The Faery Keepers (18 page)

             
She searches my face a moment. Leans across the table and brushes a stray strand of hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. I suffer her ministrations silently with bated breath. “When did you become so wise?” she asks softly, hazel eyes warm and molten.

             
I shrug, not sure about it myself. Not sure about anything, really, anymore.

             
“Okay. You can give this a spin. I still don’t like it, though. At the first sign things are going downhill, we are packing ship and moving to Bora Bora for the rest of our existence.”

             
“Isn’t that an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?”

             
“Exactly.”

             
“Wow, mom. Extreme much?”

             
“Nothing is ever to extreme when it comes to my baby.”

             
I gag at her word choice. “Gross.”

             
“Oh, stop it.” she whips the paper off the chair and tosses it playfully at me, scattering articles and adds all over the kitchen floor.

             
“Ow, I think you’ve given me a paper cut. I may bleed to death. There goes your plans for our Caribbean vacation.”

             
“Stop being saucy and go clean up your room or something else productive,” she said, waving me off with a flutter of her hands as she knelt to pile together the ruined newspaper.

             
“Fine, but if I die, it’s on your conscious,” I say, sucking on an imaginary cut on my finger as I stalk out of the room.

             
“Oh, honey, wait!” she calls me back.

             
“Yes?” I jog back to her.

             
“I was just thinking, since you’re birthday’s this Wednesday . . .and I’ll most likely be working all day, do you want your gift now?”

             
That was unexpected. “Sure?”

             
She gets up and goes into her bedroom just down the hall. Comes back and hands me a green and white paper wrapped box. It’s slightly rectangular and smaller than a toaster. “Thanks.”

             
“You have to open it first,” she laughs.

             
I slide my finger under the flap of paper and tear the wrappings off. Underneath is a shiny white box with a picture on it. A cell phone. “Oh. Thank you so much, mom. I mean it. It’s perfect.”

             
“Well I figured, you’re getting older, may as well be able to stay in touch with you when you’re out and about.”

             
“Well it’s not like I won’t be anywhere Maggie won’t be . . . But seriously, thank you a million times over,” I give her my best dazzling smile and stifle any traitorous thoughts that seem to want to surface. Hey, stupid little voice in my head? Shut up for once.

             
“Something wrong, honey? You look a bit . . .cross.”

             
“Nothing,” I say a little too quickly. She doesn’t seem to notice. Either that or she chooses to ignore it.

             
She smiles. “Good. Are you going to Margaret’s today?”

             
“S-sure,” I lie. Crap. Needed recovery status:
911
. “I mean, yeah, totally. We’re supposed to have a lazy day. Sitting around watching movies, popping some corn. You know . . . the usual.”

             
“Well, you girls have fun.”

             
She gets up and shuffles sleepily into the living room. A few seconds later I hear the sounds of the morning news drifting past me. It won’t be long until she’s out and snoring softly in her armchair.

             
I go upstairs to get dressed, shove my new phone in my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Maggie has no idea that I’m coming over, but I doubt it will that big of a shock to her. We were supposed to meet Derek at Nyla’s to go over some basic rules about Faery keeping and some other nonsense. I was only half listening to him when he explained it.

             
When I get to their apartment Parker answers the door.

             
“Oh, Kate, I didn’t know you were coming over. Come on in.”

             
“Thanks, Park. Morning.”

             
“You too. She’s not up yet, by the way.”

             
I nod. This is no surprise to me. Maggie isn’t exactly a morning person, per say.  Something we have in common to an extent. She’s just much worse than me.

             
I walk down to her doorway, which is closed flashing stickers she’s plastered on it for years with band names and logos, the largest of which reads ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK I roll my eyes at it and turn the knob.

             
“Maggie,” I call. “Hey, wake up sleepy head.” I peer around the door.

             
“Hey don’t you know how to knock?” she snaps, just pulling down the hem of a light blue T-shirt over her navel. She turns and looks at me. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I thought you were my brother.”

             
I raise my eyebrows at her. “I did call out, didn’t you hear me?”

             
“I was a little preoccupied.”

             
“Uh-huh. You’re ready, I take it?”

             
“Obviously.” She gestures to her outfit.

             
The walk to Derek and Nyla’s house takes less time than I thought it would. When we arrive there I knock on the door while Maggie stands to one side, shifting her weight from one foot to another and fiddles with her long blond hair. I wait two heart beats and start gnawing absently on my thumb nail. Five. Eight. Finally after about twenty seconds, the door cracks open and Nyla’s amethyst eyes look out at us.

             
“A very good morning to you,” she greets with a smile. “Would you like to enter?”

             
“Yes, please,” I say politely. Maggie rolls her eyes.

             
“Always a pleasure,” Nyla says and I swear there’s a note of sarcasm in her voice. But it’s too coated with sugar and honey for me to be sure. Maggie smiles an angelic smile at her, one that promises trouble if you say anything about it. I blink and walk past Nyla into the brightly lit house.

             
The sunlight looks beautiful through the huge panes of glass in the ceiling and golden rays bathe everything in the room in a golden honey hue. The plants soak it up, they look revitalized and a healthy, springy green. Flowers have bloomed and they dot the gold with purples, blues, oranges, yellows, and pinks. I breathe in the aroma of their blossoms.

             
“I see you favor plants,” Nyla says, noticing.

             
“They smell amazing.”

             
“That they do. But do you recognize any of them?”

             
“No,” I shake my head.

             
“I would not think so, as they are not from this world.”

             
“How—”

             
“OK, can we skip this idle banter about the flora?” Maggie cuts me off. “We’re not here to smell the roses. Where’s Derek?”

             
“He’ll be along in a moment. Tea, anyone?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“No, I don’t want any tea.” Maggie harrumphs and plops herself on the sofa and crosses her arms over her chest.

             
I shoot her a quizzical look.

             
“What? In my opinion it’s too early for tea. Coffee is OK. But tea? Blech.”

             
Sometimes I think my best friend is the strangest person in the world. But don’t ever tell her I said that.

             
“Would you like some coffee?” Nyla asks Maggie with a sparkling smile.

             
“Sure.”

             
With that she bustles off to the kitchen to make our refreshments. I hear her banging around in the cupboards and smell a fire which I hadn’t really noticed before now. It reminds me of camping and the great outdoors, making smores and sleeping under the stars in just a sleeping bag. Something I haven’t done in years.

             
Soon the smell of coffee brewing practically masks the smell of burning wood.

             
“Derek will come in soon,” she yells after a particularly loud clatter of a pot or pan.

             
“Are you sure you don’t need any help in there?” I ask, rising from my seat.

             
“No, no, no. I am fine, I assure you.” Her voice is closer and louder and sure enough a fraction of a second later the door opens and out she comes with two mugs clasped in her willowy hands.

             
“Here you are,” she hands them to us. As her hand touches mine for a brief second I can’t help but notice that her fingers are trembling. I catch her hand in mine and set my mug down.

             
“What’s wrong?”

             
“Wrong? Noth—wro— there is noth—” she stutters, struggling with her words.

             
“You’re lying. Faeries can’t lie, remember? Oh wait, you know that.” My voice is thick with sarcasm. “Where’s Derek?”

             
“He is just— He is—”
             

             
“Where. Is. Derek?”

             
“The Queen ordered him in for questioning!” she wails, purple droplets pouring from her eyes, in what I’m assuming is tears.

             
“WHAT?” Maggie and I gasp simultaneously, mouths agape. “Why? Why  would she—? What if—? What will she do to him?” it’s my turn to splutter.

             
“Please! We
cannot
do anything. He has to worm his way out of this himself. He has done so multiple times in the many moons I have known him.”

             
“Why is she questioning him?” I demand, unable to keep a quaver from my voice.

             
“She is querying all those who were there the night you two escaped. Derek is able to lie to him; he will get himself out of this jam. I swear to you. We need be patient and pray to our ancestors for assistance in our time of need. I have not known a situation where Derek did not weasel himself out of it.”

             
“But—”

             
“No buts! We will sit here and wait patiently for his return. Understand?” Her voice was firm and had a “there will be no tolerance” tone.

             
“Fine,” Maggie grumbles. “But are you sure there’s nothing that we can do?”

             
“I am positive.”

             
“Maggie will you please just relax and stop! Please?” I intervene before she starts arguing with Nyla again. “Obviously there is nothing that we can do or Nyla would have us doing it already.”

             
“Not if Derek made her swear to keep us here. I’m pretty sure she listens to him more than us. They are family after all.”

             
“Master Carson does not want you girls in anymore danger than you are already in,” Nyla said angrily. “Now would you please for the love of all that is
Fey
, forget any inclinations you two may have of going after him! He can look after himself. Now kindly drink your tea and coffee and quiet your mouths.”

             
“I will, but I want it known that I am not happy about it. And I will give Derek a piece of my mind when and if he returns.”

             
With that there is dead silence with the occasional sounds of slurping from our mugs. We sit on the old brown couch as tense as boards and clasp our cups with white knuckles. Nyla tries to appear busy and walks to and fro from room to room. It’s obvious that she is trying to keep an eye on us so we don’t go anywhere, her green eyes are piercing and if we make even the slightest noise while she’s in the kitchen, she’s back in a heartbeat, bearing down on us with the polished wooden tea kettle with the black burned rim on the bottom that quite frankly I’m getting tired of seeing.  Not to mention I’m in the desperate need of the lavatory.

             
“Crazy old bat,” Maggie hisses in my ear after one particular visit where she nearly scalds her hand with hot liquid as she accidentally overflows Maggie’s mug.

             
“Her intentions are good,” I counter.

             
“Yeah, but how are we ever going to learn if Derek keeps here with her as a babysitter?”