The Pirate Fairy (10 page)

The others also clutched the bridge’s handles.

“Everyone all right?” Ebba asked.

“Yes, thanks,” the others reported back to her with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Denny was scared now. This wasn’t too far from walking the plank. For the first time in his adult life, he knew mind-numbing, stark-staring fear. It didn’t taste too good. He said nothing, though, and followed the others into another section of the building. Lit sconces held by invisible hands lined the corridor. Denny couldn’t see the people holding them but heard their whispery voices.

“Let me see them,” Denny murmured to his fairy wings. The wings twitched and vibrated, and Denny gasped, holding his breath as the beings materialized. They all looked like black fairies with spider webs for wings and red eyes.

“He can see us,” one of them said to the others. All eyes trained on him, and Denny gave them a wave. They were quite beautiful actually, even though they projected a naughtiness he hadn’t expected from fairies. They smacked and spat at each other and at others walking past them.

“That’s the Unseelie Court,” Ebba said, turning around to Denny. She came back and walked beside him. “I’m glad you can see them. It bolsters your case.”

“How so?”

“You’re tapping into your magic and leaving your human side behind you.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Of course it is. The Unseelie Court members are the naughty ones. Those that are here are doing community service for small crimes.”

“What’s a small crime?”

“Frightening cattle, starting thunderstorms, hiding old ladies’ wigs, putting boils on people’s bottoms, having sex with humans. Oh, here we are.” She stopped speaking and led Denny into the most gorgeous room he had ever seen. The place was teeming with winged creatures of every kind imaginable. A winged horse stood at the front of the court on the left side. A centaur stood on the right.

“We’re case number three,” Ebba told Denny as a see-through pink fairy flew over to her and tossed Ebba a black and white envelope marked with the number three.

Ebba and Barthelmass flanked Denny as they took their seats. For the first time, Denny wasn’t troubled by his wings. They seemed to know what to do and hugged his back like soft pillows.

“Nice,” Ebba said to him. “Your wings are working with you. The only ones allowed to fly in the court house are the Seelie fairies, the goody-two shoes who work for the judge.”

“What’s he like?” Denny asked.

“He doesn’t say much but when he does, he’s brutal.” Ebba pored over the contents of the envelope and lapsed into silence. Denny had never sat in anything as comfortable as the chair in which he reclined. He was afraid he’d fall asleep so he focused instead on the long, black and white bench at the front of the room. It looked like it was made of marble. Its harlequin pattern mirrored the designs on the wall. This motif continued across the ceiling with black and white glass showing images of fairy wings, treetops and the occasional bird breaking into song. The court seats were luxurious, plush white velvet. Many people had removed their shoes. There was much scrunching of toes in the thick black carpeting. Denny wished he could do it too, but decided that since he was on trial defending his life, he should act with a little decorum.

The chattering and the swoop of birdsong ended as a judge in black robes entered the courtroom and sat in the middle of the long table up front.

“Pegasus, please alert the jury that we’re ready,” he said, sounding feeble and weak.

“Who said that?” the judge shouted, his gaze sweeping the courtroom.

Everyone froze.

“Who said I’m old and past it?”

A quiet panic seemed to descend on all those present.

Pegasus, the winged horse, whinnied and stamped his foot. Doors on either side of the room opened, and four men and four women entered, taking their seats beside the judge. Finally a blue-winged male fairy raised his hand.

“It was I, Your Honor. I humbly apologize.”

“Well, since you spoke up, I’ll forgive you. Next time you lose a wing.”

The man’s face turned red. “Yes, your honor. Thank you, your honor.” He took a seat, his face bright red.

Denny watched him and saw the poor man’s hand was shaking as he ran it over his face.
Oh, boy, this judge is gonna be a barrel of laughs
. Denny slumped in his seat, wondering how quickly into his trial the judge would have Denny killed.

“First case,” the judge bawled. “Come on. I want to go home. I’m missing the dragon-slaying semi-finals for this!”

The courtroom broke into an ethereal titter. The judge banged his gavel. “Where’s the defendant?”

Every head turned as a man rose and walked down the stairs. He wore similar prison-issue clothes to Denny, who recognized the guy with the eagle head and one wing.

“What’s with everything being black and white?” Denny whispered to Ebba.

“The judge sees the world that way. Everything is black and white.”

That wasn’t a good thing when Denny knew there were many shades between the two. This judge was going to be tough and probably merciless.

The man picking his way across the crowded courtroom seemed frail and shaky and finally reached the witness box, a wooden affair that rose from the ground. Once the man stepped inside, the box sprouted wrought-iron bars and hovered high above the courtroom participants.

Denny was petrified, but also fascinated. He glanced at the jury members but realized he could get a better look at them once he took the witness stand. He tried not to fret as he took in the fortress-like cage.

“Why are you here?” the judge asked the eagle man.

“Because I was arrested, your honor.”

“I know that, funny man.”

The crowd tittered but the judge spoke over the ripple of laughter, “What are your charges?”

“Ah. Piracy.” The eagle man looked pleased with himself.

The judge folded his hands and leaned on the bench, studying the accused. “Do you dispute the charges?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard them yet.”

The judge glanced up and down the row of jurors, who kept leaning into one another, whispering. Denny had never seen women on a jury before, but he’d also never seen jurors gossiping and giggling during a trial either.

“You are charged with capital crimes. You are a menace to the high seas. Do you deny it?” the judge asked.

The eagle man said, “Your honor, there is a French proverb that states, ‘One meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it.’”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I tried to make an honest living, but being a pirate is a lot more fun.”

The courtroom erupted with appreciative laughter. Denny hid a smirk, frightened that any display of support of a man on trial might harm his own case. He stared at the eagle man who continued to banter with the judge. It was only when the eagle man said, “Your honor, I was cursed by the princess of this island,” that Denny saw the anger behind the careless quips.

He didn’t know how it was possible, but Denny recognized him in that moment as the Pirate Howard deGacy. He had been caught and tried and was supposed to hang in the United States several years ago. Somehow he’d escaped but his longtime pirating buddy ‘Don’ Pedro Gilbert, with whom he’d pillaged and plundered up and down the Florida Straits had been hanged for piracy in Boston, Massachusetts six years ago.

“For the record, what is your name?” the judge asked him.

“Percy Humbridge, your honor.”

Howard deGacy was famous for offering up phony names, and this time was no exception.

Denny leaned in to Ebba and said, “He’s lying. I know his real name. If I offer it up to the court, will it help my own case?”

“We could try,” she said. She got to her feet, raising a hand. “Your honor, if it pleases the court, my client has information about this prisoner. He can testify to the fact that this man is lying about his name.”

“Who says so?” Howard deGacy shot to his feet and stared down at Denny with pure hatred in his eyes. “You,” he snarled. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“That’s what they all say,” Denny responded, giving deGacy his best, most disarming smile.

Chapter Six

The rain stopped at dawn and the sudden break in its relentless rhythm awakened Merritt, who roused himself from sleep. He peered outside. The faint light of day beckoned him. He picked up every object before him, careful to wrap the black candle in the packaging from his sandwich. Merritt put everything in his pockets, except his wax-filled shoes. The strange magic Gremma and Fortunata had cast to keep Merritt locked in a perpetual cycle of sleep and despair angered him. He picked up the shoes and, outside the cave, took a deep breath.

He loved the natural world and the land hummed to him. He was regaining his senses bit by bit. He walked down the mountain and found a spot under a yew tree. He used one of the shoes to dig a hole and whispered a few words of an old incantation and the sodden earth dried up long enough for him to dig without the mud sloshing back in again.

Things are coming back to me. Things I thought I’d forgotten. Things I didn’t realize had been stolen from me.

He dug faster now, eager to break the spell. Yew had protective qualities, and two feet down, he buried one of the shoes. Farther down the slope, he found another yew and buried the second one.

Leaning on his haunches for a moment, he realized he didn’t feel different, even though he’d broken the curse. Actually, he did feel different. He wasn’t perpetually sleepy. Even with little sleep in the cave he felt alive, vibrant. It was a wonderful feeling. Covered in mud now, he kept moving down the mountain, more cheerful than he’d been in months.

Wait. Has it been months? How long ago did we leave Denny’s ship? Sometimes it feels like forever, other times it feels recent.
He knew he’d have to start reading his sister’s mind to figure out what was really going on. He was in such a good mood, he’d walked a mile before he realized it. And he reached the blacksmith’s forge. He was surprised to see it shuttered. Even in such awful weather there was always the need for Smitty’s exquisite workmanship. He turned out everything from tools and weapons to horseshoes and cooking pots. The need for these things never stopped.

Even his house seemed empty.

“What do you want?” a raspy voice came from behind when Merritt peered through the front windows. He turned, but couldn’t see Smitty at first.

“Down ’ere,” the raspy voice went on, and Merritt looked down to find the blacksmith leaning against a tree trunk, a cup of tea in his hand. “You don’t want to know how long it took me to make this.” Smitty glowered as he held up his cup. “I can’t even make fire anymore! I had to bribe one of my wee kiddies into making a fire, and they’re not supposed to do that.” He slurped at his tea. “Fine cup of tea, though. Can I interest you in one?”

Merritt hesitated. He sensed every awful thing that had happened to the poor man and wanted to put him out of his misery and move on to Fortunata’s next unfortunate victim, but on the other hand, he wanted an ally in Smitty. And he longed for something warm.

“I would enjoy that, thank you.”

“It’s a chipped cup, and I’m sorry about that, but we’ve few to spare. I’ve had to sell off everything just to survive. I have no tools left, and my striker—do you know young Walter?” Before Merritt could respond, Smitty barreled on, “Well, he developed a strange case of warts all over his body and boils on his bottom.”

Oh no. That sounds like Fortunata’s handiwork.

“And he was no longer able to help me produce tools.” Smitty looked devastated. “It caused him untold agony to lift the sledgehammer. He had to quit, and I sold the sledgehammer, too.” He poured Merritt his tea then handed him the cup.

“What happened to you?” Merritt asked.

“That witch. Gremma. She put a spell on me. That’s what she did. She turned me into a bleedin’ fairy, then that Gremma laughed. Everyone knows fairies are allergic to iron. Why did she do that to me?” Poor Smitty looked confused.

“You’ve been cursed,” Merritt said.

“I know that. I’ve got wings. Wings, for Lord’s sake. Whoever heard of a gnome with wings? Do you see them?” His voice rose, and Merritt nodded.

“Aye, I see your wings.” They were big and black and hairy, and sort of matched the thick thatch of hair atop Smitty’s head. He was tall for a gnome, but then he was part human and ogre as well. What had he done to displease Fortunata? Merritt tried to read Smitty’s mind but Smitty was too busy thinking angry thoughts about Gremma.

“I knew Gremma had been banished from the palace, for what reasons I was never clear, but she’s lived happily among us all here in the forest. Never had a cross word with her. Suddenly she’s stomping around my house uninvited and muttering something weird. And have you seen her face lately?” He winced.

Merritt saw it all unspooling in his mind.
Oh, boy
. Time was of the essence.

“She cursed you by stealing this.” Merritt reached into his pocket and extracted the small iron dagger he’d found on Gremma’s altar. “I’ve removed the hex on it, but you are going to have to bury this someplace far and deep from here.
”