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Or, better yet, I could demand that she tell no one about my sister and my connection to her.
This is stupid, I told myself, still watching the piskie crawl weakly around my rattan, trying to pull herself up the length of the stick. You know faeries will twist any bargain to their favor, even if they owe you something. This is going to end badly.
Oh, well. When had I ever been known for doing the smart thing?
With a sigh, I bent down and grabbed the piskie by the wings, lifting her up in front of me. She dangled limply, half-delirious, though from what I had no idea. Was it me, or did the faery seem almost … transparent? Not just her wings; she flickered in and out of focus like a blurry camera shot.
And then, I saw something beyond the piskie’s limp form, lurking in the darkness at the end of the locker room. Something pale and ghostlike, long hair drifting around its head like mist.
“Ethan?”
Guro’s voice echoed through the locker room, and the thing vanished. Quickly, I unzipped my bag and stuffed the piskie inside as my instructor appeared in the doorway. His eyes narrowed when he saw me.
“Everything all right?” he asked as I shouldered the bag and stepped forward. And, was it my imagination, or did he glance at the corner where the creepy ghost-thing was? “I thought I heard something. Chris isn’t hiding in a corner ready to jump out, is he?”
“No, Guro. It’s fine.”
I waited for him to move out of the doorway so I wouldn’t have to shoulder past him with my bag. My heart pounded, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was still in the room with me; I could feel it watching us, its cold eyes on my back.
Guro’s eyes flicked to the corner again, narrowing. “Ethan,” he said in a low voice, “my grandfather was a Mang-Huhula—you know what that means, yes?”
I nodded, trying not to seem impatient. The Mang-Huhula was the spiritual leader of the tribe, a faith-healer or fortune teller of sorts. Guro himself was a tuhon, someone who passed down his culture and practices, who kept the traditions alive. He’d told us this before; I wasn’t sure why he was reminding me now.
“My grandfather was a wise man,” Guro went on, holding my gaze. “He told me not to put your trust in only your eyes. That to truly see, sometimes you had to put your faith in the invisible things. You had to believe what no one else was willing to. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I heard a soft slither behind me, like wet cloth over cement, and my skin crawled. It took all my willpower not to draw my rattan and swing around. “I think so, Guro.”
Guro paused a moment, then stepped back, looking faintly disappointed. Obviously, I’d just missed something, or he could tell I was really distracted. But all he said was, “If you need help, Ethan, all you have to do is ask. If you’re in trouble, you can come to me. For anything, no matter how small or crazy it might seem. Remember that.”
The thing, whatever it was, slithered closer. I nodded, trying not to fidget. “I will, Guro.”
“Go on, then.” Guro stepped aside, nodding. “Go home. I’ll see you at the tournament.”
I fled the room, forcing myself not to look back. And I didn’t stop until I reached my truck.
My phone rang as soon as I was home.
After closing my bedroom door, I dropped my gym bag on the bed, listening to the buzz of wings from somewhere inside. It seemed the piskie was still alive, though it probably wasn’t thrilled at being zipped into a bag with used gym shorts and sweaty T-shirts. Smirking at the thought, I checked the trilling phone. Same unfamiliar number. I sighed and held it to my ear.
“God, you’re persistent,” I told the girl and heard a chuckle on the other end.
“It’s a reporter skill,” she replied. “If every newscaster got scared off by the threat of violence or kidnapping or death, there wouldn’t be any news at all. They have to brave a lot to get their stories. Consider yourself practice for the real world.”
“I’m so honored,” I deadpanned. She laughed.
“So, anyway, are you free tomorrow? Say, after school? We can meet in the library and you can give me that interview.”
“Why?” I scowled at the phone, ignoring the angry buzzing coming from my gym bag. “Just ask me your questions now and be done with it.”
“Oh, no, I never do interviews over the phone if I can help it.” The buzzing grew louder, and my bag started to shake. I gave it a thump, and it squeaked in outrage.
“Phone interviews are too impersonal,” Kenzie went on, oblivious to my ridiculous fight with the gym bag. “I want to look at the person I’m interviewing, really see their reactions, get a glimpse into their thoughts and feelings. I can’t do that over the phone. So, tomorrow in the library, okay? After the last class. Will you be there?”
A session alone with Kenzie. My heart beat faster at the thought, and I coldly stomped it down. Yes, Kenzie was cute, smart, popular and extremely attractive. You’d have to be blind not to see it. She was also obscenely rich, or her family was, anyway. The few rumors I’d heard said her father owned three mansions and a private jet, and Kenzie only went to public school because she wanted to. Even if I was anywhere near normal, Mackenzie St. James was way out of my league.
And it was better that way. I couldn’t allow myself to get comfortable with this girl, to let my guard down for an instant. The second I let people get close to me, the fey would make them targets. I would not let that happen ever again.
My bag actually jumped about two inches off the bed, landing with a thump on the mattress. I winced and dragged it back before it could leap to the floor. “Sure,” I said distractedly, not really thinking about it. “Whatever. I’ll be there.”
“Awesome!” I could sense Kenzie’s smile. “Thanks, tough guy. See you tomorrow.”
I hung up.
Outside, lightning flickered through the window, showing a storm was on its way. Grabbing my rattan stick, I braced myself and unzipped the gym bag in one quick motion, releasing a wave of stink and a furious, buzzing piskie into my room.
Not surprisingly, the faery made a beeline for the window but veered away when it noticed the line of salt poured along the sill. It darted toward the door, but an iron horseshoe hung over the frame and a coil of metal wire had been wound over the doorknob. It hummed around the ceiling like a frantic wasp, then finally drifted down to the headboard, alighting on a bedpost. Crossing its arms, it gave me an annoyed, expectant look.
I smiled nastily. “Feeling better, are we? You’re not getting out of here until I say so, so sit down and relax.” The piskie’s wings vibrated, and I kept my rattan out, ready to swat if it decided to dive-bomb me. “I saved your life back there,” I reminded the faery. “So I think you owe me something. That’s generally how these things work. You owe me a life debt, and I’m calling it in right now.”
It bristled but crossed its legs and sat down on the post, looking sulky. I relaxed my guard, but only a little. “Sucks being on that end of a bargain, doesn’t it?” I smirked, enjoying my position, and leaned back against the desk.
The piskie glared, then lifted one arm in an impatient gesture that clearly said, Well? Get on with it, then. Still keeping it in my sights, I crossed my room and locked the door, more to keep curious parents out than annoyed faeries in. Life debt or no, I could only imagine the trouble the piskie would cause if she managed to escape to the rest of the house.
“Thistle, right?” I asked, returning to the desk. The piskie’s head bobbed once in affirmation. I wondered if I should ask about Meghan but decided against it. Piskies, I’d discovered, were notoriously difficult to understand and had the attention span of a gnat. Long, drawn-out conversations with them were virtually impossible, as they tended to forget the question as soon as it was answered.
“You know Todd, then?”
The piskie buzzed and nodded.
“What did you do for him recently?”
The result was a garbled, high-pitched mess of words and sentences, spoken so quickly it made my head spin. It was like listening to a chipmunk on speed. “All right, enough!” I said, holding up my hands. “I wasn’t thinking.” Yes or no answers,Ethan, remember? The piskie gave me a confused frown, but I ignored it and continued. “So, were you following me today?”
Another nod.
“Why—”
The piskie gave a terrified squeal and buzzed frantically about the room, nearly smacking into me as it careened around the walls. I ducked, covering my head, as it zipped across the room, babbling in its shrill, squeaking voice. “Okay, okay! Calm down! Sorry I asked.” It finally hovered in a corner, shaking its head, eyes bulging out of its skull. I eyed it warily.
Huh. That was … interesting. “What was that about?” I demanded. The piskie buzzed and hugged itself, wings trembling. “Something was after you tonight, wasn’t it? That thing in the locker room—it was chasing you. Piss off an Iron faery, then?” The fey of the Iron Queen’s court were the only creatures I could think of that could provoke such a reaction. I didn’t know what it was like in the Nevernever, but here, the old-world faeries and the Iron fey still didn’t get along very well. Generally, the two groups avoided each other, pretending the other didn’t exist. But faeries were fickle and destructive and violent, and fights still broke out between them, usually ending fatally.
But the piskie shook its head, squeaking and waving its thin arms. I frowned. “It wasn’t an Iron fey,” I guessed, and it shook its head again, vigorously. “What was it?”
“Ethan?” There was a knock, and Dad’s voice came through the door. “Are you in there? Who are you talking to?”
I winced. Unlike Mom, Dad had no problem invading my personal space. If it were up to him, I wouldn’t even have a door. “On the phone, Dad!” I called back.
“Oh. Well, dinner is ready. Tell your friend you’ll call back, okay?”
I grunted and heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. The piskie still hovered in the corner, watching me with big black eyes. It was terrified, and even though it was fey and had probably played a million nasty pranks on unsuspecting humans, I suddenly felt like a bully.
I sighed. “You know what?” I told it, moving to the window. “Forget it. This was stupid of me. I’m not getting involved with any of you, life debt or no.” Sweeping away the salt, I unlocked the window and pushed it open, letting in a blast of cool, rain-scented air. “Get out of here,” I told the piskie, who blinked in astonishment. “You want to repay me? Whatever you’re doing for that half-breed, stop it. I don’t want you hanging around him, or me, ever again. Now beat it.”
I jerked my head toward the window, and the piskie didn’t hesitate. It zipped past my head, seeming to go right through the screen, and vanished into the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
Storms always made me moody. More so than usual, anyway.
Don’t know why; maybe they reminded me of my childhood, back in the swamps. We’d gotten a lot of rain on our small farm, and somehow the drumming of water on the tin roof always put me to sleep. Or maybe because, when I was very small, I would creep out of bed and into my sister’s room, and she would hold me as the thunder boomed and tell me stories until I fell asleep.
I didn’t want to remember those days. They just reminded me that she wasn’t here now, and she never would be again.
I loaded the last plate into the dishwasher and kicked it shut, wincing as a crash of thunder outside made the lights flicker. Hopefully, the power would stay on this time. Call me paranoid, but stumbling around in the dark with nothing but a candle made me positive that the fey were lurking in shadowy corners and darkened bathrooms, waiting to pounce.
I finished clearing the table, walked into the living room and flopped down on the couch. Dad had already gone to work, and Mom was upstairs, so the house was fairly still as I flipped on the television, turning up the volume to drown out the storm.
The doorbell rang.
I ignored it. It wasn’t for me, that was for certain. I didn’t have friends; no one ever came to my house to hang out with the weird, unfriendly freak. Most likely it was our neighbor, Mrs. Tully, who was friends with Mom and liked to glare at me through the slits in her venetian blinds. As if she was afraid I would throw eggs at her house or kick her yappy little dog. She liked to give Mom advice about what to do with me, claiming she knew a couple of good military schools that would straighten me right out. Most likely, she was huddled on our doorstep with an umbrella and a bag of extra candles, using the storm as an excuse to come in and gossip, probably about me. I snorted under my breath. Mom was too nice to tell her to take a hike, but I had no such convictions. She could just stay out there as far as I was concerned.
The doorbell rang again, and it sounded louder this time, more insistent.
“Ethan!” Mom called from somewhere upstairs, her voice sharp. “Will you get that, please? Don’t leave whoever it is standing there in the rain!”
Sighing, I dragged myself upright and went to the door, expecting to see a plump old woman glaring disapprovingly as I yanked it open. It wasn’t Mrs. Tully, however.
It was Todd.
At first, I didn’t recognize him. He had on a huge camouflage jacket that was two sizes too big, and the hood had fallen over his eyes. When he raised a hand and shoved it back, the porch light caught his pupils and made them glitter orange. His hair and furry ears were drenched, and he looked even smaller than normal, huddled in that enormous coat. A bike lay on its side in the grass behind him, wheels spinning in the rain.
“Oh, good, this is the right house.” Todd grinned at me, canines flashing in the dim light. A violet-skinned piskie peeked out of his hood, blinking huge black eyes, and I recoiled. “Hey, Ethan!” the half-breed said cheerfully, peering past me into the house. “Nasty weather, isn’t it? Uh, can I come in?”
I instantly shut the door in his face, leaving no more than a few inches open to glare at him through the crack. “What are you doing here?” I hissed. He flattened his ears at my tone, looking scared now.
“I need to talk to you,” he whispered, glancing back over his shoulder. “It’s important, and you’re the only one who might be able to help. Please, you gotta let me in.”
“No way.” I kept a firm foot on the edge of the door, refusing to budge an inch as he pushed forward. “If you’re in trouble with Them, that’s your problem for getting involved. I told you before—I want nothing to do with it.” I glared at the piskie who crouched beneath Todd’s hood, watching it carefully. “Get lost. Go home.”
“I can’t!” Todd leaned in frantically, eyes wide. “I can’t go home because They’re waiting for me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know! These weird, creepy, ghostly things. They’ve been hanging around my house since yesterday, watching me, and they keep getting closer.”
A chill spread through my stomach. I gazed past him into the rainy streets, searching for glimmers of movement, shadows of things not there. “What did you do?” I growled, glaring at the half-phouka, who cringed.
“I don’t know!” Todd made a desperate, helpless gesture, and his piskie friend squeaked. “I’ve never seen these type of fey before. But they keep following me, watching me. I think they’re after us,” he continued, gesturing to the fey on his shoulder. “Violet and Beetle are both terrified, and I can’t find Thistle anywhere.”
“So, you came here, to pull my family into this? Are you crazy?”
“Ethan?” Mom appeared behind me, peering over my shoulder. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one!” But it was too late; she’d already seen him.
Glancing past me, Todd gave a sheepish smile and a wave. “Um, hey, Ethan’s Mom,” he greeted, suddenly charming and polite. “I’m Todd. Ethan and I were supposed to trade notes this evening, but I sorta got caught in the rain on the way here. It’s nothing—I’m used to biking across town. In the rain. And the cold.” He sniffled and glanced mournfully at his bike, lying in the mud behind him. “Sorry for disturbing you,” he said, glancing up with the most pathetic puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. “It’s late. I guess I’ll head on home now….”
“What? In this weather? No, Todd, you’ll catch your death.” Mom shooed me out of the doorway and gestured to the half-phouka on the steps. “Come inside and dry off, at least. Do your parents know where you are?”
“Thank you.” Todd grinned as he scurried over the threshold. I clenched my fists to stop myself from shoving him back into the rain. “And yeah, it’s okay. I told my Mom I was visiting a friend’s house.”
“Well, if the rain doesn’t let up, you’re more than welcome to stay the night,” Mom said, sealing my fate. “Ethan has a spare sleeping bag you can borrow, and he can take you both to school tomorrow in his truck.” She fixed me with a steely glare that promised horrible repercussions if I wasn’t nice. “You don’t mind, do you?”
I sighed. “Whatever.” Glancing at Todd, who looked way too pleased, I turned away and gestured for him to follow. “Come on, then. I’ll get that sleeping bag set up.”
He trailed me to my room, gazing around eagerly as he stepped through the frame. That changed when I slammed the door, making him jump, and turned to glare at him.
“All right,” I growled, stalking forward, backing him up to the wall. “Start talking. What’s so damned important that you had to come here and drag my family into whatever mess you created?”
“Ethan, wait.” Todd held up clawed hands. “You were right, okay? I shouldn’t have been screwing around with the fey, but it’s too late to go back and undo … whatever I did.”
“What did you do?”
“I told you, I don’t know!” The half-breed bared his canines in frustration. “Little things, nothing I haven’t done before. Teensy contracts with Thistle and Violet and Beetle to help with some of my tricks, but that’s all. But I think something bigger took notice of us, and now I think I’m in real trouble.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“I just …” Todd stopped, frowning. “Wait a minute,” he muttered, and pushed his hood back. It flopped emptily. “Violet? Where’d she go?” he said, stripping out of the coat and shaking it. “She was here a few minutes ago.”
I smirked at him. “Your piskie friend? Yeah, sorry, she couldn’t get past the ward on the front door. No faery can get over the threshold without my permission, and I wasn’t about to set that thing free in my house. It doesn’t work on half-breeds, sadly.”
He looked up, eyes wide. “She’s still outside?”
A tap came on the window, where a new line of salt had been poured across the sill. The dripping wet piskie stared through the glass at us, her small features pinched into a scowl. I grinned at her smugly.
“I knew it,” Todd whispered, and dropped his wet jacket onto a chair. “I knew you were the right person to come to.”
I eyed him. “What are you talking about?”
“Just …” He glanced at the piskie again. She pressed her face to the glass, and he swallowed. “Dude, can I … uh…. let her in? I’m scared those things are still out there.”
“If I refuse, are you going to keep bothering me until I say yes?”
“More or less, yeah.”
Annoyed, I brushed away the salt and cracked open the window, letting the piskie through with a buzz of wings and damp air. Two faeries in my room in the same night; this was turning into a nightmare. “Don’t touch anything.” I glowered at her as she settled on Todd’s shoulder with a huff. “I have an antique iron birdcage you can sit in if anything goes missing.”
