CHAPTER SIX 
CHAPTER SIX 
ELEVEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING
ON THE FIRST DAY OF EMILY’S ADVENTURES.
Emily felt rather strange hurrying through the streets of London with a piskie perched on her shoulder—a piskie no one but she could see or hear.
Although, at the moment, she found herself wishing she couldn’t hear him.
“I can’t believe you did that,” said Corrigan. “What if you hadn’t caught me?”
“But I did.”
“But what if you hadn’t?”
“Then you would have a few scratches, wouldn’t you?”
Corrigan didn’t say anything. Emily glanced at her shoulder and saw that he was sitting with his arms folded. Sulking.
Let him, thought Emily. At least she’d get some peace and quiet.
Now that Merrian had shown her the fey, she found that with a little concentration, she could see them everywhere. Here was a small, dirty dwarf with an unhappy-looking flying sprite tied to a piece of string so it couldn’t get away. There was a bald woman wearing a cloak totally covered in thick, hairy spiders the size of Emily’s hand, spiders that turned their glinting eyes in her direction as she walked by. And most astounding of all, she saw a trio of what appeared to be children, but all with fox heads. They walked along the street, their tongues lolling out of grinning mouths that showed sharp, dangerous teeth. Emily paused to watch them pass. How on earth had she missed all of this before?
They walked on for about another twenty minutes, then Corrigan stiffened and straightened up on her shoulder. “Stop,” he ordered. “Don’t go any farther.”
“Why?”
Corrigan looked around. Emily did the same. They were alone on the road. “Go back and take the first right. Hurry up.”
“Why? What’s down this road?”
“Take a look for yourself,” said Corrigan.
Emily looked. At first she couldn’t see anything, but then she noticed the glint of eyes behind a hedge. A moment later, a group of piskies leapt over a wall and stood on the pavement some twenty paces ahead of them. They looked like the piskies Corrigan had been fighting that morning, except the black tattoos on their skin were different.
“Is that the Black Sidhe?” she asked fearfully.
“No. That’s a different tribe. They are Unseelie, though. Another two steps and you would have taken us into the Dagda’s territory. We’d already be dead.”
Emily took a nervous step backward.
“Keep going,” said Corrigan. “They can’t have heard about the parchment; otherwise they’d have attacked us by now.”
Emily turned and hurried back the way she’d come. She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. The piskies were gone.
“Is the whole of London separated into territories, then?”
“Not all. Some of the city is neutral, but most of it’s fair game. We fight, we win, we take their territory. We fight, they win, they take ours. Turn left here,” he said, pointing down a side road.
Emily turned into King Street, where she’d been many times before. She walked on for another few minutes before Corrigan directed her into a mews that led between two tall buildings and fed them out onto a quiet road.
“Stop here,” said Corrigan.
Emily stopped. She looked around but could see nothing of interest, just the street stretching away to either side and a row of tenements in front.
An old, one-eyed man pushed a rickety junk cart toward them. There were three small creatures in the cart, about half the size of Corrigan, sorting through the rubbish and placing it in neat piles. The man glanced at them as he passed, giving Emily a sly wink and tipping his hat to Corrigan.
“Brownies,” said Corrigan distastefully. “Scavengers.” They watched the man push his cart around the corner. “One thing you should know about our Queen,” Corrigan said. “She doesn’t take betrayal lightly.”
“What do you mean? What kind of betrayal?”
“Any kind. That man with the rubbish cart? He was a guest of the Queen. He left, but he talked about what he saw.” Corrigan shook his head. “Very silly.”
“What happened?”
“The Queen sent her huntsman after him. The Dark Man, they call him.”
“And?”
“And the Dark Man took his eye. Plucked it right from the socket. When the Dark Man has your scent, there’s no hope for you. He’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if the Queen commands it.”
Emily shuddered. This Dark Man sounded like a monster. She hoped she’d never have occasion to lay eyes on him.
“Come on, let’s go,” said Corrigan. “No point in delaying this any longer.”
Emily looked around. “Go where?”
Corrigan pointed to a three-story tenement across the road. “There.”
Emily frowned. “Doesn’t look very magical to me.”
“Is that right? Well, allow me to apologize on behalf of all of my people for not living up to your expectations. We make do with what we can. Now just go and knock, will you?”
Emily crossed the road and approached the door. It was an entirely unremarkable example of its kind, not at all the kind of thing you would associate with faeries. The wood was painted gray, but the old paint had peeled away and now littered the dirty doorstep. The only thing of interest was a small circle of thorns that had been nailed to the wood. A seed from a fruit Emily couldn’t identify had been tied into the center of the circle with twine.
“What are you waiting for? Knock.”
Emily hesitantly knocked on the door. There was a moment of silence, then a loud clumping sound. She could hear the grating noise of locks being pulled back, then the door swung open to reveal a creature only slightly shorter than Emily. His skin was the color of chestnuts. He had a small nose that constantly twitched and suspicious black eyes. He squinted up at Emily.
“Let us in, Alfrig,” said Corrigan.
The creature’s eyes widened in surprise. “Corrigan? That you?”
“Who do you think? You going to let us in or what?”
Alfrig squinted at Emily. “This one’s a human.”
“See, that’s why you’re the gnome in charge of the door, Alfrig. Observant, that’s what you are. Of course she’s a human. I’m taking her to see the Queen. Now, you goin’ to stand here yackin’ all day or what?”
Alfrig thought for a moment, then stepped aside. “You keep an eye on her, then, Corrigan. I’ll not be held responsible.”
“Yes, yes, fine. Onward, Miss Snow.”
“I’m not a horse, you know.”
“More’s the pity. A horse doesn’t answer back.”
Emily clicked her tongue in irritation and stepped into the tenement.
“Straight ahead. Out into the gardens.”
Emily walked along the short passage and undid the latch on the back door, letting it swing slowly open on creaking hinges …
… to reveal a vivid burst of color and movement.
The garden was vast and overgrown, a wild patch of ground choked with trees and bushes, flowers and weeds. Tenements bordered the garden on all four sides, protecting the plot of land from the outside world. These other buildings also housed faeries. Creatures hung from the windows and crawled across the rooftops. Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of drawings and paintings she had seen, of brownies, spriggans, elves, and kobolds, small and large, ugly and fat, pretty and lithe.
Goblins—or at least what Emily assumed were goblins—waddled around, their ugly faces sharp and pointed. Skinny creatures with golden eyes slid between tree trunks. And faeries flitted between trees, tiny flickers of color that lit the shadows between the heavy growth.
“What is this place?” she said softly.
Corrigan glanced at her with satisfaction. “I was waiting for you to show a little wonder. You’re very serious for a twelve-year-old. This is one of the doorways to Underlondon. We have them all over the city.”
“Under London?” asked Emily.
“Underlondon. It’s a place, not a description.” He seemed about to say something more, then shook his head. “You’ll see. Come on.”
He hopped off her shoulder and headed onto a path through the long grass. Emily looked back over her shoulder. Alfrig was closing the tenement door and she could just see the dreary streets of London through the opening. Two horses clattered past, pulling an omnibus behind them. The scene looked so normal. Like everything else in her life up till now.
Then the door closed, and she turned around, watching Corrigan disappear into the undergrowth. She stepped out after him.
The path led into the trees. They hadn’t looked so dense from the outside, but once beneath their overhanging branches, Emily felt as if she was walking through a huge forest.
“Where are we going?” she asked as Corrigan hopped over a moss-covered rock. She had to concentrate to keep the piskie in sight, his coloring a perfect camouflage amidst all the browns and greens.
“I already told you. Underlondon. The clue’s in the name.”
Emily thought about this for a second. “We’re going underground?”
“Correct.”
“Into the sewers?”
“Below the sewers. But yes, we have to go through them first.”
The path gradually disappeared beneath the thickening ferns as they walked deeper into the forest. Emily thought they must be near to the other side of the garden by now. In fact, they should have reached it. It was as though the forest was bigger on the inside than on the outside.
“Here we are,” declared Corrigan.
Emily saw the piskie standing at the edge of a circular clearing. The grass in the clearing was short and neat, a deep, rich green. Clumps of daisies and bluebells were scattered around, their yellows and blues so vibrant they looked like paintings.
Directly in the center of the sward of grass was a small mound. Corrigan stopped before it and turned to Emily.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “You can’t see this.”
Emily did as instructed. But as soon as she heard Corrigan muttering under his breath, she opened her eyes a crack to see what he was doing.
He was moving his fingers about in a strange, intricate dance. A moment later, a golden red line shot up from the bottom of the hill, turned to the left, then shot back down to the ground, leaving behind the shape of a door. The glow brightened so much that Emily really did have to close her eyes. When she looked again, a dark opening had been cut into the hill. Corrigan turned to Emily with a grin.
“Come on, then.”
Emily hesitated only briefly, then stepped through the opening.