The Modern Faerie Tales Read online

  Corny shuddered at the thought. His mind went to Janet, held underneath the waves by a delighted kelpie. “We could trade them something, maybe,” he said. “They might take us there for a price.”

  Kaye looked over at him warily. He figured she was remembering how they’d traded an old carousel horse to that same kelpie for information. Before they knew how dangerous the kelpie was. Before it murdered Janet.

  She nodded slowly. “What do mermaids like?”

  Luis shrugged. “Jewelry . . . music . . . sailors?”

  “They eat people, right?” Corny asked.

  “Sure. When they’re done with them.”

  Corny smiled. “Let’s bring them a couple of big steaks.”

  They bought an inflatable green raft and two oars at the boat store. The clerk looked at Kaye strangely when she counted out hundreds of curled and tattered dollars, but her smile charmed him into silence.

  They got back into the car.

  Luis rode shotgun and Kaye rested in the back with her head on the raft’s cardboard box. As Corny changed lanes on the highway, he looked over at Luis, but Luis looked out the window, his eyes not focused on anything. Whatever he saw, it wasn’t something Corny could share. Silence filled up the car.

  “Who was it?” Corny asked finally. “On the phone?”

  Luis looked toward him too quickly. “It was the hospital. They were upset about me not having a credit card or a landline phone and him being under eighteen. And even though they didn’t know if I’d be allowed to claim him, they started talking about my options. Basically, I have to come up with the money for cremation.”

  “Kaye could—”

  Luis shook his head.

  “We could sell the boat when we’re done with it.”

  Luis smiled, a small lift of his lip. “I want him to have a good burial, you know.”

  At Janet’s funeral there had been a coffin and a service, flowers and a stone. Corny had never asked about the cost, but his mom wasn’t rich. He wondered how much she’d gone into debt for his sister to be buried in style.

  “My parents—they’re out where we’re going.” Luis’s finger turned his lip ring.

  “Hart Island?”

  He nodded. “That’s where potter’s field is. Where they bury the ‘friendless’ dead. Which basically means the dead with no living relatives, who are renters and in credit card debt. My parents. I was underage, so I couldn’t claim them. If I’d even tried, they’d probably have hauled Dave and me off to child services.”

  The possible replies scrolled in front of Corny’s eyes. Wow. Are you okay? I’m so sorry. All of them inadequate.

  “I’ve never been there,” Luis said. “It’ll be good to go.”

  They drove over the drawbridge, to the very edge of City Island, and parked the car behind a restaurant. Then, sitting in the snow, they took turns blowing up the raft, like they were passing around a joint.

  “How are we going to attract those mermaids?” Corny asked, while Luis huffed into the little tube.

  Kaye picked up a receipt from the floor of his car. “You got something pointy?”

  Corny searched through his backpack until he came up with a discarded safety pin.

  She poked her finger and, wincing, smeared her blood onto the paper. Walking to the edge of the water, she dropped it in. “I’m Kaye Fierch,” she said firmly. “A pixie. A Seelie Court changeling on a quest for the King of the Night Court. I come here and ask for your help. I ask for your help. Three times I ask for your help.”

  Corny looked at her, standing in front of the water, her green hair pulled back from her glamoured face, her battered purple coat blown by the wind. For the first time, he thought that even in her human guise she had somehow grown formidable.

  Heads bobbed in the black water, pale hair floating around them like sea grass.

  Kaye went down on her knees. “I ask that you bring us three to Hart Island safely. We have a boat. All you have to do is pull it.”

  “And what will you give us, pixie?” they answered in their melodious voices. Their teeth were translucent and sharp, like they were made of cartilage.

  Kaye walked back to the car and brought out the ShopRite plastic bag full of meat. She held up a raw and dripping shank. “Flesh,” she said.

  “We accept,” said the mermaids.

  Kaye, Corny, and Luis dragged the boat onto the water and pushed off. The mermaids swam around them, pushing the boat and singing softly as they went, their voices so beautiful and insistent that Corny found himself dazed. Kaye appeared tense, sitting at the prow like a ship’s figurehead.

  Looking over the side, Corny saw a mermaid coming up through the water, and for a moment it seemed like she wore his sister’s face, blue with cold and death. He looked away.

  “I know who you are,” one of them said to Luis, her white, webbed hand reaching up onto the side of the boat. “You brought the troll’s potion.”

  He nodded, swallowing.

  “I could teach you how to heal better,” the mermaid whispered. “If you came with me. Under the water.”

  Corny put his hand on Luis’s arm, and Luis jumped as if he’d been stung.

  The mermaid turned her head toward Corny. “What about vengeance? I could give you that. You lost someone to the sea.”

  Corny choked. “What?”

  “You want it,” she said. “I know that you do.”

  The mermaid reached up, her webbed hand settling on the side of the raft, near Corny. Scales skived off, shining on the rubber. “I could give you the power,” she told him.

  Corny looked down at her gelatinous eyes and her thin, sharp teeth. Envy curled in his gut. She was beautiful and terrible and magical. But the feeling was distant, like being envious of a sunset. “I don’t need any more power,” he said, and was surprised to find he meant it. And if he wanted vengeance, he’d get it on his own.

  Kaye made a soft noise. Corny looked up.

  There on the far shore, behind heaps of mussel shells, a great crowd of beings had gathered. And beyond them, abandoned buildings stood near rows and rows of graves.

  13

  “Thou art the unanswered question;

  Couldst see thy proper eye,

  Alway it asketh, asketh;

  And each answer is a lie. . . .”

  —RALPH WALDO EMERSON, “THE SPHINX”

  Kaye pushed through the crowd with Corny and Luis, shoving lavender-skinned bodies and batting aside clouds of pin-size sprites. A phooka with a goat head and dead white eyes called to her as she passed, licking its teeth with a cat’s tongue. “Licksy tricksy pixie!”

  Ducking beneath the arm of an ogre, Kaye leaped onto a grave marker to avoid three spindly hobmen locked in an embrace in the dirt.

  From the top of the marker, she surveyed the court. She saw Ruddles drinking from a bowl and passing it to a number of other animal-headed beings. Ellebere stood beside him—hair fading from wine to gold as it fell over his shoulders, his armor a deep and mossy green.

  Roiben himself was talking animatedly to a woman as slim as a wand, her long black hair knotted into a jeweled cape that draped over her back to match the twitching tail also hung with jewels. From where she stood, Kaye couldn’t tell whether or not they were arguing. The woman was gesturing broadly with her hands.

  Then, abruptly, Roiben turned and looked in Kaye’s direction. Kaye was so surprised that she fell. She forgot to flap her wings. Her head hit a stone, and tears sprung to her eyes. For a moment she just lay there, resting her head against the ground and listening to the Folk milling around her. It was awful to be so near him, awful how her heart leapt.

  “You shouldn’t eat the bones if you chew them like that.” She heard someone say nearby. “They’re too sharp. Cut up your insides.”

  “Haven’t you become a little beetleflower?” said another voice. “Marrow’s better than meat, but you’ve got to go through the bones to get it.”

  Corny reached out a hand to pull
Kaye to her feet. “I don’t think he saw you.”

  “Perhaps not, but I did.” A woman, her wings so tattered that only the veins hung from her back, looked down at Kaye. She held a knife that curved like a snake, and her armor gleamed the same shining purple as the carapace of a beetle.

  “Dulcamara,” Kaye said, standing. “My friends need to talk to Roiben.”

  “Perhaps after the duel,” she said. Her pink eyes regarded Kaye with contempt.

  “They have to talk to him now,” said Kaye. “Please. He can’t duel. He has to call it off.”

  Dulcamara licked the edge of her blade, painting it with her mouth’s blood. “I will play messenger. Give me your words and I will carry them to him with my own tongue.”

  “They have to tell him themselves.”

  Dulcamara shook her head. “I will allow no more distractions from you than he has already borne.”

  Corny stepped up. “Just for a moment. It’ll only take a moment. He knows me.”

  “Mortals are liars. They can’t help it,” said the faerie knight. Kaye could see her teeth were as sharp as the knife in her hand, and unlike the mermaids’, hers were bone. She smiled at Corny. “It’s your nature.”

  “Then let me go,” Kaye said. “I’m no mortal.”

  “You can’t.” Luis put his hand on her shoulder. “Remember? He’s not allowed to see you.”

  Mortals are liars. Liars.

  “Indeed,” Dulcamara said. “Get close to him and I will run you through. No more of the glamoured games you played in the Seelie Court.”

  Over and over Kaye heard the words repeat: Liars. Untruth. Lie. Lying. Dying. Dead. She thought about Corny’s fairy chess. She had to change the rules of the game. She had to solve the quest. She had to be the single variation. But how could she lie without lying?

  Kaye looked over at where Roiben stood, his armor being strapped onto his back. His long hair had two plaits braided in the front, each one wrapped with a sharp silver clasp at the end. He looked pale, his face pinched, as though with pain.

  “Oh,” Kaye said, and then she leaped into the air.

  “Stop!” Dulcamara shouted, but Kaye was already flying, her wings flapping frantically. For a moment, she had a view of the lighthouse on the far shore of City Island, and the glimmering city lights beyond. Then she half landed, half fell at Roiben’s feet instead.

  “You,” he said, and she couldn’t parse the tone of his voice.

  Ellebere grabbed her wrists and wrenched them behind her back. “This is no place for a Seelie Court pixie.”

  Ruddles pointed at her with a clawed hand. “To stand before our Lord and King, you must have completed your quest. If not, custom allows us to rend you—”

  “I don’t care what custom dictates,” Roiben pronounced, waving off his chamberlain. When he looked at Kaye, his eyes were empty of any emotion she knew. “Where is my sister?”

  “Silarial’s got her,” Kaye said in a rush. “Ethine’s what I came to talk to you about.” For the first time since the Tithe, she was afraid of him. She no longer believed that he would not hurt her. He looked as though he might relish it.

  Lick the Queen of the Seelie Court’s hand, Rath Roiben Riven. Lick it like the dog you are.

  “My Lord,” said Ruddles, “though I would not choose to contradict you, she may not remain in your presence. She hasn’t completed the quest you bestowed on her.”

  “I said leave her!” Roiben shouted.

  “I can lie,” Kaye choked out, her heart beating like a drum against her skin. The ground tilted under her feet and everyone around her went silent. She had no idea if she could pull this off. “I can lie. I am the faerie that can lie.”

  “That’s nonsense,” said Ruddles. “Prove it.”

  “Are you saying that I can’t?” Kaye asked.

  “No faerie can tell an untruth.”

  “So,” Kaye said, letting out her breath in a dizzy rush. “If I say I can lie and you say I can’t, then one of us must be telling an untruth, right? So either I am a faerie that can lie, or you are. Either way, I have completed my quest.”

  “That reeks of a riddle, but I see no fault,” the chamberlain said.

  Roiben made a sound, but she couldn’t tell if it was an objection.

  “Clever.” Ruddles’s grin was full of teeth, but he patted her on the back. “We accept your answer with pleasure.”

  “I suppose you have succeeded, Kaye,” said Roiben. His voice was soft. “From this moment forward your fate is tied to the Unseelie Court. Until the time of my death, you are my consort.”

  “Tell them to let me go,” Kaye said. She’d won, but her victory felt as hollow as a blown egg. After all, he didn’t want her.

  “Since you’re my consort, you may tell them yourself,” said Roiben. He did not meet her eyes. “They ought not deny you now.”

  Ellebere dropped Kaye’s arms before she could speak. Stumbling, she turned to glare at him and Ruddles. “Go,” she said, trying to sound commanding. Her voice broke.

  They looked to Roiben and moved at his nod. It was still hardly privacy, but it was the closest she was likely to get.

  “Why have you come here?” he asked.

  She wanted to beg him to be the Roiben she knew, the one who said she was the only thing he wanted, the one who hadn’t betrayed her and didn’t hate her. “Look at me. Why won’t you look at me?”

  “The sight of you is a torment.” His eyes, when he raised them, were full of shadows. “I thought if I kept you out of this war, it would be the same as keeping you safe. But there you were in the middle of the Seelie Court as though to prove me a fool. And here you are again, courting danger. I only wanted to save one thing, just one thing, to prove there was some good in me after all.”

  “I am not a thing,” Kaye told him.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, covering them with long fingers. “Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She caught his hands and he let her draw them from his face. They were as cold as the falling snow. “What are you doing to yourself ? What’s going on?”

  “When I became King of the Unseelie Court, I thought we could not win the war. I thought that I would fight and I would die. There is a kind of mad glee in accepting death as an inevitable cost.”

  “Why?” Kaye asked. “Why bind yourself to such a miserable fate? Why not just say ‘screw this, I’m going make birdhouses’ or something?”

  “To kill Silarial.” His eyes glittered like chips of glass. “If she isn’t stopped, no one will be safe from her cruelty. It was so hard not to crush her neck when I kissed her. Could you tell it from my face, Kaye? Did you see my hand tremble?”

  Kaye heard her own blood pounding at her temples. Could she really have confused loathing with longing? Recalling the blood on Silarial’s mouth, she thought of the way his eyes had seemed glazed over with passion. Now it seemed closer to madness. “Then why did you kiss—”

  “Because they’re my people.” Roiben swept his hand over the field, taking in the graveyard and the prison. “I want to save them. I needed her to believe I was in her power so she might agree to my terms. I know it must have seemed—”

  “Stop.” Kaye felt a cold finger of dread shiver up her spine. “I came here to tell you something,” she said. “Something I figured out about the battle.”

  He raised a single silvery brow. “What is it?”

  “Silarial’s going to choose Ethine as her champion.”

  His laugh was almost a sob, short and terrible.

  “Call off the duel,” Kaye said. “Find some excuse. Don’t fight.”

  “I wondered what terrible thing she might set against me, what monster, what magic? I forgot how clever she is.”

  “You don’t have to fight Ethine.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Far too much is at stake tonight.”

  Coldness spread from her heart to freeze her body. “What are you going to do?” Her voice came
out sharper than she’d intended.

  “I’m going to win,” he said. “And you would do me a great service if you told Silarial that I said so.”

  “You wouldn’t hurt Ethine.”

  “I think it’s time that you went, Kaye.” Roiben swung a strap with his scabbard attached over his shoulder. “I won’t ask you to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it, but I did love you.” He looked down as he said the words. “I do love you.”

  “Then stop doing this. Stop not telling me shit. I don’t care if it’s for my own good or whatever stupid reason—”

  “I am telling you shit,” Roiben said, and hearing him swear made her laugh. He smiled back, just a little, like he got the joke. In that one moment he seemed heartrendingly familiar.

  He reached out, still smiling, as though he were going to touch her face, but he traced the shape of her hair instead. It was not even a real touch, feather-light and never coming to rest, as though he were afraid to dare more. She shivered.

  “If you really can lie,” he said, “tell me this will end well tonight.”

  Icy air blew up a thin flurry of snow and tossed back Roiben’s hair as he strode past graves to the area marked for the duel. The Night and Bright Courts waited restlessly in a loose circle, whispering and chittering, pulling their cloaks of skin and fur and cloth closer. Kaye hurried behind the edge of the crowd to where the Bright Queen’s courtiers stood, their shimmering gowns blown by the wind.

  Ellebere and Dulcamara walked beside Roiben, their insectlike armor glittering against the frost-covered landscape and the stone markers. Roiben dressed as gray as the overcast sky. Talathain and another knight flanked Silarial. They wore green-stained leather with gilt studding their shoulders and their arms like the markings on a caterpillar. Roiben bent in so deep a bow that he might have touched his lips to the snow. Silarial made only a shallow bob.

  Roiben cleared his throat. “For decades there has been a truce between the Seelie and the Unseelie Courts. I am both proof of and witness to that old bargain, and I would broker it again. Lady Silarial, do you agree that if I defeat your champion, you will concede a concord between our two courts?”