A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (4 page)

I felt around the door until I found the carved button that unlocked it. I pushed and heard a faint click, and then wedged my fingers under the edge. I pulled, but I couldn’t budge it. I imagined Ezekiel’s cries and my heart rate rose with every imagined shriek.

“I’m coming!” I yelled through the door, knowing he probably couldn’t hear me. And even if he could, it wouldn’t make him stop crying.

I flew back up into the air and looked for a window on the side that might be open. I found it near the bottom. One of the windows for a storage room lay cracked open. I wedged myself through the opening. But as soon as I did, I found myself in completely unfamiliar surroundings. In Grandma Vi’s time the storeroom was filled with plants and medicines. Now it contained musical instruments of every conceivable type and most of them were smashed to bits. The door to the hall was still recognizable and I picked my way across the room over broken cellos and punctured drums to the door in the floor. I stomped on the door and it flew open. Ezekiel’s screams rushed into the storeroom, although to me they were more like frantic whispers.

I dropped to my knees and peered over the edge of the door into the hall. “Ezekiel! Ezekiel!”

The screaming paused and started again slightly louder than before. Ezekiel wasn’t very old, just over a year. Like all wood fairies, he could comprehend language at birth, but wouldn’t be able to speak until he was two or three years old.

“I’m coming!” I yelled into the darkness. The Zamoras’ side of the mantel was darker than ours. Barely a sliver of light found its way in. I kept looking into the dark, hoping I’d be able to make out more than just dim shapes, but nothing became clearer. It stayed dark. I would have to drop into the darkness and hope for the best. Unless I did the one thing wood fairies weren’t supposed to be able to do. It didn’t seem fair that the one magical gift I had was the one that would make my mother cry.

I could make fire. Not a good thing if you live in wood, plus kindling was notoriously hard to control. My dad always said kindlers couldn’t be trusted, so I’d hidden my so-called gift since I was eight. I’d been on the verge of telling Grandma Vi when she died. She was the one person I knew wouldn’t mind.

I leaned down into the darkness and tried once more see Ezekiel, but it was no use. I had to do it or I might break my legs and that wouldn’t help anyone. Besides, the baby wouldn’t be able to tell on me for at least a year and by then I’d have figured out a way to break it to Mom and Dad.

I put my hand into the darkness, ignoring Ezekiel’s screams, and concentrated on my palm. I’d practiced some, but since the idea of burning down the mantel terrified me, I didn’t have much experience. I took a deep breath and blew onto my palm. For a second, nothing happened and then a tiny blue flame ignited right in the center. I blew again and it grew, flickering and flirty, tickling my hand and making me grin. The flame grew to the size of a large ball, sending its light around the corners of the hallway.

“I did it!” I cried.

Ezekiel’s screaming got even louder than before and I imagined his little throat was raw and burning by now. I lay down on my stomach with my chest balanced on the door frame and my lighted hand extended down into the hall. Shattered remnants of pictures and a hall table littered the wall that now served as a floor. I saw no sign of Ezekiel, though his screams were slightly more clear.

“Mrs. Zamora! Mrs. Zamora!” I yelled.

There was no answer, not even a tiny whispery one. Seeing the way was clear for me to jump, I closed my fist and extinguished the blue flame in my palm. As the hall went black, Ezekiel’s screaming began to have a keening quality, like he was beginning to despair. I felt the weight of his fear and loneliness in my chest. Then he stopped crying and that was worse.

“I’m coming, baby,” I called, but he didn’t start crying again. Maybe he didn’t believe me. Maybe he thought I would go and leave him like his parents, but I wouldn’t. I would never do that.

I grabbed onto the door frame, swung over the edge, and dropped into the darkness, landing painfully on my knees. The hall seemed darker now that I was down in it. Without Ezekiel’s voice to guide me, it was heavy and oppressive, like being covered in a thick blanket and not being able to get out from under it. I held out my hand and blew on my palm. The flame appeared quicker and brighter than before. It sent wavy shadows around the hall and I almost wished I hadn’t made it. The shadows were rather creepy. I reminded myself that light was necessary to find Ezekiel and I got to my feet. I wished I could hear Iris and Gerald next door. If my ears had been normal, I would’ve had their voices to comfort me. But my ears were practically useless. I couldn’t even hear Ezekiel breathing, which would’ve been a comfort, too.

“Ezekiel. Ezekiel,” I called. “Where are you?”

I picked my way through the darkness, avoiding furniture and broken glass until I came to an open door. I stuck my hand down through the doorway and saw him. Ezekiel was against the opposite wall, pinned underneath the remains of his crib. His black hair curled down low over his forehead, nearly covering his brown eyes which usually matched his skin. But now he looked pale to me and a bit grayish. When he saw me, he took his fat fist out of his mouth and held it out to me.

“I found you,” I said. The baby blinked and started squalling again. “All right. All right. I’m coming.”

I put out the flame, which made Ezekiel squall louder, and dropped into the room next to him. I relit the flame and touched his face with my other hand.

“Quiet down. You’re hurting my ears and they don’t work so well in the first place.”

Ezekiel stuck his fist back in his mouth and began making sucking noises. His big eyes kept going back and forth between the flame and my face. He knew what I was. There was no mistaking it. I ran my free hand over him. He appeared to be all right, despite having a crib on top of him. I lifted the railing and braced it with my hip, and then held the fire far out away from the baby and slid him out from under the crib by his foot. Then I got down on my painful knees, pulled him onto my hip, and struggled to my feet.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about me, are you?” I asked.

He looked me in the eyes and gave me a slow blink. I’m pretty sure that meant he agreed not to rat me out.

“Okay. We have to get out of here,” I said to the baby. He looked back at me with wide brown eyes and sucked harder on his fist.

I picked my way across the ruined nursery to a window. It was shut tight and there was a smear of blood on the frame. It must’ve been from Mrs. Zamora, since Easy wasn’t bleeding. I rammed the window with my shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

“Great,” I said. “It can’t ever be easy.”

What should I do? Put down the baby or put out the light? Neither seemed a good option. The wall began to shake beneath us. A little bit of dust fell onto my face from a shelf still attached to the wall above my head and made me sneeze. Ezekiel sneezed, too, as the wall shook harder.

“Oh, no. What now?” I put Ezekiel down and extinguished my light. I rammed my palms against the window as the wall jumped and I fell on my knees. Ezekiel began shrieking again, but I couldn’t stop to tend him. My hands felt their way up the wall and fumbled for the lock. I found it and felt a click. “Come on. Come on.” I pushed against the window and it gave a bit. The light made me blink. Then the mantel shifted again and threw me against the wall. I picked up the baby and looked out the window. A human’s hand was resting on the side of the truck and he was probably talking. Oh, to have normal ears. I clutched Ezekiel tight to my chest and stuck my leg out the window. My toe touched another cream-colored wheel well and I pulled us both out of the window.

Across the bed of the truck were a couple of red-faced humans coming towards the truck with a load of crown molding in their hands. I gasped when I saw it and I’m not a big gasper. My friends Sadie and Ursula lived in the crown molding. It looked like all of Whipplethorn was being torn apart. My only consolation was that Sadie and Ursula weren’t home. They were out berry-picking with their parents. I pushed the thought of them out of my mind and spread my wings. I tried to take off, but Ezekiel’s weight was too much for my aching wings. The humans went around to the back of the truck and placed the molding in behind the mantel with a lot of other moldings that hadn’t been there before.

“Let’s go,” one said. “This is enough for one trip.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive,” replied the other.

Drive, I thought. Then I slapped my forehead. Trucks were for going places. The humans were taking the mantel away from Whipplethorn. I jumped for the mantel and managed to pull myself and Ezekiel up onto the top. I ran across the face of the mantel toward the storeroom as the humans slammed the truck doors and the machine rumbled to life.

“Iris,” I screamed. “Get out! Get out!”

I didn’t know if Iris heard me or how she would get out if she did. I only knew she had to escape, or we’d be taken away, away from Whipplethorn and everything we knew.

CHAPTER 3

I leapt off the side of the mantel onto the wheel well. The truck lurched forward and I fell, clutching Ezekiel to my chest. I threw my arm out and my fingers caught a brace on the side of the truck bed. As I held on, I saw the storeroom window cover shaking. Iris must’ve been ramming herself against the wood. I couldn’t imagine Gerald doing any such thing. I crawled across the wheel well to the window to see my sister’s terrified face peeking around the edge.

“Get out!” I shouted.

“I can’t!” Iris shouted back.

“Get one of Daddy’s axes!”

“I couldn’t find one!” Iris rammed herself against the cover again.

The truck picked up speed and the wind blew Ezekiel and me a couple of inches away from the storeroom window. The truck went over a bump and we hung in the air for a moment. A gust came and blew us farther away.

Iris stuck her hand through the opening in the window. “Come back in,” she yelled.

I fought the rising wind as I scampered across the wheel well. Another gust and we’d be gone. Iris couldn’t get out, so I had no choice but to go back in. I made it to the window and grabbed Iris’s hand. I pulled myself close to the opening and used my body to thrust Ezekiel through.

“Take him!” I yelled.

Iris let go of my hand and took the baby. I tried to get a grip on the window frame, but a gust came and swept me away. I tumbled through the air, bits of dust and debris buffeting me, getting in my eyes and scratching my skin. I shut my eyes tight until I hit something with my hip. The sharp pain made me open my eyes and I saw the truck gate speeding toward me. I spread my wings and managed to miss it. Then I was out of the truck, behind it, in a swirl of choking dust.

“Iris!” I yelled, gagging on the dirt that coated my mouth.

I beat my wings to fight the air currents and steady myself. Then I flew straight up, out of the truck’s wake and into the calm air above. I flew, extending and beating my wings hard to keep up. The truck surged ahead, but I managed to match it. I may not have had good hearing, but there was nothing wrong with my wings. It almost felt good up there in the bright sunlight, stretching my wings to their full potential. I rarely got to fly fast. There was usually no call for it, and Mom disapproved. She feared I’d sprain my wings, even though Grandma Vi pointed out numerous times that sprains were rare and didn’t amount to much when they did happen. I did feel a pain across my shoulders, but it was a good kind of pain. It made me feel strong, like I could do anything.

The truck slowed down to make a turn and I dove. I flattened my wings against my body and zipped through the air like a dart. I flipped my feet down at the last second to land by the window just before the truck picked up speed again.

“Matilda,” yelled Iris.

I touched the window edge and Iris grabbed my wrists and hauled me inside, scraping my shoulder and tearing the puffed sleeve of the shirt under my jumper. We tumbled to the floor and lay for a moment, gasping.

“Wow,” I said.

Iris buried her face in my shoulder. “I thought you were gone.”

“No way. Not a chance,” I said. “I’d never leave you.”

Iris started weeping, little sobs of relief. Behind that gentle sound came a not-so-gentle sound. An angry rant rattled the wardrobe. Gerald. Dear Lord, I’d forgotten all about him. Ezekiel sat near the wardrobe, staring at it with his fist in his mouth. He had a look of utter distaste on his little face. Apparently, even babies didn’t like Gerald.

I rubbed Iris’s shoulders and took the key from her. I went to the wardrobe, took a deep breath, and turned the large wooden key in the lock. The door sprang open and Gerald burst out of the wardrobe. His face was a strange kind of purplish-red and he sputtered with rage, practically incoherent. I scooped up Ezekiel, who was wagging his finger at Gerald and looking quite disapproving.

“Now Gerald, I had to do it,” I said as I backed up. “I’m your babysitter. I couldn’t let you run off.”

“I’ll kill you. I’ll pull off your wings and beat you with them.” Gerald stalked toward me with his hands curved into two claws, sharp and furious.

I put out my hand and caught him by the forehead before he could strike me. I held him at arm’s length while he sputtered and swung at me.

Iris came around from behind me, tisking and wagging her finger at Gerald, like Ezekiel. “Gerald, you look so silly. Is that any way for a genius to behave?” Iris sounded just like her teacher Miss Molly when she was lecturing Gerald on one of his many misdeeds. Miss Molly had a way of handling Gerald, which was probably why Mr. Thomas let him skip two grades so she could deal with him.

Gerald dropped his hands and backed away. “I am not silly,” he said. Even as he spoke, he gave the impression of puffing up like one of those weird tropical fish I’d seen in a book.

“That’s right. Geniuses are never silly,” I said, thinking that they weren’t very much fun either.

“I am a genius, you know,” said Gerald. “Everyone says so.”

“Well,” I said. “You’re something all right.”