Unthinkable (4 page)

house. She had been standing there for several minutes.
Her throat was dry and her palms were sweating. Here she
was, back in the human realm after all these years. She had
dreamed of this in her early years of captivity. That was a
long time ago, though. Now she was in a world she did not
recognize.

How had she ended up tasked with destruction instead
of in her grave? This was not what she had intended. But
here she was and she would do it. She would destroy her
family’s safety. She had her choice of how. She would find
something to do that wasn’t too bad. After all, it wasn’t like
she had to murder anybody. She didn’t even have to listen to
Ryland’s ideas; his own sister had called him cruel and cal

lous. The queen had only wanted to get rid of him, Fenella
thought. She had not really believed he would be of valuable
assistance to Fenella.

She thrust her chin out determinedly, dismissing the
subject of Queen Kethalia’s motivations. She needed to focus on her tasks.

Now. This was the house where her family lived. Lucy.
Lucy’s mother, Miranda. Lucy’s foster parents. Lucy’s young
husband. And—and—

And it was a beautiful morning in late September. The
front garden of the house displayed a scattering of dandelions amid grass, a few bushes, and patches of bare earth.
An odd little vehicle, pink with three wheels and with the
word Playskool on its side, lay overturned on the front
porch of the house. There was a large oak tree to Fenella’s
right, and many other trees around the neighborhood as
well, maple and willow and more oak, none of the trees
very old. The leaves of the nearby maple were beginning
to turn.

Fenella wondered whether the trees would be friendly.
She put a hand out to touch the oak. Nothing—oh, of
course. These trees were not fey.

Are you going to stand there all day long? This is a small
cage I’m trapped in, and I would like to be out of it. Go up
those stairs. Move into your new home already.

“Shut up, Ryland,” she said to the cat. “I don’t trust you,
and I don’t have to listen to you.”
I plan to help you, said the cat, with exaggerated patience.
In fact, I’m being forced to help you. You’d be stupid not to
take advantage. I want this to end successfully every bit as
much as you do.
Fenella snorted. “Only because it’s in your own interest.”
Whose interest should it be in? And here you claim to be
a realist.
She didn’t answer.
He was right about her next move, she thought. She did
need to walk up those stairs to the door of that house. Instead, she looked down at her unfamiliar clothes. Queen
Kethalia had given her a soft white cotton shirt and a white
hooded sweatshirt, and a skirt that was frankly wondrous.
It was deep green as a summer leaf, and long to her calves.
It swung pleasurably at the hem, and had a comfortable
stretchiness woven into the fabric. One percent spandex,
Ryland had told her, in her head, authoritatively.
“What’s spandex?”
He hadn’t answered. Instead: Tell my sister you need ballet
flats. Pale pink. Not those sneaker things.
Fenella had ignored the fashion advice. But now she
looked around and understood at least why shoes were a
necessity. Much of the ground in the human realm was
covered with a smooth, hard surface that would hurt the
soles of bare feet. The ground in this place was also covered with houses, and everywhere you looked, there were
vehicles that operated artificially, without horses or donkeys, which was—rather fascinating. All she had really
known of machinery, in the old days, was the watermill
that Robert’s parents ran, and it had been a long time since
she had allowed herself to think of those days.
Go up the stairs, Ryland said with irritation. One foot at
a time. Then do something called “ringing the bell.” It’s not a
real bell. You push a button. It makes a noise that summons
the people within.
Fenella would have, she absolutely would have, because
there was no sense in running away. But suddenly from
within the house came the muffled but unmistakable sound
of a child’s demanding screech.
The baby. Who would not be such a baby. Eighteen
months? Nineteen?
Fenella dropped the cat carrier. It landed with a thud on
the ground.
The cat said something nasty as the house’s front door
opened and a young woman with short, dark hair catapulted onto the front porch
“I have to go right now or I’ll miss my bus,” she called
back over her shoulder. “Listen, Zach, ask Mrs. Spencer
about taking care of Dawn next Wednesday, okay?” The
young woman hefted a backpack onto her shoulders and
sprinted down the house steps and onto the walk. She went
past Fenella, mumbling, “Sorry, excuse me.”
Lucy Scarborough, I suppose, commented the cat.
Fenella knew who it was. Her heart had taken on a rapid
rhythm. “Her name is Lucy Scarborough Greenfield now,”
she murmured.
She watched Lucy’s back until the girl turned the corner. Then Fenella remained quite still, looking at the empty
street and feeling her heart thud with—something.
Ten seconds later, Lucy reappeared. She stared in Fenella’s direction. It was too far away to see her expression.
Involuntarily, Fenella stepped away from the cat carrier. She felt she couldn’t breathe. She raised one hand in
an uncertain gesture, reaching out, pulling back. She took
another step forward. Confusion filled her. Then numbness.
Then terror. Terror, even though she had honestly believed she could never fear anything again.
Lucy began walking back rapidly.
“Shut up, Ryland,” Fenella whispered to the cat, even
though he hadn’t said anything.
Then Lucy was in front of her, close enough to touch. Her
gaze straight into Fenella’s eyes was intelligent, and clear—
and amazed. She was several inches taller than Fenella.
“I went right by you,” Lucy said. “But I could feel you
watching me, and  .  .  . I had to turn. Then—I knew you.
Even from the end of the street, I knew you.” She paused.
“Fenella? Fenella Scarborough? It is you?”
Fenella clutched the back of her own neck beneath her
red hair. She managed a nod.
“Are you real?” Lucy touched Fenella gently, tentatively,
on the upper arm.
Fenella didn’t think about what to do. Her body knew.
She put her hand on top of Lucy’s. “I’m real.” Her voice
came out choked.
“How?” Lucy’s gaze was intense. “How can you be here?”
“The fey.” Fenella remembered some of the things the
queen had advised her to say, and she got one of them out
past the obstruction in her throat. “They let me go.”
“Like Miranda was let go?” Lucy asked. “Free to live out
the remainder of her life?”
Fenella nodded. “I—yes.”
“But what about all the others? If you’re here, then maybe,
could they all be alive again somehow, or . . .?”
“No,” said Fenella steadily. It was a relief to find her way
to saying true things. “They died each in turn, in their time,
according to the curse, every eighteen years. They are at
peace. It’s just me who—who kept on living forever.” She
paused and added, “Until now.”
“It’s a miracle. Oh, my God. They gave you your life
back!”
The cat meowed plaintively.
Lucy looked down. Ryland pushed his soft little face
against the wire mesh of the door and blinked at her with
gorgeous eyes.
“So, this cat,” Fenella said colorlessly. “Someone gave him
to me while I was on my way here. I—I want to keep him.”
If Lucy found it strange that Fenella had been ejected
from Faerie and made it her first order of business to adopt
a cat, she didn’t say so. She squatted. “I don’t know if I’ve
ever seen a cat with markings like that before. Adorable.”
She extended a finger inside the wire mesh and stroked the
cat’s head.
The cat purred.
They will all love me, he said arrogantly to Fenella. Watch.
I’m going to be ever so sweet. He pushed his head against the
mesh toward Lucy’s hand.
“Boy or girl?” asked Lucy. “Name?”
“Boy. Ryland,” said Fenella, full of hate for the cat. And
then for herself. She pressed her hands together. She wet her
lips. “Lucy?”
“Yes?” Lucy looked up.
Fenella reached for her rehearsed words. “I have come to
visit you. I hope—that is, I hope it is all right that I’ve come.”
She added in a rush: “I didn’t know where else to go.” She
discovered she could no longer look in Lucy’s face.
Lucy said, “Oh, Fenella. Of course this is where you
should be. There’s no question.”
Fenella forced out more words. “My cat . . . ?”
“We’ll make room for him too.”
Lucy jumped up. She fell upon Fenella, hugging her, enveloping her. “I don’t believe you’re here, but you are. Just
wait until Zach sees you—and Miranda! I’ve been worried
about Miranda, but maybe it will help her to see you. And
you haven’t ever met my parents. My foster parents, I mean.
You’ll love them.”
It was too easy. Fenella felt sick. She wanted to pull away,
but Lucy had her cheek on Fenella’s hair, and her arms were
tight.
“And my baby, Dawn—you were there when Dawn was
born. You appeared to us when the curse was broken. I will
never forget it, or you. Of course you’re welcome!”
The child. How could she live in a house with the little
girl, how? She pulled away from Lucy.
“I’m sorry.” Lucy put one hand up to cover her mouth. “I
wasn’t thinking. Maybe you don’t like to be touched?”
“It’s all right.” Fenella looked down. “I was only—this is
all strange for me.”
“I understand. Fenella? Listen. We don’t know each other,
but I’m your family. We all are, here. We know more about
you than you probably realize. Miranda talks about you. She
says you kept her steady for those eighteen years she was
trapped in Faerie with you . . . and with him.” Lucy’s pause
was almost imperceptible. “She says you told her never to
give up hope, never to stop trying to help me figure out the
curse. And never to stop loving me, even when she was here
in the human realm trying to communicate with me and
I—well, you know. I was horrible to Miranda sometimes.”
“It’s all right,” said Fenella. “Miranda understood what
you were feeling. So did I. Anyway, that’s over. It’s over because of you, Lucy.” The memory swept through Fenella of
how it had felt when Lucy and Zach defeated Padraig. The
rush of gratitude, the huge relief. The love and joy.
It had not lasted, not for Fenella, not when she discovered
her personal ordeal would continue in a different form. But
that moment had still been real. Lucy had broken the Scarborough Curse. She had saved herself, and her baby, and
her mother, Miranda.
Lucy was moving her shoulders awkwardly. “I was lucky.
I had help. Zach, and my parents.”
“I know,” said Fenella. “But all the same, you were glorious, Lucy. Glorious.”
They were quiet for a moment. “Well,” Lucy said at last.
“Obviously I’m not going to my class this morning. Let’s go
inside. You have to meet everyone.” She held out her hand
for a second, before letting her arm fall back to her side
when Fenella did not take it.
Fenella discovered that even with Lucy beside her, she
needed to stand on the sidewalk in front of the house for
another minute, just breathing.
She had figured out that the pink toy on the front porch
must belong to the child.
Lucy was patient. Miraculously, so was the cat. At last
Fenella reached for the cat carrier.
“Wait,” Lucy said. “Can we leave your cat outside? On the
porch? The thing is, we have a dog. We’ll have to go slow.”
No, said Ryland instantly. You need me with you.
“Yes, fine,” said Fenella to Lucy. “Let’s leave him outside.”

ily crammed around her in the kitchen. They stared and
talked and marveled and fussed. Several of them mentioned
places they were supposed to be: jobs, school. But then they
pulled out little communication devices and gave notice
that they would be late, or were not going today. After that
they looked at Fenella as if they thought their staying with
her would make her happy.

They
were happy. A little alarmed, a little anxious, but
genuinely glad to see Fenella. The Scarborough-MarkowitzGreenfield family was accustomed to fantastical events.
They could take it in stride when a woman showed up,
claiming to be their relative released from captivity in Faerie after hundreds of years.