here.”
Grateful for the interruption, I hurried to where the faery waited for us beneath the branches of a large pine by the side of the road. Striding through weeds, I followed Keirran’s gaze to where the top of a Ferris wheel, yellow and spotted with rust, poked above the distant trees. Lights flickered through the branches.
“Come on,” Keirran encouraged, sounding eager, and jogged forward. We followed, trailing him under branches, through knee-high grass and across an empty, weed-choked parking lot. Past a wooden fence covered in vines and ivy, the trees fell away, and we were staring at the remains of an abandoned fairground.
Though the park seemed empty, lanterns and torchlight flickered erratically, lighting the way between empty booths, some still draped with the limp, moldy forms of stuffed animals. A popcorn cart lay overturned in the weeds a few yards away, the glass smashed, the innards picked clean by scavengers. We passed the bumper cars, sitting empty and silent on their tracks, and walked beneath a swing ride, the chains creaking softly in the wind. The carousel sat in the distance, peeling and rusted, dozens of once-colorful horses now flaking away with age and time.
Keirran skidded to a halt in front of a darkened funnel cake booth, his face grave. “Something is wrong,” he muttered, turning slowly. “This place should be crawling with exiles. There’s supposed to be a goblin market here year-round. Where is everyone?”
“Looks like your friend might not be here,” I said, switching my sticks to both hands, just in case there was trouble. He didn’t seem to hear me and abruptly broke into a sprint that took him between the midway aisles. Kenzie and I hurried after him.
“Annwyl!” he called, jogging up to a booth that at one point had featured a basketball game, as several nets dangled from the back wall. The booth was dark and empty, though flowers were scattered everywhere inside, dried stems and petals fluttering across the counter.
“Annwyl,” Keirran said again, leaping easily over the wall, into the booth. “Are you here? Where are you?”
No one answered him. Breathing hard, the faery gazed around the empty stall for a moment, then turned and slammed his fist into the counter, making the whole structure shake. Razor squeaked, and Kenzie and I stared at him.
“Gone,” he whispered, bowing his head, as the gremlin buzzed worriedly and patted his neck. “Where is she? Where is everyone? Are they all with her?”
“What’s going on?” I leaned against the counter, brushing away drifts of petals and leaves. They had a rotten, sickly sweet smell, and I tried not to breathe in. “Who’s with her? Who is Annwyl? Why—?”
I trailed off, my blood turning cold. Was it my imagination, or had I just seen a white shimmer float between the booths farther down the aisle? Carefully, I straightened, gripping my weapons, my skin starting to prickle with goose bumps. “Keirran, we have to get out of here now.”
He looked up warily, reaching back for his weapon. And then, something slipped from the booths onto the dusty path, and we both froze.
At first, it looked like a giant cat. It had a sleek, muscular body, short fur and a long, thin tail that lashed its hindquarters. But when it turned its head, its face wasn’t a cat’s but an old, wrinkled woman’s, her hair hanging limply around her neck, her eyes beady and cruel. She turned toward us, and I ducked behind the stall, pulling Kenzie down with me, as Keirran vanished behind the counter. I saw that the cat-thing’s front paws were actually bony hands with long, crooked nails, but worst of all, her body flickered and shimmered in the air like heat waves. Like the creepy fey that had chased me and Kenzie into the Nevernever. Except this one seemed a bit more solid than the others. Not nearly so transparent.
I suddenly had a sinking suspicion of what had happened to the exiles.
Keirran squeezed through a crack in the cloth walls and crouched down beside us. “What is that?” he whispered, gripping his sword. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“I have.” I peeked around the corner. The cat-thing was turning in slow circles, as if she knew something was there but couldn’t see it. “Something similar took my friend and chased us—” I gestured to Kenzie and myself “—into the Nevernever. I think they’re the ones that have been kidnapping exiles and half-breeds.”
Keirran’s gaze darkened, and he suddenly looked extremely dangerous, eyes glowing with an icy light as he stood slowly. “Then perhaps we should make sure it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Ethan.” Kenzie squeezed my arm, looking frightened but trying not to let it show. “I don’t see it,” she whispered. “I don’t see anything.”
“But the little boys can,” hissed a voice behind us, and another cat-thing padded out of the darkness between the stalls.
I jumped to my feet, pulling Kenzie up with me. The cat-fey’s wizened face creased in a smile, showing sharp feline teeth. “Little humans,” she purred, as the other faery came around the corner, boxing us in. I shivered as the air around us grew cold. “You can see us and hear us. How encouraging.”
“Who are you?” Keirran demanded, and raised his sword, pointing it at the nearest cat-thing. On his shoulder, Razor growled and buzzed at the faeries, baring his teeth. “What did you do to the exiles here?”
The cat-fey hissed and drew back at the sight of the iron weapon. “Not human,” rasped the other behind us. “The bright one is not completely human. I can feel his glamour. He is strong.” She growled, taking a step forward. “We should bring him to the lady.”
I raised my sticks and eased back, closer to Keirran, trapping Kenzie between us. She glanced around wildly, trying to see the invisible threats, but it was obvious that she didn’t even hear them.
The second cat-thing blinked slowly, running a tongue along her thin mouth. “Yes,” she agreed, flexing her nails. “We will bring the half-breed to the lady, but it would be a shame to waste all that lovely glamour. Perhaps we will just take a little.”
Her mouth opened, stretching impossibly wide, a gaping hole in her wrinkled face. I felt a ripple around us, a pulling sensation, as if the cat-fey was sucking the air into itself. I braced myself for something nasty, pressing close to Kenzie, but except for a faint sluggish feeling, nothing happened.
But Keirran staggered and fell to one knee, putting a hand against the booth to catch himself. As I stared, he seemed to fade a bit, his brightness getting dimmer, the color leeched from his hair and clothes. Razor screeched and flickered from sight, going in and out like a bad television station. The other faery cackled, and I glared at it, torn between helping Keirran and protecting the girl.
Suddenly, the cat-thing choked, convulsed and hurled itself back from Keirran. “Poison!” she screeched, gagging and heaving, as if she wanted to cough up a hairball. “Poison! Murder!” She spasmed again, curling in on herself as her body began to break apart, to dissolve like sugar in water. “Iron!” she wailed, clawing at the ground, at herself, her beady eyes wild. “He’s an Iron abomination! Kill him, sister! Kill them all!”
She vanished then, blowing away in the breeze, as the other cat-thing screamed its fury and pounced.
I brought my rattan down, smashing it over the faery’s skull, then sliding away to land a few solid blows on its shoulder. It screeched in pain and whirled on me, favoring its right leg. “So, you’re real enough to hit, after all.” I grinned. Snarling, it lunged, clawing at me, and I sidestepped again, angling out like Guro had taught me, whipping my rattan several times across the wizened face.
Shaking its head, the faery backed up, hissing furiously, one eye squeezed shut. Pale, silvery blood dripped from its mouth and jaw, writhing away as soon as it touched the ground. I twirled my sticks and stepped closer, forcing it back. Kenzie had retreated a few steps and was crouched next to Keirran; I could hear her asking if he was all right, and his quiet assurance that he was fine.
“Boy,” the cat-faery hissed, her lips pulled back in a snarl of hate, “you will pay for this. You all will. When we return, there will be nothing that will save you from our wrath.”
Turning, the cat-thing bounded into the darkness between the stalls and vanished from sight.
I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Keirran, who was struggling upright, one hand still on the booth wall. Razor made angry, garbled noises on his shoulder, punctuated with the words “Bad kitty!”
“You okay?” I asked, and he nodded wearily. “What just happened there?”
“I don’t know.” He gave Kenzie a grateful smile and took a step forward, standing on his own. “When that thing turned on me, it felt like everything—my strength, my emotions, even my memory—was being sucked out. It was…awful.” He shuddered, rubbing a forearm. “I feel like there are pieces of me missing now, and I’ll never get them back.”
I remembered the dead piskie, the way she’d looked right before she died, like all her color had been drained away. “It was draining your magic,” I said, and Keirran nodded. “So, these things, whatever they are, they eat the glamour of regular fey, suck them dry until there’s nothing left.”
“Like vampires,” Kenzie put in. “Vampire fey that hunt their own kind.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s creepy. Why would they do that?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“It got more than it bargained for, though,” Keirran went on, gazing at the spot where the cat-faery had died. “Whatever they are, it looks like they’re still deathly allergic to iron.”
“So they’re not Iron fey, at least.”
“No.” Keirran shivered and dropped his hands. “Though I have no idea what they are.”
“Keirran!”
The shout echoed down the rows, making Keirran jerk his head up, hope flaring in his eyes. A moment later, a willowy girl in a green-and-brown dress turned a corner and sprinted toward us. Keirran smiled, and Razor gave a welcoming buzz, waving his arms.
I tensed. The girl was fey, I could see that easily. The tips of her ears peeked up through her golden-brown hair, which was braided with vines and flowers and hung several inches past her waist. She had that unnatural grace of all fey, that perfect beauty where it was tempting to stare at her and completely forget to eat, sleep, breathe or anything else.
Keirran stepped forward, forgetting Kenzie and me completely, his eyes only for the faery approaching us. The fey girl halted just shy of touching him, as if she’d intended to fling herself into his arms but thought better of it at the last moment.
“Annwyl.” Keirran hesitated, as if he, too, wanted to pull her close, only to decide against it. His gaze never left the Summer faery, though, and she didn’t seem to notice the two humans standing behind him.
There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by Razor, chattering on Keirran’s shoulder, before the faery girl shook her head.
“You shouldn’t be here, Keirran,” she said, her voice lilting and soft, like water over a rock bed. “It’s going to get you in trouble. Why did you come?”
“I heard what was happening in the mortal realm,” Keirran replied, stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I heard the rumor that something is out here, killing off exiles and half-breeds.” His other hand rose as if to brush her cheek. “I had to come see you, to make sure you were all right.”
Annwyl hesitated. Longing showed on her face, but she stepped back before Keirran could touch her. His eyes closed, briefly, and he let his arm drop. “You shouldn’t be here,” the girl insisted. “It isn’t safe, especially now. There are…creatures.”
“We saw,” Keirran replied, and Annwyl gave him a frightened look. His gaze hardened, ice-blue eyes glinting dangerously. “Those things,” he went on. “Is she aware of them? Is that why the market has been disbanded?”
The fey girl nodded. “She knows you’re here,” she replied in her soft, rippling voice. “She’s waiting for you. I’m supposed to bring you to her. But…”
Her gaze finally slid to mine, and the large, moss-green eyes widened. “You brought mortals here?” she asked, sounding confused. “Who…?”
“Ah. Yes, where are my manners?” Keirran glanced back, as well, as if just remembering us. “I’m sorry. Ethan, this is Annwyl, formerly of the Summer Court. Annwyl, may I introduce…Ethan Chase.”
The faery gasped. “Chase? The queen’s brother?”
“Yes,” Keirran said, and nodded to Kenzie. “Also, Kenzie St. James. They’re both friends of mine.”
I glanced at Keirran, surprised by the casual way he threw out the word friends. We’d only just met and were virtually strangers, but Keirran acted as if he’d known us far longer. But that was crazy; I’d never seen him before tonight.
Solemnly, the Summer faery pulled back and dropped into a deep curtsy, directed at me, I realized. “Don’t,” I muttered, waving it off. “I’m not a prince. You don’t have to do that with me.”
Annwyl blinked large, moss-green eyes. “But…you are,” she said in her rippling voice. “You’re the queen’s brother. Even if you’re not one of us, we—”
“I said it’s fine.” Briefly, I wondered what would happen if all faeries knew who I was. Would they treat me with respect and leave me alone? Or would my life get even more chaotic and dangerous, as they saw me as a weak link that could be exploited? I had a feeling it would be the latter. “I’m not anyone special,” I told the Summer girl, who still looked unconvinced. “Don’t treat me any different than you would Keirran.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive Keirran hid a small grin behind Annwyl’s hair. The Summer girl blinked again, and seemed about to say something, when Kenzie spoke up.
“Um, Ethan? Sorry to be a normal human and all, but…who are we talking to?”
Keirran chuckled. “Oh, right.” To Annwyl, he said, “I’m afraid Mackenzie can’t see you right now. She’s only human.”
“What?” Annwyl glanced at Kenzie, and her eyes widened. “Oh, of course. Please excuse me.” A shiver went through the air around her, and Kenzie jumped as the faery girl materialized in front of us. “Is this better?”
Kenzie sighed. “I’ll never get used to that.”
The Summer faery smiled, but then her eyes darkened and she drew back. “Come,” she urged, glancing around the fairgrounds. “We can’t stay out here. It’s gotten dangerous.” Her gaze swept the aisles like a wary deer’s. “I’m supposed to bring you to the mistress. This way.”
We followed Annwyl across the dead amusement park, through the silent fairway, past the Ferris wheel, creaking softly in the wind, until we came to the House of Mirrors in the shadow of a wooden roller coaster. Walking past weird, distorted reflections of ourselves—fat, short, tall with gorillalike arms—we finally came to a narrow mirror in a shadowy corner, and Annwyl looked back at Keirran.
“It’s a bit…crowded,” she warned, her gaze flicking to me and Kenzie. “No one wants to be on this side of the Veil, not with those things out there.” She shuddered, and I saw Keirran wince, too. “Fair warning,” she continued, watching Keirran with undeniable affection. “The mistress is a little…cranky these days. She might not appreciate you showing up now, especially with two humans.”
“I’ll risk it,” Keirran said softly, holding her gaze. Annwyl smiled at him, then put her hand to the mirror in front of us. It shimmered, growing even more distorted, and the fey girl stepped through the glass, vanishing from sight.
Keirran looked at us and smiled. “After you.”
Taking Kenzie’s hand, I stepped through the shifting glass, and the real world faded behind us once more.
* * *
We stepped through the doorway into a dark, underground room, a basement maybe, or even a dungeon. The Summer girl beckoned us forward, down the shadowy halls. Torches flickered in brackets as we followed Annwyl down the damp corridors, and gargoyles watched us from stone columns, sneering as we went by.
Fey also walked these halls: boggarts and bogies and a couple of goblins, fey that preferred the dank and damp and shadows, avoiding the light. They eyed us with hungry curiosity, and Kenzie eyed them back, able to See again now that we were back in Faery. They kept their distance, though, and we walked up a flight of long wooden steps, where a pair of crimson doors perched at the top. Annwyl pushed them open.
Noise and light flooded the stairway. The doors opened into an enormous, red-walled foyer, and the foyer was filled with fey.
Faeries stood or sat on the carpeted floors, talking in low murmurs. Goblins muttered amongst themselves, clumped in small groups, glancing around warily. Brownies, satyrs and piskies hovered through the room, looking lost. A couple redcaps stood in a corner, baring their fangs at whoever got too close. One of them noticed me and nudged his companion, jerking his chin in our direction. The other grinned, running a pale tongue over his teeth, and I glared stonily back, daring it to try something. The redcap sneered, made a rude gesture, and went back to threatening the crowd.
More fey clustered along the walls, some of them standing guard over tables and boxes of weird stuff. In one corner, a faery in a white cloak straightened a stand of feather masks, while near the fireplace, a crooked hag plucked a skewer of mice from the flames and set it, still smoking, next to a plate of frogs and what looked like a cooked cat. The stench of burning fur drifted to me across the room, and Kenzie made a tiny gagging noise.
But even with all the weird, unearthly and dangerous faeries in the room, there was only one that really mattered.
In the center of all the chaos, a cigarette wand in one hand and a peeved look on her face, was the most striking faery I’d ever seen. Copper-gold hair floated around her like a mane, and a gown hugged her slender body, the long slit up the side showing impossibly graceful legs. She was tall, regal and obviously annoyed, for she kept pursing her lips and blowing blue smoke into snarling wolves that ripped each other to pieces as they thrashed through the air. A black-bearded dwarf stood beneath her glare, a wooden box sitting beside him. The box had been draped with a dark cloth, and growling, hissing noises came from within as it shook back and forth.
“I don’t care if the beast was already paid for, darling.” The faery’s high, clear voice rang out over the crowd. “You’re not keeping that thing here.” Her tone was hypnotic, exasperated as it was. “I will not have my human pets turned into stone because the Duchess of Thorns has an unnatural craving for cockatrice eggs.”
“Please.” The dwarf, held up his thick hands, pleading. “Leanansidhe, please, be reasonable.”
I sucked in a breath, and my blood turned to ice.
Leanansidhe? Leanansidhe, the freaking Exile Queen? I leveled a piercing glare at Keirran, who offered a weak grin. Everyone in Faery knew who Leanansidhe was, myself included. Meghan had mentioned her name a few times, but beyond that, you couldn’t meet an exiled fey who hadn’t heard of the dangerous Dark Muse and wasn’t terrified of her.
“Get it out of my house, Feddic.” The Exile Queen pointed to the door we’d come through. “I don’t care what you do with it, but I want it gone. Or would you like to be barred from my home permanently? Take your chances with the life-sucking monsters out in the real world?”
“No!” The dwarf shrank back, eyes wide. “I’ll…I’ll get rid of it, Leanansidhe,” he stammered. “Right now.”
“Be sure that you do, pet.” Leanansidhe pursed her lips, sucking on her cigarette flute. She sighed, and the smoke image of a rooster went scurrying away over our heads. “If I find one more creature in this house turned to stone…” She trailed off, but the terrifying look in her eyes spoke louder than words.
The dwarf grabbed the hissing, cloth-covered box and hurried away, muttering under his breath. We stepped aside as he passed and continued down the stairs without glancing at us, then disappeared into the shadows.
Leanansidhe pinched the bridge of her nose, then straightened and looked right at us. “Well, well,” she purred, smiling in a way I did not like at all, “Keirran, darling. Here you are again. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She gave me a cursory glance before turning back to Keirran. “And you brought a pair of humans with you, I see. More strays, darling?” She shook her head. “Your concern for hopeless waifs is very touching, but if you think you’re going to dump them here, dove, I’m afraid I just don’t have the room.”
Keirran bowed. “Leanansidhe.” He nodded, looking around at the crowd of fey. “Looks like you have a full house.”
“Noticed that, did you, pet?” The Exile Queen sighed and puffed out a cougar. “Yes, I have been reduced to running the Goblin Market from my own living room, which makes it very difficult to concentrate on other things. Not to mention it’s driving my human pets even more crazy than usual. They can barely strum a note or hold a tune with all the chaos around.” She touched two elegant fingers to her temple, as if she had a headache. Keirran looked unimpressed.
The Exile Queen sniffed. “Sadly, I’m very busy at the moment, darling, so if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you be a good boy and take a message home? Tell the Iron Queen that something is going on in the real world, and she might want to know about it. If you’re here just to make googly-eyes at Annwyl, my darling prince, I’m afraid I don’t have time for you.”
Prince? Wait. “Wait.” I turned, very slowly, to stare at Keirran, ignoring the Exile Queen for the moment. Keirran grimaced and didn’t look at me. “Care to say that again?” I asked, disbelief making my stomach knot. My mouth was suddenly dry. “You’re a prince—of the Iron Realm? Then, you…you’re Meghan’s…” I couldn’t even finish the thought.
From the corner of my eye, Leanansidhe straightened. “Ethan Chase.” Her voice was low and dangerous, as if she’d just figured out who was standing in her living room. I couldn’t look at her now, though. My attention was riveted to Keirran.
He shot me a pained, embarrassed wince. “Yeah. I was going to tell you…sooner or later. There just wasn’t a good time.” He paused, his voice going very soft. “I’m sorry…Uncle.”
Razor let out a high-pitched, buzzing laugh. “Uncle!” he howled, oblivious to the looks of horror and disgust he was getting from every faery in the room. “Uncle, uncle! Uncle Ethan!”