The Clockwork Fairy Kingdom (16 page)

“As the queen wishes,” the warrior said. “We follow the queen’s
will.”

Nora glanced behind her. What was the warrior saying? Was he
really pledging his support to Adele, or just the opposite?

The queen held herself stiffly, then nodded. The warrior
closed the door with such a
thunk
that Nora jumped. Though she could stand all the way
up, the room suddenly felt much smaller.

“You made it through the portal,” the queen accused Nora.

“Yes. With daisies and magnets.”

“You have neither of those now,” Queen Adele said,
satisfied. “But you still see,” she added, pointing at Nora’s bracelet. “Don’t
you?”

Nora nodded. “Your kingdom was once beautiful,” she added.

“It’s still beautiful.”

“You’ve let it fall apart,” Nora said.

“All our sacrifices,
my
sacrifices, will be judged worthy once we start the machine,” Queen Adele
assured her. Then she looked slyly at Nora. “You could help, you know. Rebuild
the kingdom. Transform it.”

“No,” Nora said automatically.

The queen looked amused. “Your brother has been invaluable
to us,” she admitted. “But you—the court would choose you over him in an
instant.”

Nora swallowed around the hard lump in her throat. What was
the queen saying? If she gave herself up, would they let Dale go? “I’d like to
see him,” she said quietly.

“Everything has a price. What about—”

“Queen Adele, we must—oh.” A male fairy entered from
an inner set of doors that he promptly closed behind him. He had gray hair,
though his face still looked young. “The Maker?”

“Yes, Cornelius, the Maker.”

Cornelius also wore all white, with tools attached to his
gold watch chain and spectacles pushed up on his forehead. “A delight, my dear,”
he said, bowing his head to her.

Nora bowed back. The fairy placed his finger on the side of
his nose as he quizzically looked at her. He was taller than the queen, with
bigger wings. He seemed agitated, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Yes, Cornelius?” the queen asked with a sigh.

“Nothing, my queen, nothing,” Cornelius said, staring at
Nora, then nodding. “I’ve had the privilege of working with your brother. Fine
lad.”

“Is he in there?” Nora asked, stepping forward. “Can I see
him?”

“Of course!” Cornelius said, stepping toward the door.

The queen interrupted. “We were just discussing the price,”
she said, glaring at Cornelius. “Something of yours.”

“My bracelet?” Nora asked, holding out her arm. It meant she
wouldn’t see things clearly, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t rescue Dale.

“It’s a generous offer,” Queen Adele said. “However, you’re
still young, untrained. It will have no power once it’s out of your hands. No,
I need something more. Like your name.”

“No,” Nora said stubbornly. “That will give you too much
control over me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “How about something else
I made?” she asked, fingering the Franken-sweater.

“Such as?”

“This sweater. I knit it.”

“Every stitch?”

Nora nodded. “It’s my practice sweater. See? This is one of
the first parts,” she said, pointing to an uneven patch over her heart. “My
first attempt at knitting.” Then she held out the sleeve, showing off the
peacock lace. “This was the last.”

Queen Adele smiled widely, showing all her teeth, while
Cornelius pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I accept,” she purred.

Nora slipped the sweater off over her head. She’d miss it,
but she had to save Dale.

“You have as long as it takes me to disassemble this to talk
alone with your brother,” the queen said, snatching the sweater from her.

“Come, Miss,” Cornelius said. “This way.” Once they’d passed
through the door and stepped into a dark hallway, he whispered urgently. “When
the queen finishes taking apart your sweater, she’ll control you. Each stitch
bears the pattern of your name. It’s more completely
you
than any set of syllables your mother gave you. Now go,
quickly! Get out of here.”

“Not without Dale,” Nora said stubbornly.

Cornelius sighed. “He won’t listen to you. He has only the queen’s
voice in his head.”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine, but if you can’t get him away, you must leave
yourself. Before the queen finishes.” With that, Cornelius shoved Nora through
the far doors.

Nora shivered as she stepped into the next room. How could
she be so stupid? She’d thought she’d been clever, getting to talk with Dale
alone, so she could say her name without the fairies overhearing, get him to
remember it. She’d just have to save him quickly.

A huge machine dominated the center of the room. Brass pipes
curved around it, venting steam and magic. Wheels and gears of all shapes
studded its sides. Levers stuck out at graceful angles, making it seem both
ancient and modern at the same time. If she hadn’t known its function, Nora
would have said it was beautiful.

Movement and a flash of red caught Nora’s eye.
Kostya’s
little insect hopped from one wheel to the next.
It pressed its large stinger to the center of the gear, deposited a tiny,
jeweled egg, and then it flitted off.

Nora didn’t know what the creature was doing.
Kostya
hated the fairies. The little egg glowed like a drop
of poisoned blood, ready to burst when the wheel started turning. Whatever
happened, it wouldn’t be good. They had to get out of there.

“Dale!” Nora called, walking around the machine. “Dale!”

On the far side of the room, Dale stood with his back to
her. He wore a long white trench coat that Nora had never seen before. “What
are you doing here?” Dale asked without looking at her. His gaze remained fixed
on the machine. Glittering golden ropes attached him to it. Only when Nora
tried to grab one did she realize he wasn’t physically tied—they were
part of a spell.

“Dale, we have to get out of here,” Nora hissed. She tried
to get his attention by pulling on his arm, but he still didn’t look away from
the machine.

“No. You do. Just you. You and Mom need to leave.”

“Mom’s in the hospital,” Nora told Dale. “And it’s all your
fault.”

Dale hesitated.

Nora stepped in front of her brother, forcing him to look at
her. “That’s right, idiot. Your machine there kills everything electrical.”

“I know that,” Dale said. He scowled and walked away from
her, back to a workbench. He fiddled with two gears there, turning them in his
hands, making the gears mesh together.

“Everything, Dale. Even Mom’s pacemaker.”

Dale froze. “She’s fine,” he insisted.

“I don’t know,” Nora said bitterly, joining him. She pulled
on his arm, trying to get him to turn and face her. “I had to leave before she
got out of surgery to rescue your sorry butt.”

“I don’t need rescuing,” Dale insisted, looking back at the
machine. “Just go, Nora.”

Nora’s heart beat faster. At least Dale remembered her name.
When he moved away, she tried to hold onto his sleeve, then realized she couldn’t.
“I can’t feel my hands,” Nora whispered. She held them up in front of her,
flexing and then clenching her fingers. “The fairies are discovering my name.”

“Good,” Dale said. “That’s good. You can stay here with me,
forever.”

“And never see the sun again?” Nora whispered. “Or the
ocean? Never create something just because I want to, but only at the queen’s
command?”

“But—she’s the queen!” Dale protested.

At least Dale was looking at Nora again. “And I’m your
sister,” she said, reaching for and finally grabbing his hand. It felt warm and
solid in her hands, more so than her own skin. “Your twin. Your mirror. Your
opposite. What’s my name?” She still remembered it; however,
Kostya
had told her to remind Dale of it.

“Nora,” Dale said. He wrapped his hands around her wrists.
When he touched her magic bracelet, his eyes widened as if he’d just woken up. “Nora,”
he whispered. “You don’t belong here. This place isn’t messy, like you. It’s
perfect and ordered.”

“No, it isn’t,” Nora insisted. She wrapped her hand over
his, the one over the bracelet. “See,” she hissed.

Though this room was in better shape than most of the
palace, the corners still held piles of discarded parts, the upper-level
balcony had holes in the banister, and many of the wheels on the wall were
covered with rust.

“No,” Dale moaned as if his heart were breaking. “Wait. I
can fix it!”

“Dale, no, look at me, look at me.” Nora’s feet grew numb, as
if ice water seeped over her shoes and swirled around her ankles. “The fairies
aren’t good, Dale. Neither is
Kostya
. We have to get
out of here, Dale. Back to Mom. Back to our family.” Nora’s knees swayed under
her. She let go of his hands. “You have to save yourself,” she whispered as she
slid to the floor. “Go see Mom.” Even if she couldn’t be part of her family anymore,
it had to survive her.

“Nora!” Dale shouted. He dropped to his knees beside her. He
spent a long moment looking at the machine before he turned his back on it and
deliberately put his hand over her wrist again, wrapping his fingers around the
bracelet that let him see clearly, too. “You’re my pain-in-the-ass sister and
you’re more important than some machine.” He smiled at her. She could tell his
heart was breaking over his decision.

“You idiot,” Nora said. The ice grew fast, pressing in on
her chest. “You have to get away.”

“And you’re demented,” Dale said. “I’m still not leaving
without you.”

“Have to do more than just leave, you know,” Nora said, her
brother’s decision causing the slightest spike of warmth through her chest. “If
you don’t destroy it, they’ll just build it again. They’ll kill so many
innocent people. They can’t be allowed to take over.”

Dale pressed his lips together and looked away from Nora,
looked back at his precious machine. For a moment, Nora feared she’d lost him
again. Finally, he looked back at her and nodded. “Okay. We can beat this,
Nora. Together. The pair of us. Your magic and my tinkering skills.”

“You’re still an idiot,” Nora told him, her teeth
chattering. “Can’t give you my power.” She paused, remembering how she’d pushed
with
something
as she’d finished her
bracelet. “Maybe some control, though,” she murmured, gathering the fire inside
her that protected her from the cold, the piece that the ice wanted so badly.

“Then let me use it,” Dale insisted. “And I’ll get us out of
here.”

“Promise?” Nora asked. She pushed the flame into her hands.
The world turned white.

“Promise.” The word landed as softly as a snowflake on a
frozen leaf.

Nora pushed once again, as hard as she could, before she
slid away, losing herself in the consuming blizzard.

Dale’s hands trembled as he cupped Nora’s magic, lifting the
crackling ball of glowing flames from her chest. He finally understood: He didn’t
have her power, could never take it from her, just as she could never have his
power, his skill with machines. He could merely direct hers for a while. Both
abilities were special, unique, and awesome. Combined, they were even more so.

Using the fire, Dale cut through the glittering cords tying
him to the machine, disgusted by the spell, heartbroken that the
fairies—his queen—hadn’t understood. He would have gladly worked on
the machine without them.

Nora’s truth bound him to admit, cringing, that even once he’d
learned what the machine did, he still would have worked on it, if the
perfection of the kingdom had been true, if the grace of the queen had
inhabited the warriors as well.

Dale pushed the thoughts away. He didn’t have time for
regret or recriminations. The fairies would be there any minute to take his
sister away, and he couldn’t let them do that. She infuriated him, frustrated
him, and made him crazy, but she was also a part of him—his reflection
and twin. He couldn’t lose her.

Moving swiftly, Dale walked to the machine, balancing Nora’s
power in his left hand. He’d been deep in the secondary power supply, rerouting
the lines to make the machine more efficient. Quickly, he added another layer
of gears, using Nora’s magic to shift and transform the machine so the power
would build and build.

Then he blocked the outflow channel. There was nowhere for all
that energy to go.

Dale stepped back, wiping tears from his eyes with the back
of his free hand. This beautiful piece of clockwork would blow itself to bits
once it was turned on. He hated doing it, but he had no choice: Nora was right.
The fairies couldn’t be allowed to take over. He quickly added the cover
plates, closing the machine up, making it look finished.

A flash of red made Dale turn. An insect the size of his
palm, made out of clockwork, flitted from one gear to the next, depositing a
drop of red gel. Dale didn’t know what the drop would do, but now that he was
looking, he saw them sitting at the heart of many of the gears. He held himself
back from shooing the thing away. Another level of sabotage would obscure his
part in the machine’s destruction.

Now, Dale had to get Nora out of there. A tiny ball of fire
remained in his hand, sparking intermittently. He brought it back to his
sister. She’d gone white and cold. Her eyes remained open, an unnatural blue
instead of a friendly brown. He set the ball on her chest, over her heart, then
pressed down, fascinated as it disappeared under her skin. Nora’s eyes blinked,
once, twice, then changed, growing warm again. “We have to go,” Dale told her.

Nora nodded. “Did you—”

“Yes,” Dale said curtly. He didn’t expect Nora to understand
his sacrifice. He wasn’t like her: Destruction wasn’t natural to him, a natural
part of the cycle, which he saw clearly carrying her magic. He fought against
entropy. Watches needed to be rewound, not allowed to run down.

Dale helped Nora sit up, wrapping his coat around her when
he saw she still shivered. Then he helped her stand. He kept his arm around
her, supporting her because her legs didn’t move well.

Outside the room, Dale stopped abruptly. Cornelius stood on
the stairs.

“Come on,” Cornelius said. “Follow me. I’ll get you out.”

Dale hesitated.

“He speaks the truth,” Nora whispered.

Relieved, Dale followed the fairy up the stairs, supporting
Nora all the way.

“It’s not right,” Cornelius explained as they walked. “We
weren’t always like this,” he said, gesturing to the dingy hallways and
unswept
rugs that Dale saw for the first time. “When the
fairies from the southern kingdom came, I finally saw just how far we’d fallen.”

Southern fairies? There was more than one kingdom?

“But the queen has put her people at risk,” Cornelius
continued. “It isn’t right.”

“Cornelius, the machine—” Dale started, still feeling
guilty that he’d changed it and would cause its destruction.

“Yes, yes, I know, lad. It’s going to explode,” Cornelius
said. “But never you fear. Look around you. Have you ever seen the halls this
empty?”

Dale looked around. Not a servant was in sight.

“Everyone of importance has fled,” Cornelius assured Dale.

“But the queen—” Dale remembered how magical she’d
seemed, appearing to him on the road, perfect in every way, from her clockwork
wings to her charming laugh.

Cornelius shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

***

Queen Adele chortled over the Maker’s sweater. The girl had
thought she’d been so clever and coy, hiding her name. Adele already knew her
name—Nora—she just needed the girl to give it to her, to claim it,
stupidly, as humans did: “I am Nora,” instead of the more polite, “You can call
me Nora.” It didn’t matter. Every knot of the sweater told who she was, all the
details of her name, more than just words possibly could.

Using her teeth, Adele tore into the bottom of the sweater.
It didn’t take her long to find a thread she could yank on, quickly unraveling
the Maker’s work. Each stitch pulled out easily, singing of its maker. Adele
learned of the girl’s hopes to be as good as her grandmother, her fears of
never measuring up, how she needed to tie things together, like her family and
her friends.

When Cornelius came back into the room, Adele ordered him to
come help her. “Hold this. Here,” she said.

“My queen, I think we should go,” Cornelius said quietly.

“Nonsense,” Adele said. “Why should I leave when everything
we’ve worked for, everything we’ve sacrificed for, is about to be achieved?”

“But my queen, what if there’s a problem—”

“There won’t be any problem, Cornelius,” Adele said, glaring
at the fairy. “My human is quite under control. Everything will be fine.”

“As you wish,” Cornelius said, holding onto the neck of the
sweater while Adele gleefully pulled it apart, her hand rising from her waist
to over her head with every tug. More knowledge of the Maker’s cleverness, of
the girl’s joy and determination, flowed to Adele.

“Cornelius, can you—” Queen Adele looked up. The
jeweler was gone. Adele shook her head. He didn’t realize how powerful the
Maker was, or the human Tinker. That was good. She heard the clicking of
machinery from the other room. Putting the sweater down, Adele marched into the
other room.

With just a glance, Adele could tell that the machine was
finished. All it needed was a spark from her for it to start. Its lines flowed
beautifully, and the potential power it held was tremendous to behold. She didn’t
know where the boy or Cornelius had gone. It didn’t matter.

If only Thaddeus had been there to see this. Adele wiped a
tear away as she flew up to the second level, to the large intake bin. She
pulled power from deep inside herself, gathering it, watching it glowing
brightly blue as she poured it out into the funnel.

The pressure of the building power wound the mainspring.
Adele flew down so she could see it turn, tightening the finely tuned wire,
before the power transferred from the main works to the secondary works,
changing nature as it moved through the machine, gaining momentum.

After several minutes, Adele realized something was wrong.
The power never left the secondary works. It just kept building and building.

A movement distracted Adele. An ugly insect, blood red and
ungraceful, flitted from the bottom gears toward the top. A quick look told
Adele all she needed to know: dwarf work. She wanted to attack it, pull it from
the machine and destroy it, but there wasn’t time.

Someone had been in collusion with the dwarf and had
sabotaged Thaddeus’ great machine. Had it been Cornelius? It couldn’t have been
the boy—he’d been too much under her control.

Cursing, Adele raced for the other room, away from the great
machine, as it started to rumble.

***

Kostya
couldn’t believe his luck: No
fairies stood guard outside the entrance to the tunnels leading to his home. He
rushed inside, tottering as fast as he could along the rough paths. He knew
they’d return soon. He only had a few minutes at best before they’d come after
him again.

The tunnels hadn’t changed much. The fairies hadn’t salvaged
a lot from his place.
Kostya
breathed a sigh of deep
relief as he entered his rooms, comforted by the amount of accumulated things
scattered around. Nora’s room had been nicer than most, but she hadn’t been
gathering for as long as he had been.

Kostya
quickly went from pile to
pile, picking up a bag and stuffing it with more things: wire, tools, doll
parts, broken pottery, rotting furs, and empty bottles.

When
Kostya
didn’t hear any
fairies behind him, he slowed his frantic pace. Where had they gone? Had they
decided to leave him alone? Had something else distracted them?
Kostya
thought for a moment. Had the boy finished the great
machine already?

The rumbling through the earth answered
Kostya’s
questions. Not only had the boy finished, but his
ohotnik
had also done its job.
The entire cliff was going to blow.

Kostya
ran for his escape hatch,
not sure he would make it this time.

***

Robert drove slowly up to Denise’s house. No car was parked
in the driveway. An old truck sat next door—Robert assumed it was the
neighbor who’d driven Nora home.

Cautiously, Robert got out of his car. The street appeared
deserted. He made his way across the gravel to the house. Still no one showed
up. Brazenly, Robert knocked on the door. He knew he could always claim to be a
friend of Denise’s if the girl opened the door.

No answer.

Robert tried the door handle. Who didn’t lock their door
these days? It appeared Denise didn’t. He should leave her a note about that.

The sour smell of medicine floated through the air. The
living room looked wrong—the couch wasn’t in the right place. Robert
fought the urge to straighten it out.

A quick walk through the house assured Robert that it was,
indeed, empty. He found a back office. The computer wasn’t password protected,
another thing Robert
tsked
about. He pulled open the drawers of the massive desk in the office, striking
gold. He recognized official State of California documents right away.

Denise had already filled out the Decree of Divorce along
with a restraining order. Good. Robert wouldn’t have to forge her signature. He
held the paper up to the fading afternoon light. The date wouldn’t be difficult
to erase and redo, and he knew a good service that would fake the notarization.
He didn’t know if his friend could backdate the actual filing, but Robert was
willing to pay good money to try.

Robert grimaced as he stood up. This job had cost him so
much more money than it had paid. He also had more people after him, again. The
big boss wouldn’t forgive his debt, Robert knew. It was just a matter of time
before it all caught up with him.

However, Robert was a gambler at heart. Life wasn’t worth
living if it wasn’t a gamble.

Smiling, Robert walked out of the house without checking the
door first.

Of course, the driver of the red truck stood in the yard,
waiting for him. “What were you doing in there?” he asked, striding forward.

Robert heard the unspoken
scumbag
. The man was former military, he was certain. “Nothing! I
was just getting some papers for Denise.”

“Well, let’s see them,” the guy said. He looked tall and
strong, tan from working outdoors, teeth white from too much calcium and body
building.

“They’re private,” Robert declared, trying to bluff his way
out.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I own this property,” he said
menacingly. “I’ve never seen you before. Do you want me to have you arrested
for trespassing?”

Gulping, Robert shook his head and handed the papers over.

The man scanned them quickly. “Huh.” Without looking up, he
added, “You can go.”

“But I need to—”

The man finally looked up. Something about his face reminded
Robert of the figure in the back of the car, a skull floating just under the
skin. “Go. Now. Before I change my mind.” The menace was obvious and immanent.

Robert backed away slowly. “You’ll—you’ll make sure
those get filed?”

The man grinned at him. “Oh yeah. These’ll be filed. With an
appropriate date, too, if you get what I mean. Now leave. And don’t come back.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m going. I’m going.” Robert barely held
himself back from sprinting to his car.

Quiet and order flowed over Robert as the engine started and
purred. Everything in the car was in its proper place. He quickly found his way
back to the highway, then continued, following it out of town and beyond. He
was happy to be leaving. Maybe the bosses would find him. Maybe they wouldn’t.
Maybe the next big score would be the one. His luck was bound to change,
particularly since he’d not only had he screwed over the man who had tried to
cheat him, he’d just helped a family as well.

***

The staircase leading up out of the fairy kingdom started
shaking. Nora clung to Dale, forcing her legs to work. She still felt as if an outside
force controlled her, fought her for control of her body and will.

Cornelius flew above them. “Faster!” he yelled over the
roaring. “Faster!”

Nora tried, focusing on her steps, lifting one foot after
another, but she was cold, so cold. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel warm
again. All her fire had burned out. “You should have left me,” she mumbled.

Dale snorted. “Like that was ever going to happen. No, Nor,
you’re stuck with me. Just like I’m stuck with you.”