Briar Queen (37 page)

“To make sure you get through this safely.” He unfolded one hand and the dragonfly key glimmered on his palm. “And to retrieve Thomas Luneht. You don't need him anymore, but I still do.” He rose gracefully. “Before your capricious and prosaic paramour returns, I'll go to another car. Oh, and, Miss Sullivan.” He leaned down to whisper, “Don't look at your sister when this train passes through the darkness into the true world.”

Finn sucked in a breath and glanced at Lily. Her sister was gazing broodingly out the window. Finn didn't think she'd heard.

The Black Scissors was already striding away, his coat swirling as he opened the rusting door to another car and stepped through.

Lily murmured, “What did that slinky socio just whisper in your ear?”

Finn breathed out. “Lily. Just how do you know the Black—”

The light outside the windows became darkness.

A gut-wrenching pain doubled Finn over, as if the elixir was rebelling inside of her. She reached out and grasped Lily's hand as night swept through the train. Lily's grip was painful, but Finn didn't dare let go, even as she hunched over and retched so violently she slid to her knees. She realized she could no longer see in the dark—the elixir was fading from her, which meant the train was leaving the Ghostlands behind. Closing her eyes and still clutching her sister's hand, she whispered, “Lily, are you still there?”

Her sister didn't answer. Her grip on Finn's hand was still painfully tight, and the blackness around Finn had become suffocating. As the train sped onward in the dark, and the hand clenching hers began to dig nails into her flesh, it became harder to resist looking.

She
had
to look, to see that Lily was still with her, or all the horror and risk, the death, had been for nothing. Her voice left her in shivers, “
Lily . . .
you need to answer me. Please.
Please
say something.”

The temperature in the car dropped. A funereal fragrance of lilies drifted through the air and she was convinced that whatever sat there, holding her hand, was only
pretending
to be her sister and had become a
thing
now that they had left the Ghostlands. Had she been tricked again? Slowly, she lifted her gaze to what sat there, glimpsed white skin, the curl of a mouth—

“Finn.” Jack slid from the darkness. He carried a small lantern that glowed with electric light. “We're almost there.”

Still holding the cold, clenching hand of whatever sat next to her, Finn whispered, “Jack, is Lily there? Please make sure it's her . . .”

“Finn—”

“Finn?”

Finn heard Lily's voice before the pain churning through her sent her plummeting into the dark.

THE CLATTERING MOTION OF THE TRAIN WOKE FINN.
She opened her eyes, winced at the sunlight, and found herself in the seat beside Lily, who slept, her sneakered feet tucked beneath her, her hair pulled away from her face. Opposite, Moth also napped. Finn turned her head and gazed out the window at the snowy landscape dappled with the brilliant light of day. She saw cars and restaurants, power lines and concrete . . .

“Coffee?”

She looked up at Jack and smiled. “Thanks.” She accepted the paper cup of coffee, inhaled its fragrance. “We're not on a Fata train anymore, are we?”

“No.” He stepped back as a businessman brushed past. Across the aisle, a kid with a nose ring was listening to an iPod. A woman behind them was talking on a red cell phone. “Our phantom train kind of blended with a real one.”

“Jack. It's
day
. We left at midnight—”

“It's eight thirty, Saturday, the morning after. We'll get you home in forty minutes and sneak you back in your room before your dad even wakes up.”

She reached out to brush the hair from her sleeping sister's face, reassuring herself once again that Lily was real. She smiled and savored the sunlight on her skin. “That'll have to do. Where's Leander?”

Jack sank into the seat opposite her, next to Moth, and hunched forward. “Unlike me, Leander's still all Jack. He's not here anymore. It's daylight.” He smiled ruefully. “It's a good thing Sylph Dragonfly's spell remained with me for all those wounds in the Ghostlands, because my body is a bit confused. If I suddenly blink out of existence, don't be alarmed.”

She didn't understand at first. Her eyes widened when she did. “Leander's not here? You mean, he doesn't exist in the day? That can't . . . that's . . .” She frowned. “So, as Jacks, you and Leander, in the day, become . . . nothing?”

“That's right. Finn, Leander will find himself wherever he wished to be before he went away. We've gotten Lily Rose back and we'll deal with what comes afterwards, just as we've dealt with everything before that.”

“Together,” she whispered fiercely. She didn't want to ask any more about Leander. She'd never really thought of Jack
not-existing,
even when he'd once vanished in her arms as dawn cascaded into her room.

She sank back in her seat, drank bad coffee, and watched the magic of sunlight touch everything around her, including Jack.

Their life stood full at blessed noon;

I, only I, had passed away:

“Tomorrow and today,” they cried;

I was of yesterday
.

                
—“A
T
H
OME
,” C
HRISTINA
R
OSSETTI

L
ily didn't ask about Leander's disappearance. When she woke, she stared around in amazement. As they stepped from the train into the crowded terminal, Finn watched her sister move hesitantly, avoiding pools of sunlight.

“Finn!”

Finn laughed breathlessly when she saw Christie and Sylvie, accompanied by Jane Emory, pushing through the crowds. Her eyes burned with tears as she met them in a big, jumbled hug.

Jane stepped back—and saw Lily. Christie and Sylvie slowly turned from Finn and also stared. Jane whispered, “Is that—”

“I'm Lily.” Lily jutted her chin.

“You're just like Finn said.” Sylvie was wide-eyed, as if meeting a celebrity. “I'm Sylvie. This is Christie. That's Jane.”

As Jane and Lily gazed warily at each other, Jack spoke. “We need to separate. Jane, if you'll take me, Moth, and Lily, Finn can go home with Sylvie and Christopher.”

“Like hell—” Lily began.

“You can't go home,” Jack gently told her. “It's too dangerous. We need to keep you away from the obvious places.”

“It won't be for long.” Finn glanced at Jane. “How did you know we were coming here?”

“The Black Scissors told me.” Jane was watching Lily. “I was leaving Lulu's Emporium after we got that damn key unhexed and Rowan had gone through to the Ghostlands, when the Black Scissors appeared and told me you'd be here today, that he was going to meet you on the train. He's damn unnerving—where is he?”

Jack leveled one of those stern looks on Finn that always made her feel like young King Arthur being scolded by Merlin. Finn shrugged. “The Black Scissors was just checking up on us. I don't know where he is.”

Moth tilted his head back in annoyance. Jack frowned at Lily as if he knew she had secrets. Sylvie spoke up: “Where's Leander?”

As Jack explained, Lily moved to Finn and embraced her with willowy strength. Finn gripped her older sister, her best friend, as if letting go would cause her to evaporate. “You were always the brave one,” Lily whispered. Then she stepped back and addressed Jack and Moth. “Let's go, boys.”

“You girls might need these.” Jane handed a pair of sunglasses to Finn, one to Lily.

“Perfect.” Lily put them on against the sun she hadn't seen for a year. She walked into a pool of light and spun.

Jane turned to Jack. “Where, exactly, am I taking you, Jack?”

“My place,” he told her. “Thank you, Jane.” He moved to Finn and bent his head, spoke gently. “Go home. Rest. I'll be the only one who knows where Lily is. I'll be the only one taking her to where we agreed she should stay. Meet me and Moth at Max's Diner at five, with Christopher and Sylvie, and we'll go to Tirnagoth together. Hopefully, Leander will show up when the sun sets.”

He kissed her as if she was the last bit of warmth in the world and he was slowly freezing to death. She resisted clutching at him as if she were a child. When he drew back, he lifted the phoenix pendant from beneath his shirt. “I still have this and your ring. My talismans.”

She tugged the lionheart locket he'd given her from beneath the neckline of her dress. “I still have this.”

“That's my girl.” He kissed her one more time, stealing her breath, before striding after Moth and Lily.

Finn found Jane watching her with bright eyes. “You want to hug me again, don't you?”

Jane stepped forward and did just that, and Finn, who had thought it would be awkward, closed her eyes and, for an instant, guiltily remembered her mother.

When Jane stepped away and followed Jack, Finn, repressing a giddy urge to linger in the sunlight, looked around. She loved the sight of so many people. She savored the stray aromas of fast food and car exhaust and coffee. She said to Sylvie and Christie, “It doesn't feel real.”

“Finn . . .” Sylvie looked as if she was going to cry. “Jack didn't have a shadow.”

“I know. Take me home.”

AS CHRISTIE DROVE HIS MUSTANG
down the oak-lined road to Finn's home, Finn bit down on her bottom lip and felt her eyes sting. This was the house where she and Lily would be sisters again. All the horrors of the Ghostlands began to dim . . . the terrible deaths of Atheno and Hester . . . phantom Reiko . . . Seth Lot's savage and seductive promises . . .

Then Finn saw the sporty red car parked behind her da's SUV and her stomach twisted up. Christie clenched his hands on the steering wheel. “Is that Professor Avaline's car?”

Finn pulled her backpack into her lap. “It's not what you think. She's not my da's type.”

“
Call
me.” Sylvie and Christie said at the same time, as Finn slid from the Mustang, her boots stomping on ice-crusted snow.

“I'll tell you everything when we meet at Max's Diner.” She strode up the shoveled path to the front porch.

She slipped into the hall, sloughed her coat, and set her backpack down quietly. She could hear voices in the parlor—her father's and Sophia Avaline's. She stood a moment, absorbing the idea that she was home. With a wrenching pang, she suddenly craved pot roast, a strawberry milk shake, chocolate. What had Lily eaten in that otherworld? Fairy cakes and Goblin fruit and the meat of fantastical beasts?

She moved down the hall and peered into the parlor, where she saw her father
hunched on the sectional, hands clasped. Seated on the love seat opposite was Professor Avaline in a little black coat and high-heeled boots. She looked up, directly at Finn, who stepped in with a forced smile. “Da. I stayed at Sylvie's—Oh, hello, Professor Avaline.”

“Finn. We need to talk.” Her da seemed weary, and afraid. Finn frowned at Avaline, who moved to her feet as Finn's father stood and said, “Thank you, Sophia.”

“I'm sorry, Sean.” Avaline walked toward Finn.

“
What did you tell him?
” Finn whispered as she passed.

Professor Avaline spoke so that only Finn could hear. “You should never have been allowed to go where you went. I think it's Jane Emory you should be wary of, Miss Sullivan.”

“Did you tell him everyth—”

“Speak to your father, Serafina.” Avaline walked to the door. As it closed behind her, Sean Sullivan said, “The power went out last night. I went to check on you.” He lifted a folded piece of paper from the coffee table. “I found your letter. And this.” He held up Lily Rose's journal. The desperation in his voice scared her. “What is this, Finn? Fairies and boggarts and Lily
being stolen away
?”

“Da, it's not what you think.”

“I thought it was just college, the move . . . I'm
losing
you, Finn, and I feel there's nothing I can do—”

“Da. The Fatas—”

He blinked as if he'd been struck and said, “What?”

“The Fatas—”

“Finn.” Almost distractedly, he set down Lily's journal and the folded letter. “I'm sorry. I'm working so much.” He ruffled a hand through his hair and sat, scanning the other papers on the coffee table before shoving aside his open laptop. “I've completely blanked—what were we talking about?”

Finn said faintly, “The letter?”

“I'm sorry. What letter?” He began rummaging among the papers and books. “Damn. I lost my train of thought.”

She approached the coffee table and picked up her letter and Lily's journal. “You were saying how I'd left some of my stuff with yours—are you
writing
again?”

“I am.” He smiled ruefully. “You're up early on a Saturday.”

Clutching Lily's journal and the letter she'd left her da, Finn watched her father succumb, unawares, to a spell—most adults never acknowledged the Fatas' existence because they couldn't. It was a disturbing thing to witness. “Da—why was Professor Avaline here?”

“She was telling me about Jack. She disapproves of Jack. I told her it was none of her business.”

“Okay. Well.” Finn backed out of the parlor even though she wanted to hug him—that would seem odd, as, to him, she hadn't been away for a week, only a few hours. “Thanks for trusting me.”

She turned, grabbed her backpack, and loped up the stairs.

Her room was cold and dusty despite the sunlight drifting through the gossamer curtains. All her things—the butterflies and moths in shadow boxes, her mother's watercolors of strange and whimsical figures, the Leonor Fini print, the Cheshire Cat clock—none of it seemed to belong to
her
anymore, but to an entirely different girl.

She sank to the floor, pressing a hand over her mouth. Everything was falling apart: her father's memory; Jack becoming less human; the Wolf ready to break into this world for revenge. But Lily was alive. Lily had stood in the sunlight and hadn't faded away.

A book slid from the shelves, flew across the room, and struck a shadow box on the wall. She flinched. Both book and box fell, the shadow box's glass breaking over the white moth inside. As the pages of the book rustled, Finn reached for it, pulled it toward her. She squinted down at Lewis Carroll's
Through the Looking-Glass,
at an illustration of Alice sitting between the Red Queen and the White Queen, each of them crowned like a chess piece. She glanced at the shattered glass, the moth, the book. What was the mysterious entity trying to tell her? Just knowing it wasn't Lily made the hair rise on the back of her neck. Who else could it be . . . ?

“Oh,” she breathed, looking up. “
Gran Rose?
”

CHRISTIE ARRIVED IN THE LATE AFTERNOON,
ten minutes after she called. When she flung the glass doors open, he hugged her like a kid. She obligingly put her arms around him, patted his back. “There, there. We already did this.”

He stepped back, worry shadowing his eyes. “The Wolf isn't dead, is he?”

“No.” She snatched up a coat and put on Jane Emory's sunglasses; the light was still bothering her. She tucked the vials of
Tamasgi'po
and elixir in one pocket. “Avaline told my da that Jack is bad news. My da found Lily Rose's journal and a letter I left in case I didn't return. He thought I was going crazy.”

“What?”

“The minute I mentioned the Fatas, my da forgot what we were talking about.” She grabbed her backpack.

Christie followed her onto the terrace and shut the doors behind them. “Why would Avaline tell your dad bad things about Jack? And aren't you
tired
?”

She shrugged and stomped down the snow-crusted stairs. “Not really. I'm worried about my da's brain being rewired every time the word
Fata
is brought up. Weren't you covered with ink scrawls last time I saw you?”

He looked rueful. “They faded.
Will
you slow down?” He strode quickly to keep up with her. “I understand your dad's memory loss is distressing, but I'm a little more concerned about when the Big Bad Wolf is coming back to town.”

“I think Phouka and the Black Scissors expected Jack and me to murder the Wolf. Their plan didn't work.”

“Well, of course it didn't. That wasn't the reason you went there—you went to get your sister. Don't you think it's
their
turn to fight the bad guy? Let them do it. Finn, before Sylv and I got out of fairyland, you were being dragged away by a monster tree-ghoul that had been pretending to be your sister. You know how messed up we were? At least Phouka had the decency to tell us you were safe after you got to Cruithnear's.”

“I'm sorry. I really am.”

“
Are
they going to help?”

“It's daylight, so Phouka doesn't exist at the moment. And I don't know where the Black Scissors is. Rowan Cruithnear is still in the Ghostlands, and Avaline just stabbed me in the back.”

“Oh. So nothing new.” He hesitated, then asked, “Why do you think Sylv and I weren't replaced by our doubles?”

“I was told you and Sylvie weren't taken because you were flawed and protected.”

“Flaw—oh. I was born hearing impaired. They would think that was a flaw. Jerks.”

Her eyes widened. “You're so—”

“Eloquent? What can I say? I was a fast learner.” He continued with a shrug, “So
I
was the flawed part. Sylv must be the protected part. She's got a Finnish Laplander dad and a mom who was raised Shinto. Knowing that our doubles exist, though—that's a door that I could have happily kept closed. When I saw that guy . . . it was like someone walked over my grave.”