Fairy Keeper (12 page)

Sierra ran to him and put her hands on his arms. “Are they dead, too?”

She feared she already knew the answer.

“Yeah, all of them, with the queen missing… again.” He dropped to his knees, and she waited for his tears, but they didn’t come. His eyes were wild but dry.

“He’s got to know why this is happening! We’re going to find him!” And with this declaration, Corbin took off, gravel from the path spraying behind him.

Nell and Sierra exchanged a look and chased after him, all the way down and back into the village, their feet crunching through gravel and then slapping the hard dirt path that began at the edge of the village. Corbin puffed from his run, and Sierra developed a stitch in her side. Her boots were still damp, and the air was cold enough to burn her throat as she panted. Nell didn’t look winded at all, and Sierra was about to grumble about that, but then she saw where Corbin had led them.

They were at a tavern. Specifically, they were about to enter another Flight den. Jack bragged about this one for a week when he got it set up. The Spider’s Web never closed. Jack was so pleased he was still able to establish a hot spot here, even though the old keeper refused to work for him or sell him nectar. Before Sierra could protest, Corbin had pushed his way through the swinging doors. The dull roar of conversation and music from the lunch crowd poured through the doors before they swung shut, cutting off the noise as if it had never been there.

The air was cold on Sierra’s cheeks, but heat rose in them as she thought about going in there, the daughter of the man who supplied them with their illegal elixir. She shook off her reluctance, because if Corbin was in there, he’d need them with him. These people might not recognize her by sight at least, not two ports over. She looked at Nell already opening the doors.

Sierra stepped through, and the heat of the bar wrapped around her like a blanket, making her frozen nose and fingertips throb. The pungent scent of fried onions hung in the air, against the backdrop of the too-sweet smell of Flight she expected. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden dimness. By the time she could see, Corbin was already speaking to someone at the old wooden bar that sliced across the back of the building. Corbin gestured wildly with his hands. Never a good sign. Nell pushed through the throngs of bodies without difficulty, but Sierra was more like a minnow caught up in her wake. Sierra scowled and pressed harder against the sea of shoulders, making space. She still didn’t move as easily as Nell, but then, Sierra was a head shorter. Corbin’s voice rose before they reached him.

“But you’ve got to have some idea! You were my last hope!” He was practically wailing. It wasn’t like Corbin to create a disturbance. The man in question seemed to have placed all his hopes in the bottom of a bottle. He leaned at a sharp angle over the bar, steepling his hands against his forehead for a long moment before looking back up as Nell sat next to him. He squinted one eye, then the other, attempting to focus on the blonde girl next to him and failing. Instead, he swiveled his head toward Corbin, eyebrows raised high. Sierra saw a keeper mark on the man’s leathery, wrinkled neck.

This had to be Keeper Hannon.

his is Nell, and this is Sierra.” Corbin introduced them to the drunken keeper without any of the usual, expected formality. Gesturing at her neck, he added, “Sierra’s a keeper, too.”

Keeper Hannon sat up a bit straighter and faced her. He peered into Sierra’s face and then leaned back, as if he saw a rattlesnake.

“I told your father I would not help him!” he said as he hauled his arm back and threw his now-empty ale glass at her. “Is this his punishment?”

Sierra hopped back. The glass thudded at her feet. A few people looked their way. Great. So much for slipping through unrecognized. She really hated being judged for her father’s life and the notoriety that came with it. She hoped the curious patrons looked away before the man got louder.

Corbin’s great mentor slid off the seat, boneless, but Corbin caught him on the way down. “Please! We need to know what could have caused this…”

More heads turned their way.

Heat climbed up Sierra’s neck as the old man glared at her, as if she’d murdered his only child. She supposed he thought she had, in a manner of speaking.

He pointed a wobbly finger at Sierra and hissed, “I won’t talk to her, daughter of the man who bleeds fairies dry for his own profit.”

Shame and fury bled together in Sierra, but she nodded. She understood his point of view, at least about Jack. “I can’t do anything about that. If you’ll help us, though, we’ll get the queens back. But we don’t even know where to start looking.”

The old man smashed his lips together, saying nothing. Fury won out over shame, and she stepped forward until they were nose to nose. A drunk old fool would not trap her sister in a far away city to live as an elixir runner. The fumes of the alcohol in his breath stung her eyes, but she didn’t blink. Pressure built inside her, intolerable. She needed to succeed for Phoebe.

Sierra cast about for anything that could get the keeper to talk. The words came out without hesitation, even though they made her want to gag. “If you don’t help us, I’ll be sure to tell Jack what you think about him.”

Nell inhaled sharply, reminding Sierra she had a guard. She grabbed onto another idea. Yes, she would use the enforcer to the best effect.

“See this lovely lady?” Sierra pointed to Nell.

His eyes whirled in their sockets before settling on Nell’s grim expression.

“She works for my dear father. She’s his enforcer. Any idea what that means?” Sierra’s voice had turned as sickly sweet as the fumes floating down the stairs.

Corbin looked at her with eyes wide with shock. He’d never been around when Sierra smart-mouthed Jack. She learned a while back that it didn’t pay to sass Jack, and she had given up on it years ago. But she had a natural talent for it, and her patience was gone.

Desperation propelled her further. She gestured at her bruise. “Like it? Want one? Nell here can help you out, but it’d be better if you’d tell us on your own.”

He spat in Sierra’s face. Nell grabbed her arm, and it was only then she realized she had raised her hand to backhand him. Like Jack did to her.

She was just like Jack.

The heat of the room suffocated her, and her stomach turned at the rank odor of onions and meat. She raced out the door. The cold air should have set steam off her body. She took in great gasping breaths, her ears ringing outside in the relative silence of the port town. The wharfs were too far away from the tavern to be heard, other than occasionally muffled shouts carried through the air from the loading docks. The clouds were rolling in again.

Shame blossomed inside at the memory of what she almost did to a helpless drunk, someone in mourning for his queen, someone who was a proper keeper. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Closing her eyes, she stood as still as she could for a moment.

Carefully, she built a picture of Queen in her mind. Focusing on the image with her whole heart, Sierra allowed her emotions to well up without stopping them. For the first time, she admitted that some grief mingled with her fear and relief about the fairies’ disappearance and what it could mean. An urge to run filled her, to run far away and be free, but Jack’s threat kept her feet still. He had controlled her all her life, and still did. For now.

Sierra opened her eyes. Gazing at the sky, she swore an oath to herself in that moment. She wouldn’t travel the world the way he would. She wouldn’t manipulate others and take from them without considering the consequences. Jack might have control of her life, but she wouldn’t give him control of her soul. He wouldn’t turn her into a little him.

Nell and Corbin stepped out of the doors, carrying the man between them. His head was lolling, and Sierra glanced at Nell.

She shook her head and said, “Just dead drunk.”

Could be worse. “Do you have any goldenrod roots?”

The older girl smirked. “In my line of work?”

Twenty minutes later, the poor keeper was vomiting up his past hour’s worth of alcohol. The smell made Sierra’s throat tight, but Nell kept eyeing her, so she stood there, shoulders back. Corbin held up the keeper’s head, despite being a light shade of green himself. Keeper Hannon groaned. Good, he was awake.

“I bet he has some mint leaves back in his garden, if we carry him home. It might… help,” Corbin suggested.

“Good idea,” Sierra said. She’d just as soon not watch―or smell―the keeper get sick again, but going to his house would also allow them to question him privately.

Corbin carried him under the arms, and Nell got his legs. Sierra followed along behind them, like she was reading a tale about someone else.

An hour later, though, they were all tucked inside his little cottage, holding mint tea. Sierra sat on the other side of the room―it seemed best―but Corbin spoke plenty loud, and the room wasn’t too big in the first place.

“So you are saying the wild fairies, if there are still some around, would be in the Skyclad Mountains?”

“As in, the place people go to die?” Nell didn’t flinch, but she looked disbelieving.

The old keeper laughed softly. That laugh raised the hair on the back of Sierra’s neck.

He said, “I found my queen there. I went seeking her and nearly died for my trouble. Wild fairies are quite different than the ones bred in captivity, but they were still drawn to me. There aren’t enough domesticated queens born anymore, and fewer every year. I tried to warn people about it years ago, but―”

“So you’re saying there aren’t enough fairies for all the keepers?” Nell looked over at Sierra, as if to make sure she was catching this.

Shock tied Sierra to her seat. Fewer and fewer fairies… so… some born with keeper marks might be unable to even find a fairy queen to bond with? What did that mean? Did that have anything to do with their missing queens?

Sierra felt torn. One part of her wanted so desperately to be free. She’d volunteer in a second to be the unbound keeper, to be free to do whatever she wanted with her life, even if it meant always feeling incomplete. She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. She’d never heard of an unbound keeper. But it didn’t matter. The other half of her knew if she got her wish right now, Phoebe was doomed. That was no choice at all.

“What’s the best way to get up the mountains?” Sierra called across the room. Her voice cut through the lower voices of Keeper Hannon and Corbin.

Everyone looked at her like she had suggested they chop off their own heads.

Nell said, “It’s about a week’s journey to get to the base. I have no idea how long it’d take to actually hike up that thing. That’s cutting it real close to your deadline, don’t you think? Not to mention manticores, griffins, and any other weird and magical creature out there likely to hunt us?”

Sierra leaned forward in her chair. “Who says we’ve got to go all the way to the top? As soon as we find a queen, we’ll be out of there. Besides, no one’s seen any of those wild magical creatures in years, except the occasional griffin. Everyone knows that merfolk, unicorns, and fairies are only still around because we care for them.”