Brightly (Flicker #2) (9 page)

“Shut up, Rod.”

“I’m simply—”

“I
said
, shut up.”

“Testy, are we?” Rodney snickered.

Filo didn’t say anything, just squeezed his eyes shut and held the smoke in his lungs. If he sat very still, he could feel the humming warmth of the pixie grass starting to seep into his blood, like honey rolling through his veins. He’d forgotten how good this felt: warm and light and peaceful, infinitely better than sitting in the apartment and slowly winding himself tighter than a clock.

At length, he asked Rodney, “Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“About them having other apprentices. You hear things, Rod. You hear practically everything. Did you know?”

“Not that, no.”

“Would you have told me, if you had?”

“Yes.”

Filo cracked one eye open and peered at Rodney. “Are you lying?”

He considered it. “I don’t think so,” he said finally. “I think I would’ve told you.”

“That’s good.” Filo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just never thought of it. I mean, I knew they had a life outside of Flicker. They had to, with all the time they were gone. But I never thought they had others like us. I should’ve, though. I should’ve thought of that. Right?”

Rodney shrugged. “Who could tell with those two? Not me, certainly. I never spent much time around your old masters. In fact, I’ve always made a point of keeping out of their way. So has everyone else who’s known what’s good for them, except maybe Conall. That man fears nothing. He’s an old one, you know.”

“One of Tuatha de Danann,” Filo said, attempting to blow a smoke ring and failing. “Yeah, I know.”

What had Neman said to him the last time he saw her?
It has been so long since we have stood upon the soil of our homeland, or held Court with the old lords under the ground.
Those were Conall’s people, great masters of magic, the ancestors of the Daoine Sidhe who now ruled the Faerie Courts. To hold Court with them…. Just who were Neman and Morgan?

“You shouldn’t speak so lightly,” Rodney chided. “Conall is probably the only match for your masters in many miles, including some of the local Sidhe lords. I doubt anyone else in this city would’ve dared to shelter a girl those two bore a grudge against, even if they
did
surrender their claim to her—and remember how readily he took Alice in.”

“I don’t remember that,” Filo said crisply. In fact, he hadn’t even known that Alice was working for Conall until last fall. She’d kept that from him for a year.

Before Alice left Flicker, there were no secrets between them. Now Filo couldn’t help but wonder what else she might’ve kept from him while she was away, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. It was easier that way. Less painful.

“How well did you know them, anyway?” Filo asked abruptly. “Neman and Morgan.”

“Me? Oh, I hardly knew them at all,” Rodney said. “In the years they frequented this city, I think we bumped into each other twice. Briefly. Of course, there were a few times before Bridgestone.… But that was well before your time.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”

Rodney’s eyes gleamed, like he’d just remembered something funny. “No, I don’t.”

Chapter Five:

When the red van rumbled to a stop in front of Flicker, it was just after seven o’clock. The five of them had been waiting in the shop for half an hour, not speaking much, just fussing with the zippers on their bags. Lee’s gaze kept roving around the shop, trying to memorize everything. It might be a long while before she saw any of it again.

Through the wide glass window at the front of the shop, Lee watched one of the van’s side doors slide open. Clementine hopped out onto the sidewalk, dressed in a T-shirt and jean shorts, her hair pulled into a ponytail that bounced with each movement of her head. The bells above the shop door rang merrily as Clementine pushed open the door. She didn’t step inside, just held the door open with one hand.

“I could guess what you decided,” she said, eyeing their bags. “Or you could tell me.”

“Neither,” Filo replied. “But feel free to tell us how we’re getting to wherever the hell you people live.”

Clementine smiled faintly. “Road trip.”

The van didn’t have a backseat, just a flat, beige-carpeted cargo area. With their bags trundled into the back, Lee, Nasser, Alice and Jason found that there was just enough room for them to pile in, too.

Filo seemed to be taking his time locking the front door. As Lee nestled herself between Nasser and a duffle bag, she saw him lift his gaze to the wooden sign that hung above the door.

“Filo?” Alice called gently.

“Coming.” He held back for just a moment more. Then he squared his shoulders, strode to the van and climbed inside.

Clementine hauled the door shut behind him and trotted around to the front. She opened the passenger-side door, clambered over Davis and settled herself in the center seat. Henry was driving.

The back of the van was dim and stifling, as the air conditioning didn’t work, and Lee silently lamented that her amber charm only seemed to work outdoors. With no windows on either side, the van felt like a rumbling box on wheels.

“We have to sail to Siren Island,” Henry said, pulling away from the curb. “The boat’s moored in Seattle, so that’s where we’re headed.”

“How long will it take to get there?” Alice asked. Her voice was flat, with no hint of friendliness.

“It’s a seven-hour drive,” Lee reported, remembering the weekend trip she’d taken to Seattle with her mom while Lee was fourteen. It was the farthest she’d ever been from home.

She remembered the city, even bigger and grander than Bridgestone. In her mind’s eye, Lee could still see the two of them pacing slowly through the art museum and navigating the crowd-choked cobbles of Pike Place Market.

That weekend with her mom seemed so long ago. Untouchable, like another life. Lee’s heart clenched as she remembered that, in a way, it was. The years spooled out in her mind like a mess of yarn that she couldn’t untangle.

Davis glanced over his shoulder with a thin, nervous smile. “Henry drives like a maniac. It’ll be more like five.”

“How comforting,” Lee answered, her voice hollow. She laced her fingers together in her lap as the van rounded a corner and she left yet another home behind.

The islands rose like emeralds, vibrant and thrumming with activity. It was summer, tourist season, and all sorts of boats were out on the water: cruisers, yachts, ferries crowded with camera-wielding passengers. Lee stood on the deck beside Nasser, doing her best to ignore the rolling motion of
Eudora
, the cabin cruiser they’d boarded in Seattle.

Jason stepped out of the shadow of the cabin and onto the deck, narrowing his eyes against the light as he approached his brother. “Nasser!”

The other boy pulled his gaze from the water. “Yeah?”

“Davis has been pointing out the different islands we pass. I asked him about that one.” Jason pointed to a distant landmass. “You know what he said?”

“What?”

“It’s not an island. It’s
Canada
,” Jason said, grinning. “Our home and native land!”

“Is it really?” Shading his eyes with one hand, Nasser squinted at the landmass. “Huh.”

Jason’s smile shrank slightly. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just been a while. Eight years.”

“Time flies.”

“I was just thinking that it feels like longer than that. A lot longer.” His expression was thoughtful, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.

She touched his arm. “You okay?”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I forget how
close
it is. The border’s just a few hours away from Bridgestone. We could probably glamour some passports and go back anytime we wanted to. But we won’t.”

“Why not?”

Jason shrugged. “It’s been too long. Everything’s different now. You change, and before you know it, you can’t go back.” He looked at Lee with somber eyes. “You don’t feel different when you go back to Bluewood?”

Lee thought of her visits with Kendall. The town looked more or less the same as it had when she’d lived there. Visually, it was the place that existed in her memory, the place where she’d grown up. But she knew better. Bluewood looked the same, but it felt different—or maybe Lee was the one who felt different, those missing seven years hanging over her, and newfound magic swirling in her blood.

Whether she was walking the streets or sitting in Kendall’s living room, she felt slightly on-edge. If she passed a stranger on the sidewalk, or a place she used to frequent, she felt a sudden rush of nerves, her skin prickling. Some part of her was always waiting for her
otherness
to be called out. Maybe she always would be.

She met Jason’s gaze. “When I go to Bluewood, I feel like another species.”

“Then you know what we mean,” Jason replied.

They stood on the deck in silence, watching the water slip past.

Eventually, another island appeared on the horizon. Even from a distance, it was a little gem, covered in dark evergreens. Henry didn’t steer them past this island; instead, he turned the boat toward it and circled around toward the other side.

The boat passed beneath the shadow of a cliff and a patch of rocky shoreline where squawking seabirds soared over the rocks.
Eudora
rounded into a bay, where a floating dock jutted from an empty beach.

After Henry guided
Eudora
to the dock, he was the first off the boat, followed by Davis and Clementine, who helped him tie and anchor it. The others gathered their belongings and climbed down onto the dock.

Even as Filo stepped onto the sand, he looked queasy. Lee knew he’d been miserable during the voyage—not just seasick, but magic-sick. Running water washed magic away; even heavy rain could make spell-casting nearly impossible. Salt water was even more powerful, excellent for purging magic and breaking its hold. The sea disrupted the flow of all their magic, but it clearly hit Filo hardest.

The beach was unmarked by footprints. It was beautiful, Lee thought, but there was something isolated and wild about this place. Still, it was a mild relief to be on solid ground again.

Above the empty stretch of beach, the trees were dense and dark, as if guarding some secret. The only break in the trees was a narrow path that disappeared into the woods. Lee shifted one bag in her hand, thinking of the woods outside of Bluewood, the woods that were full of faeries. What lurked in these trees?

“This way.” Clementine started toward the path. She started up the shadowy trail without hesitation, and the others followed her.

Somehow, the forest was less threatening when Lee was surrounded by it. Winding up the trail of hard-packed earth, she marveled at the trees, which glowed green as shafts of sunlight ducked among their branches. She could hear the island all around her—wind, birdsong, the distant rush of water down at the beach—and she could smell the tang of evergreens and earth.

When they reached a fork in the trail, Henry pointed toward the path on the right, which dipped downward.

“Most of the houses are that way,” he said. “Down by Gilbert Beach—along the waterfront, and just into the woods. A couple of people live on the other side of the island, but those houses are empty right now. Our house is this way.” He indicated the other trail, which cut a narrow path through the vegetation, sloping upward into the trees.

They followed him in silence. Wildflowers and mushrooms crowded along the edges of the path, and Lee’s hands itched for her sketchbook.

After several minutes of uphill hiking, the path leveled out. They emerged into a field where a brisk wind bent the tall grass, carrying with it the sharp scent of the sea. Beyond it was the edge of the cliff beneath which the boat had passed.

Near the middle of the field was a house: two stories, with a wraparound porch, painted a stormy blue-gray. On the roof was a weathervane shaped like a mermaid, her arms outstretched, as though reaching for something. Two large trees nestled close to the house; behind it, Lee noticed a large shed and a garden surrounded by a chicken-wire fence.

Next to the footpath leading up to the dwelling, a worn wooden sign hung from a post. One word was carved into the wood: BRIGHTLY. She lingered near the sign.

“The Brightly family was one of the first to settle on this island,” Henry called, making her look up. He’d stopped walking and was looking at her. “Way back in the 1800s. Magical folk. The Sight ran in their family. They were hired for their skills—potion-making, spell-casting, mediation between faeries and humans.”

Clementine nodded. “The Brightlys did basically everything you guys do back in Bridgestone. People came from miles around to hire them. Actually, this house was sort of like your Flicker. To get here, people had to dock in Brightly Bay, where we just came from. Then they came up to the Brightly house. After a while, people just started calling this place Brightly.”