The Torn Wing (9 page)

“Then what happened?” Tiki sat in a chair before the fire, alternating between trying to make sense of all she’d learned and trying not to think about any of it.

Toots lifted his head. “Well…. that part was a bit strange. One minute we were standing on the street and the next we were in a big meadow with the horses.”

He turned round green eyes toward Tiki. The freckles splattered across his nose stood out brightly against his pale skin. “I don’t know how we got there. Didn’t really look like any of the parks around here.” He shrugged, his skinny shoulders lifting the thin material of his shirt. “But it was sunny and warm, and they let me pet the horses.”

His brows knotted in confusion. “It’s a bit hard to keep it all straight now. But after awhile this Dain chap came by and asked me if I wanted to ride. He let me ride behind him on the great white horse and we rode like the wind.”

“Is that when he brought you back here?”

Toots grinned from ear to ear. “Eventually.”

“I told you it was Dain.” Clara chimed in from where she was threading a string through two pieces of shiny fabric. “He talked to me when he brought Toots home.”

“Nobody talked to me,” Fiona snapped. “Or took me to ride a horse—” she glared at Toots— “that could fly.” She moved a red checker piece with a grumpy look on her face.

“There,” Clara said with satisfaction. “My faerie wings are ready now.” In one deft movement she swung the string over her head and positioned the shiny fabric over her back. “Tiki, watch me fly,” she cried as she held her arms out from her sides and ran around the room.

“Clara, watch it! You’re going to bust our game up.” Toots waved the little girl out of the way as she neared their spot on the floor.

“No I won’t,” Clara said. “I’ll fly right over the top of you.”

“Clara—stop!” Fi said.

Tiki sensed disaster as the little girl headed straight for the older children.

“Clara, come back towards me, so I can see your beautiful wings shining as you fly,” Tiki called. With a mischievous grin the little girl banked her arms at the last minute and made a sweeping turn and headed back toward Tiki.

“Toots and Fi saw me because I had my glamour on,” Clara whispered as she came closer to Tiki. “I
let
them see me.”

Tiki thought she was going to faint. “Your
what
?” she exclaimed.

“Shhh.” Clara put a finger to her lips and frowned at Tiki. “You don’t want to make people supicous.”

Tiki drew a deep breath. “Do you mean suspicious?”

Clara brightened. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Did you hear that word somewhere?”

“Oh yes, Dain told me.”

“I see.” Tiki wasn’t sure what to think about the little girl’s shocking comment. “It seems Dain told you lots of things. Did he tell you about glamours?”

Clara nodded with a proud smile. “Yes, when he was explainin’ how Toots can see those boys ‘e plays stickball with.” She placed a small hand on Tiki’s knee and looked up at her with innocent blue eyes. “He said it’s just like playin’ dress-up.” She giggled. “An’ sometimes, he said even grow’in ups play.”

Tiki’s stomach heaved. How could one of those horrible creatures have been talking to Clara and she hadn’t known? She lifted the little girl up onto her lap. Clara turned sideways and snuggled close as Tiki wrapped her arms around the child. Tiki’s heart pounded as she forced the words out of her mouth.

“What else did you talk about?”

“Oh, he asked me about Rieker.”

Tiki inhaled sharply. “He did?”

“Um-hmm. He called him William, though. Wanted to know if he was ‘round often.” Clara looked up at Tiki, her blond waves falling back, her little face glowing. “I tol’ ‘im you were best mates.” She grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

Tiki kissed the little girl’s forehead and ran her hand over her silky hair. “If you see Dain again, you need to come find me, all right?”

“All right, Teek.”

“And don’t tell him anything else about Rieker. Let’s keep it our secret.”

“I can keep a secret,” Clara said in her sweet, innocent voice.

“Good girl,” Tiki whispered. Another faerie too close to them. What did this one want? Was he after the ring? A spy for Donegal? Working with Larkin? There was no way to know for sure. Toots had returned home safe this time, but what about the next? And the next after that?

Tiki closed her eyes and fought the urge to squeeze Clara as tight as she could. She would do anything to keep Rieker, Clara and her family safe. Anything.

LATER THAT NIGHT Tiki lay in bed and stared into the darkness while Larkin’s words replayed over and over in her mind:
I suppose that makes me your aunt. Soon there won’t be anything left to save. You’re Finn MacLochlan’s daughter.
She shivered with a chill no blanket could ever warm. To think she might be
related
to that creature— Tiki couldn’t finish the thought. She punched her pillow and rolled on her side, trying to ignore the worry that had become her constant companion. Rieker still hadn’t returned.

Chapter Twelve

T
iki slept in the next morning. She’d laid awake deep into the night thinking about all that she’d learned and what it meant for the future. She awoke to the sound of Clara’s giggles in the hallway. Tinkly notes of laughter were punctuated by loud
shush’s
from Toots, followed by more giggles.

She smiled as she listened to the merriment coming through the door. Her smile faded though, as she thought again of Larkin, of the secrets she’d revealed. What was the truth? Tiki didn’t want to admit it, but the faerie had even made her doubt Rieker. They’d barely had time to discuss Larkin’s visit before Rieker had disappeared himself.

Tiki’s idea that she could just avoid the fey had faded. It seemed apparent now that she was part of whatever grander scheme Larkin had devised. Unable to stay still, Tiki shoved the blankets aside and sat up. If Rieker was right and understanding the meaning of her birthmark would give her some ability to protect her family, then that was what she needed to know.

As soon as she moved, the door to her bedroom swung open. Clara and Toots came scurrying in, making her suspect they’d been watching through the crack, waiting for her to get up.

“Tiki,” Clara called. She clutched Doggie in one hand. “Yer finally up. We’ve been waiting
forever
.”

“Yeah Teek.” Toots hair was brushed back and his face as clean as she’d ever seen it, making Tiki wonder if Mrs. Bosworth had taken a scrub brush to him. “We thought you might be dead.”

“Alive and well, as you can see.” Tiki sat back on the bed and patted the covers for them to join her. With giggles of glee Clara and Toots bounded onto the mattress next to her. “What is so important you need to wake me from my beauty sleep?” She squinted toward the door. “And where is Fiona?”

“Fiona’s got a gent’man caller,” Clara whispered in a hurried rush. “That’s what we’ve been waitin’ to tell you.”

Tiki’s mouth dropped open. “A what?”

“He’s a very ‘andsome young man,” Clara said in a voice that was a spot-on imitation of Mrs. Bosworth. “He even brought her a rose.”

Tiki looked at Toots. “What do you know about this?”

Toots shrugged, his overly-innocent expression making him look guilty. “His name’s Johnny. He’s a bloke I know from Charing Cross.” He held out his hands to Tiki. “But I swear I don’t know how he met Fi, or how he found out where we live.”

TIKI WALKED DOWN the stairs with an uneasiness churning in her chest. Where could Fiona have met a young gentleman? She straightened her back as she entered the small parlor, not sure what to expect.

Fiona was seated in a chair by the fire. Her pale skin glowed with a faint blush and even from the doorway Tiki could see how her eyes sparkled. She was wearing a dress of pale blue that was a lovely contrast to her creamy skin. These last few months had transformed the young girl. A boy’s back was to the door, a mop of tousled dark hair crowning his head. At the sound of Tiki’s arrival he jumped to his feet and turned toward her.

Tiki blinked in surprise. It was the boy who had stolen her bag in Charing Cross.

“What are
you
doing here?” The words exploded out of her mouth.

“Tiki.” Fiona jumped to her feet. “This is—”

“Johnny Michael Francis O’Keefe, Miss.” He bobbed his head, his cap clutched in his hands. His face had a boy-like charm to it, but Tiki didn’t miss the hollows under his cheeks and the way his second-hand clothes hung on this thin frame.

“Johnny O’Keefe?” Tiki eyes narrowed. “Also known as Johnny the Thief? I’ve heard of you before.”

Johnny tugged the lapels of his rumpled, threadbare jacket straight. A nervous smile creased his lips revealing teeth that were surprisingly clean. “I swear I don’ know where you heard such a thing as that.” He waved a hand in her direction and cleared his throat. “Being the lady you are, an’ all.”

Fiona snickered, then guiltily raised a long-stemmed red rose to her nose to hide her smile. Tiki chose to ignore her. Johnny the Thief had quite a name among the pickpockets who worked the streets of London. Not only for his quick hands—but also for his close escapes. There’d been more than one tale of Johnny eluding the bobbies by the seat of his threadbare pants.

“It doesn’t matter where I’ve heard it. We’ve met before—at Charing Cross.” Tiki wasn’t smiling now. “I believe you stole my bag.”

Johnny’s cheeks turned red. “About that…” He turned his crumpled cap in his hands and shuffled feet that looked too big for his lanky body. “I only did it because the blond lady promised me a quid. She was the one who told me to lead you to that little room.” He held his hands out from his sides and his face twisted in a look of disgust. “But in the end, it wasn’t even worth it because I lost the bloody money. Put it my pocket and found a dead leaf there later.”

Tiki frowned at his mention of the blond lady. “What did this woman say to you?”

Johnny shrugged. “I don’ know. She just came up and offered me a quid. Showed me the little room with the back door then pointed out you two fine-looking ladies.”

Fiona blushed, and Tiki didn’t miss the pleased expression on her face. Tiki threaded her hands together, still standing stiffly erect. “How exactly did you find out where we lived?”

“Oh, that part was easy. I just followed you home.” Johnny gave her an endearing grin. “Then I waited for a chance to talk to Miss Fiona.”

Tiki’s stomach twisted at the thought that they were being followed by Johnny and hadn’t even noticed. Who else could have been following them? She would need to be more alert in the future. But right now Fiona’s face was bright with excitement for the first time in a long time. Tiki tapped her thumbs together, trying to make a decision as she eyed the painfully thin boy. Finally she heaved a sigh. It hadn’t been long enough since their fortunes had changed that Tiki had forgotten what it felt like to be hungry all the time. “Have you had breakfast?”

SHAMUS JOINED THEM at the table as it was Saturday and pulled a chair up next to their guest as they nipped into platters of sausage gravy over biscuits. In typical fashion, Mrs. Bosworth had cooked enough for everyone to have seconds, so there was plenty for an extra mouth.

Tiki cut a bite of gravy-soaked biscuit listening to Fiona and Toots chattering on while Johnny practically inhaled his food. “Where are your parents?” she finally asked.

Johnny paused with a bite halfway to his mouth. “Debtor’s prison.” His voice held little emotion. Tiki noticed he handled a fork with practiced ease and swallowed his food before he spoke. “Didn’t see m’self living in that place so I set about my own business.” He elbowed Toots. “Went to Charing Cross and met a few blokes in the trade.” He took another big bite of food and swallowed. “I’ve done all right for m’self so far.” He grinned. “Not dead or in prison yet.”

“I see.” Tiki moved the food on her plate around, her appetite suddenly diminished. There were so many children who were orphaned or living on their own. The conditions in the slums of London, as well as the workhouses, were hardly fit for an animal, let alone a young boy on his own. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen this summer.” He shoved another bite into his mouth.

Tiki looked around the table. All of them were orphans. Fiona’s mother, a seamstress, had been beaten to death by her employer. Her cousin, Shamus, had been on his own since his father, a mudlarker, had died in a drunken brawl in a pub. Tiki had found Toots in Trafalgar Square after his mother had kicked him out of the house at age nine because she had too many other children to feed. Clara had been curled up in a pile of garbage on a side road near Charing Cross where Tiki had almost tripped over her. She’d brought them both home and now they were a family.

“I met him over in Covent Garden,” Toots said around a mouthful of food, nodding at Johnny. “He was pickin’ pockets at the market, just like we used to do.” Toots swallowed and took another big bite, oblivious to the stares suddenly directed his way.

Johnny’s mouth froze mid-bite and his gaze went from Toots to Tiki then back to Toots again, a question in his eyes. “What’d you say?”