Wayfarer (6 page)

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She walked toward him, still smiling. “Such a sweet boy,” she said, and with that she bent swiftly and pressed
her lips to his.

Her mouth was icy cold, and Timothy flinched away as though she had burned him. Veronica's brows arched. “You're stronger than I thought,” she said. “One might almost think you were…protected.”

Timothy rubbed his hand across his mouth, shaken. “Stop it,” he said hoarsely, though a part of him didn't want her to. “Get away from me.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, sounding amused. “Just as soon as I've taken all that lovely music you carry inside you. But don't worry, by the time I'm done, you won't even miss it.” And with that her long fingers curled around the back of his neck, nails stinging bloody crescents into his skin. Timothy yelped, but Veronica gripped him with inhuman strength, and though he struggled, he couldn't pull away….

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Timothy's backpack erupted, shooting socks and underwear in all directions. Suddenly there was another girl in the room with them, her hands shaping light and hurling it through the air. Veronica staggered back as the flash hit her, the brown tones melting away from her skin and her braids unfurling into a silky blonde crop that looked nothing like Miriam's at all. She cursed and fled, leaving the door open behind her.

Timothy sat up slowly, staring at the strange new girl. She was small but shapely, with a round face and brown curls tumbling about her shoulders. The light she had flung
at Veronica still glowed on his retinas when he blinked. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Linden,” she said, dropping to a crouch and looking up at him with earnest hazel eyes. “But never mind that just now. Can you move? We have to get out of here.”

It had been a long ride from Oakhaven. Hidden away in Timothy's pack, Linden could see nothing of the journey, and her heart had trembled at every unfamiliar noise she heard, every new smell that filtered in to her. This city was so
loud
—full of screeches and hisses and thumps, the blare of raucous music and the growling voices of more humans than she'd ever heard in her life. She had felt every jolt as Timothy walked, and when he'd swung the pack off his shoulders and let it drop onto the floor of the hostel, she'd had to clap her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking. It was a relief to finally be free.

And yet it was also terrifying. She was still learning to
use the magic the Queen had given her, and compared with the easy power of someone like Veronica her own skills seemed hopelessly puny. It had taken all her concentration to cast two glamours at once—one to make herself large and the other to startle the other faery away—and her head still ached from the effort. Nor had Linden ever taken human shape before, and standing so tall with no wings to balance her, she felt as though she might teeter over at any minute.

Meanwhile Timothy still sat motionless, staring at her. Of course he was in shock: He'd never seen her before, and here she'd popped up suddenly out of his backpack. But she had no time to explain, not now.

“Please,” she said. “We can't stay here, we have to get away before it's too late!” Snatching up his discarded pack, she stuffed his clothes back into it and tossed it against his chest. “Come on!”

“But…where did you come from?” Timothy said slowly.

“I'll tell you everything, I promise, but just come!” She pulled at his wrists, but he still wouldn't move. How could she get him to obey? In desperation she looked around—and saw the guitar case sitting by the door.

“Hey!” he protested as she snatched it up and ran with it.

Linden didn't look back, didn't hesitate. If he didn't come now, there was no hope for either of them. But the subtle herb fragrance of her fellow faeries was everywhere in this place, and she could only pray that when she reached the
end of the corridor she would find only humans there, and not Veronica or one of her allies.

She could hear Timothy pounding down the corridor behind her, shouting at her to stop; her plan had succeeded, but they were far from safe yet. Linden burst through the doorway and collided with a stranger on the other side, a young man with jutting cheekbones and feathery dark hair. He stumbled back, knocking into another boy who looked just like him, and she stammered out an apology before ducking past and looking around wildly for the exit.

Merciful Gardener, where was it? There seemed to be doors everywhere, and the scent of faery was stronger than ever. Would she never find her way out of this place? But then a whisper of cool air touched her cheek, and she caught a glimpse of starlight as another human came blowing and stamping in from outside. Linden plunged past him and threw her weight against the outer doors until the metal bar gave way and they flew open. Still dragging the guitar, she stumbled down the steps to the edge of the road and waited for Timothy to join her.

It was only a few seconds before he emerged, a tall figure silhouetted against the light. “Give me back my guitar,” he warned, stalking down the stairs with his hand outstretched. “Or I'll call the police.”

“You don't understand!” she pleaded with him, backing away. “You have to come with me! Now!”

“Don't listen to her, Timothy,” said Veronica's throaty
voice from the doorway. “She's a thief and a liar.” Her face softened as she walked out onto the step. “This has all been so confusing for you. I'm sorry. Why don't you come back inside with me, and we'll talk about it?”

Linden watched Timothy waver, his gaze shifting from her to Veronica and back again. The other faery's magical disguise was back in place, and her words were laced with enticement. Though Linden's head still throbbed from the spells she'd cast already, she knew what she had to do: She grabbed Timothy's hand, and willed him to see Veronica as she truly was.

One glimpse of the face behind the glamour, and he recoiled. No longer an enticing twin of the girl in his mother's photograph, but a pale, sharp-faced blonde whose beauty was far from human…

Linden handed the guitar case back to Timothy, a silent pledge of her good faith. If he didn't come with her now, he never would.

“Run,” she whispered. “Please.”

He ran.

 

“We need a place to hide,” Linden said breathlessly as the two of them dashed down the street. “Somewhere with lots of people, where she won't dare to try anything even if she finds us….”

Timothy barely heard her: His head was still reeling from all that had just happened to him. How could Veronica
have made herself look like Miriam, when in reality the two girls were nothing alike? What had she meant about taking his music, and how had Linden shown up so suddenly to rescue him? The guitar case thumped against his leg as he sprinted along, shivering. He'd left his jacket back at Sanctuary, but there was no way he was going to turn around and get it now.

“I can't see her anymore,” Linden said after a few minutes, slowing to a trot. “Maybe we've lost her, or else she's given up—”

“This way.” Timothy panted, grabbing her arm and yanking her beneath the glow of a fast-food restaurant sign. Through the window he could make out a scattering of diners and a boy in uniform mopping the tile. Not exactly
lots
of people, but it should be safe enough. Timothy tugged the door open and wrestled himself and his luggage inside.

He was leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath when he realized Linden was no longer with him. He turned to see her still standing on the sidewalk outside, her hands pressed helplessly to the glass.

Well?
he mouthed at her, beckoning, but she seemed unable to open the door or even find the handle. Frustrated, Timothy dropped his guitar and his backpack and pushed it wide for her. “Come on!”

Linden stumbled into the restaurant after him, looking ready to collapse. “I couldn't get in by myself,” she gasped. “Not until you invited me. That's never happened to me
before—it must be because I've got magic now. But that means
she
won't be able to come in here unless someone invites her, either.”

He wished she wouldn't keep talking nonsense; it made him nervous. Timothy shoved his baggage beneath the table and slid into one of the high-backed booths, keeping his head low so he wouldn't be visible from the street. Hesitantly Linden padded to join him.

“No shoes,” said the boy with the mop, pointing to Linden. “Can't serve you like that.”

“It's not her fault,” snapped Timothy. “Give us a minute.”

“It's all right,” said Linden. She reached behind her back and pulled out a pair of slippers that hadn't been there a second before. “I have some.”

She bent to put them on, while Timothy stared at her. The attendant shrugged, leaned his mop against the wall, and ambled behind the counter. “So what'll it be?”

Reluctantly, Timothy got up and took out his wallet. He paid for two Cokes and a large order of chips, while Linden edged into the booth and sat there looking around uncertainly, as though she'd never seen a restaurant before. Their food arrived; he carried the tray to the table and thumped it down between them. “All right. It's time you told me who you are. Where you came from. What happened back there—”

“I told you, my name is Linden,” she said. “I've been with you ever since you left Oakhaven.” She leaned forward
and added in a husky whisper, “I'm a faery.”

“A
what
?”

“A faery,” she repeated. “And so was that Veronica—only she's a bad one. Very bad.” She put a hand to her forehead as though it pained her, and the corners of her mouth pulled down. “I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself to you back at the House, but I didn't know if I could trust you yet. I was just working up the nerve when I realized you were going away, and then all I could think to do was hide in your pack and hope for the best.”

Timothy regarded her blankly for a moment. Then he jabbed the straw into his Coke and took a long, deliberate sip.

“You don't believe me!” Her face darkened with indignation. “How can you be so stubborn when you saw for yourself back there—”

“Saw what?” It had all happened so fast, he couldn't be sure what he'd seen. Maybe Veronica had drugged him, and he'd been hallucinating. Maybe she and this girl were a team, trying to trick him into saying he believed in faeries as part of some hidden-camera television show.

“Oh, this is impossible,” the girl said with a huff. She folded her arms and sat back, her brows an angry line. “How am I supposed to explain when you won't even believe the first thing I say?”

“Look,” said Timothy, trying to sound reasonable; there was no point upsetting her, especially if she was mentally
ill. “You got me away from…whatever Veronica was going to do to me, and I appreciate that. But Linden—” All at once he stopped.
“Linden,”
he breathed.

“What?”

“Paul and Peri. I overheard them talking about you last night, when they thought I was asleep. But if you really did come with me all the way from Oakhaven…” His mind flashed back to all the places he'd been since he left the house: the road to the village, the station, the train carriage. “Why didn't I notice you before?”

Linden's lips pursed. She leaned out into the aisle and looked around, as though to reassure herself that no one was watching. Then, quick as a blink, she disappeared.

Timothy jumped, heart jarring against his rib cage, and then he heard a high-pitched voice coming from around knee level, “Look under the table.”

Dry mouthed, he leaned sideways and peered under the table's edge to see a tiny version of Linden sitting across from him, balanced on the edge of the plastic seat. Spread out behind her back were a pair of delicate-looking translucent…
wings
?

“Have you seen enough now?” she demanded.

Numbly, Timothy nodded.

“Is anybody looking at us?”

He shook his head.

Immediately Linden flashed back into view on the other side of the table, human-sized and wingless again. She
looked tired but triumphant. “So now you
have
to believe me. Right?”

Timothy grabbed a forkful of chips, just to have something to do with his hands and his mouth while he struggled for composure. When he tried to speak again his voice sounded squeaky, and he had to clear his throat: “Do they know that you're a…er, I mean, Paul and Peri, if you know them, have they ever…”

“Of course they know,” said Linden. “The woman you call Peri—she used to be a faery herself.”

That was it, he was going insane. Timothy pushed his chips away. “I have to go.”

Linden caught his arm. “It's the truth, I swear. She started out as our Hunter, back when she was just a little older than me, and we called her Knife…well, we still call her that, actually, even though she's a human now and goes by her true name of Perianth instead. But anyway, she met Paul and they fell in love, and in the end Queen Amaryllis made her human so she could stay with him, but she had to promise to go on hunting food for us and protecting us from the crows as her part of the bargain. That's why she looked sad when you were talking about Uganda. She knows she can never travel, never even leave the Oakenwyld for more than an hour or two, so long as the rest of us need her.”

So she'd overheard their conversation at the dinner table as well? “How long have you been spying on me?” Timothy demanded.

A flush crept into Linden's cheeks. “Since you came to the House, off and on. I know I shouldn't have, but you were young like me, and I saw the way you looked at the Oak, and…” She played with her straw. “I wanted to find out more about you. What things you liked or needed, if there was anything that I might be able to offer you as a bargain…I had to know if there was any chance you might take me away with you when you left.”

Oh. He understood now—or thought he did. “The Oak is where you live?” he said. “You and your Queen and…the rest of you?”

She nodded.

That explained a lot, thought Timothy. He went on, “Okay, so you wanted to see some more of the world. I get that. But what about your parents? Aren't they going to be upset that you just took off with me?”

“Parents.” She ran the word around her tongue as though it were unfamiliar. “I don't have any parents.”

Whoops. He should have guessed she was an orphan, with those worn-looking clothes and tangled hair. That must be why Paul and Peri had been concerned about her. “Sorry,” he said.

“Why should you be?” Now she looked confused. “No one in the Oak has parents, because there aren't any male faeries. Knife is my foster mother—well, one of them, anyway. She looked after me when I first hatched.”

Hatched?
thought Timothy in disbelief, but Linden was
still talking: “But that's not the point. I didn't come with you because I wanted to see the world. I came with you to try and find more faeries. Because my people have lost their magic, and we need to get it back.”

 

Over the next few minutes Linden did her best to make Timothy understand about Jasmine and the spell she had cast on the Oakenfolk, and how vital it was that their people's magic be restored. “There are only a few of us left now,” she said, “and if it weren't for Knife and the Queen there'd be even fewer. We're so afraid of being eaten by crows and foxes that most of us won't set foot outside the Oak unless we have to. But now there's even more for us to worry about, because the Queen is dying—and though she gave me a half share of her power, I can't cast the glamours that protect the Oak nearly as well as she used to. We'll never be safe, or free, until
all
of us have our magic back.”