The Fire Chronicle (12 page)

And besides the average-looking men and women going about their shopping, Kate saw dwarves moving through the crowd, smoking their long pipes and attracting no notice whatsoever. And there were other creatures, smaller than dwarves and beardless, who wore furry caps and stood arguing in tight groups, poking one another with their tiny fingers. Kate watched them in amazement till a woman passed by carrying a basket and drew her attention. The woman was sweet-faced and grandmotherly, and Kate was about to smile at her when she saw that the woman’s basket was alive and squirming with snakes.

“Come on,” said Jake and Beetles, and they each took an arm and led her forward.

The first stall sold wigs of fairy hair in different colors: gold and silver, pure snowy white, a rather arresting pink. The next stall promised to remove curses. The one after that let you buy curses (boils, baldness, pursued by cats …). There were three or
four stalls occupied by fortune-tellers, one of whom was a girl of Kate’s age who watched her closely as she went by. There was a stall that sold toads, tended by a man who looked like a toad himself and called out his wares in a deep, reverberating croak. There was a large tent where four shirtless and sweating dwarves hammered away at anvils with a rhythmic clinking and banging while another dwarf worked the bellows of a fire so hot that Kate actually unbuttoned her jacket. There was a tent devoted to eggs: not just dragon eggs, but also unicorn eggs, griffin eggs, manticore eggs, and eggs of animals that Kate had never heard of. There was a stall whose entrance was covered by a tarp, with a dense green smoke escaping from under the canvas, the tendrils crawling across the slush and cobblestones. Kate followed the boys’ lead and stepped carefully past. Another tent was stocked with thousands of stoppered glass bottles, and the boys informed her that this was where you bought glamours. A glamour, they told her, was a potion that let you change your appearance, and many of the more eye-stopping magical folk used them when they went among normal humans. As Kate and the boys passed by, a tall, thin man with green, scaly skin like a fish downed the contents of a clear glass vial and was instantly transformed into a short, pudgy man with brown hair. And there was a stall that was stacked high with wooden boxes and had a sign declaring
THINGS THAT BITE
. When they’d passed the stall for the third time without having doubled back, the boys told her that it was a trick some vendors used, making their stalls appear again and again. And there were tents where men and women in dark cloaks who had strange markings on their faces and hands were huddled and
muttering over boiling black cauldrons that smelled of dead fish, burning hair, and sickness. Kate kept well clear of these.

As they’d walked, the street had veered and become even darker and narrower; Beetles now plucked at her sleeve.

“We should go back.”

“Why? There’s more—”

“Here on out is Imp territory. It ain’t safe.”

“Who’re the Imps?” Kate asked.

“The Imps is the Imps. The gang what controls this part a’ the Bowery. They only been here a few months, but they’re bad, real bad.”

“Real, real bad,” said Jake.

“We should go back and find Rafe.”

“Yeah, no foolin’ anymore; Rafe’s gonna want to talk to you.”

Kate didn’t respond. A plan had begun forming in her mind. Couldn’t any wizard or witch send her through time? Maybe she didn’t need Dr. Pym. Maybe she didn’t have to go all the way to Cambridge Falls. Her eyes fell on a woman in a dark green shawl who sat before a covered booth. She had brown hair that was streaked with gray, and there was a softness in her eyes that appealed to Kate. She pulled free of the boys and walked over.

“Excuse me?”

The woman looked up. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” Kate said haltingly. “… Are you … a witch?”

“I am. Do you need help?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Well, come in. Let me see what I can do.”

The woman stood and opened the canvas flap. Kate hesitated, wondering if she was being rash. But the thought was fleeting. Cambridge Falls was a long and difficult journey, and this woman was right here.

The woman smiled, as if guessing Kate’s thoughts.

“I promise, child, I don’t bite.”

Nodding, Kate stepped into the stall. She glanced back and saw Jake and Beetles gesturing for her to come away. Then the witch dropped the flap and shut them out.

“First things first, you want tea. You look half frozen. Have a seat; there’s a chair behind you.”

To Kate’s surprise, the inside of the booth was warm and cozy. Three or four overlapping rugs shielded them from the cobblestones. A squat black stove, its pipe snaking up through the roof, heated the stall nicely. There was another armchair opposite the one Kate occupied, and beside that, a wooden cabinet from which the woman was taking a small earthenware jar. She opened the jar, extracted a handful of green-black leaves, and stuffed them into a pot that was bubbling on the stove. The smell of peppermint filled the air.

“Lovely,” the woman said. “Always reminds me of Christmas.”

“I don’t have any money,” Kate said. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you—”

The woman gave a dismissive wave. “Worry about that later. What seems to be the problem? Is it a boy? I’m quite famous for my love potions.”

“No, it’s not a boy.”

“Trouble with your parents? You wish they’d be more understanding? Move your feet closer to the stove.”

Kate obeyed; her toes had begun to thaw, and they ached as the feeling returned.

“It’s … not my parents.”

“Perhaps a beauty charm. Though I don’t think you could be much prettier.” She handed Kate a steaming mug of tea. “Drink up now.”

“I need to go to the future.”

The woman stopped and looked at her, making no attempt to hide her surprise.

“That’s not a request I get every day. And why would you want that?”

“It’s … where I’m from. I came here by accident.”

The woman sat in the other armchair. The booth was small enough that she and Kate were knee to knee. Her eyes were deep blue and gentle.

“My dear, I think you’d better tell me what happened.”

Kate dropped her gaze to the untouched tea. “It’s complicated. I can’t … tell you everything. But the magic that brought me here, some of it’s still in me. You can use it to send me home. Someone did it before. She …”

“What’s wrong, child?”

The stall was becoming uncomfortably hot. Kate felt herself sweating.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Can you help me?”

“Well, I won’t pretend I’m the greatest witch in the world.
But there’s certainly magic in you. I sensed it the moment you walked in.”

“So you’ll send me back?”

Kate hated how desperate she sounded. And the fact was, something was wrong. Her vision had begun to blur. The woman’s face swam before her.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well? Let me have that before you drop it.”

The mug was taken from her hand. Kate started to rise. She needed to get out. She needed cold air to clear her head.

“Where are you going, child?”

“I just … I need …”

And then she pitched forward into darkness.

When she woke, she heard voices and, for a moment, thought she was back in the rooftop shed and that the voices belonged to Jake and Beetles. But these weren’t boys’ voices. They were harsh and guttural, and spoke as if the very act of making words was foreign and unnatural. Then she heard the witch’s voice.

“You’re not cheating me out of this one. She’s special.”

Kate opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground, her cheek resting on one of the rugs. There was a cloud inside her head. The witch had drugged her. Something in the tea fumes. How long had she been unconscious? Past the iron legs of the stove, she made out two pairs of muddy boots.

“We never paid no hundred dollars. You know that.”

The voice sounded like a wild animal that had been taught to speak. Every word was a growl. Kate had to get away. Praying that no one was watching, she began to inch toward the door.

“I’m telling you,” the witch said, “this one has magic in her. Deep magic. More powerful than any I’ve ever seen. He’ll want her. Believe me; he’ll want her.”

“Seventy dollars.”

“A hundred. And if he thinks she’s not worth it, I’ll return the money.”

“People are saying crazy things now,” snapped the harsh voice. “Everyone’s trying to get what they can before the Separation.”

“This is nothing like that. A hundred dollars is fair.”

“Fine. But if he ain’t happy, we’ll be back.”

Kate knew she was out of time; she would have to make a dash. She tried to push herself up, but her arms gave way. She was too weak. Too weak to run, too weak to fight. Then leathery, sharp-nailed hands were grasping her under the shoulders and heaving her to her feet. Kate saw the witch counting a wad of money.

“Please …”

The witch smiled, her eyes as gentle as ever. “You should’ve just asked for a love potion, child.”

Kate was dragged out the back of the tent and onto a crowded sidewalk. To her dismay, the cold air did nothing to clear the fog in her head, and she struggled to catch the attention of the people walking by.

“Please … help me.…”

“Quiet,” growled one of her captors. “No one cares.”

And so it seemed. For as they yanked her stumbling along the sidewalk, passing eyes would glance up, see what was happening,
and quickly turn away. Kate could hardly blame them. She’d now had a chance to see her kidnappers. In some respects, they looked like short, thick-bodied men, dressed in dark suits and overcoats, their round hats pulled low. But these were not men. Their skin was like the hide of an animal, rough and hard and dimpled. Their nails were thick and sharp. Stiff whiskers shot straight from their cheeks, while their lower jaws jutted up and out, displaying a pair of short yellow tusks. No, not men. So what were they? And what did they plan to do with her?

“Where’re you … taking me?”

“To the boss. Now shut it, or we’ll rip your tongue out.”

They jerked her down a narrow alley. It was dark and empty, and the sounds of the street soon faded away. Kate didn’t know when she’d started sobbing. She was just suddenly aware that she was shaking and that it had nothing to do with the cold. What was going to happen? To her? To Michael and Emma? To their parents? Why had she been so stupid! Why hadn’t she just gone to Cambridge Falls and found Dr. Pym! She’d doomed them all!

And to make matters even worse, the witch’s poison had returned. A deadness was spreading through Kate’s arms and legs. She stopped walking, but her captors simply dragged her on, her feet scraping over the cobblestones. She knew she could not stay conscious much longer. She had no strength left to fight.

Then came the sound of something moving through the air. There was a hard
thunk
, and the creature on Kate’s left grunted and fell. Released, Kate tumbled to the ground. She turned to see the other creature spinning, growling, a knife already in its hand. Too late, the creature sensed the cord that had looped around its
neck, and as a figure leapt down from above, the cord snapped tight and the creature was yanked to its toes. The cord, Kate saw, had been strung through the bottom of the fire escape, and the figure now took his end and wrapped it around a pipe protruding from the building’s wall. Kate’s captor was left dancing on tiptoe, clawing at the noose about its neck.

The figure was a boy. He looked to be about Kate’s age, or perhaps a year older. He had unkempt black hair, pale skin, and a nose that had been broken at least once. He was dressed lightly for the cold, but was not shivering. Kate watched as he went to the fallen creature and wrenched a knife out of its back. He cleaned the blade on the creature’s coat and slipped it into a sheath at the back of his trousers. Then the boy gave the snarling creature at the end of the cord a kick that sent it dancing across the alley. Finally, he looked at Kate, who had not moved from where she lay on the ground. Stunned as she had been by his sudden appearance, the boy—judging from the way he stopped and stared—was even more stunned by her.

He said, “… It’s you.”

Kate didn’t know what to say. She had never seen this boy before.

He pulled her to her feet.

“We need to move. There’ll be more Imps coming. Can you walk?”

“Who … are you?”

“My name’s Rafe.”

The name echoed in the dark cloud of her mind.

“The boys …”

“Yeah. They got to me.”

“But … how do you … know me?”

They were hurrying down the street; Kate was leaning against him. She could feel herself slipping. And, as the darkness closed in, she heard:

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have come.…”

“Get back!”

“Shouldn’t we run—”

“No.”

“But—”

“It will think you’re food.”

That was good enough for Michael, and he pressed himself into the alcove, wedging his shoulder tight against Emma’s. He could hear the slow
thud … thud … thud
of the creature’s footsteps coming down the alley, and at each impact, Michael saw dust shake loose from the stone columns of the archway. His confidence wavered.