The Faery Keepers (12 page)

             
“What do you mean it’s already divided?” I cut him off.

             
“There are four courts. Seelie, Unseelie, Summer, and Winter. The Winter and Unseelie courts you’ll want to steer clear of. They make what Chrysantha did to you look like child’s play. More so the Unseelie Court, though. The Winter Court has its good days. Well, correction, good
moments
. Unpredictable as a winter storm the whole lot of them.”

             
My mind wheels. Surely they couldn’t be worse than what I’ve already been through.

             
“Can I continue?”

             
“Go on,” I mumble.

             
“When she realized this, I was sent to collect you. Who better than a mortal boy to gather up two mortal girls and bring them to her? Send a Faery and you would be suspicious since you have the Sight to an extent.  Already, I knew what she had in mind. It’s not hard to guess her intentions. When someone lives for centuries they become predictable. So I formulated a plan. I would go through with it to her eyes. Then, when she was done questioning you I would sneak into your quarters and free you.

             
“I only meant for her to
question
you. She has a more macabre way of getting through to people. If it hadn’t been for
Lucas
stopping me I would have made it in time. I cannot stress how sorry I am about that.”

             
He pauses to catch his breath for a second.  A thought occurs to me then.

             
“Why weren’t
you
poisoned?” I direct at Maggie for the first time in a while. She looks taken aback at the question but quickly recomposes herself.

             
“Well I
would
have been. But I, unlike you, did not trust the Faery food.”

             
“I didn’t either. Not completely.” I grimace. “Never again,” I vow.

             
This earns small, mirthless smiles from everyone in the room. I decide then that it wouldn’t kill me to sit down on the sofa. Strangely I’m still drained even though I’ve been sleeping for what seems like forever. Must be the after effects of the poison. Maggie punches me playfully on the shoulder.

             
“Why would you eat it, dork?”

             
“I was hungry,” I shrug as if it’s the simplest explanation in the world.

             
Maggie gives a derisive snort, “of course you were.”

             
“What?” I ask, staring at her.

             
“Oh, nothing,” she says evasively.

             
I decide to ignore the quip. Everyone seems to relax after that. Nyla bustles off through one of the wooden doors. From the sliver of what I see it appears to be a kitchen. Derek sits down on the far side of the couch since Maggie deliberately plops herself in the spot next to me. The put out expression on Derek’s face is absolutely comical. As the saying goes, losers weepers. A few minutes pass and Nyla returns carrying a tray laden with a silver teapot and four mix matched china cups. The one she hands me, full with steaming brown liquid, has tiny blue roses painted around its rim. I blow on it and take a sip, scalding my tongue anyways. It has a strong taste of mint and lemons, and a hint of apple. A good combination, I think. I warm my always freezing hands on the smooth outside of it, waiting for the contents to cool off more. Even in the middle of summer my hands always have a sort of chill to them. Maggie always jokes that I have “The Frosty Touch.” Like Frosty the Snowman. Ha-ha. Hilarious, Mags.

             
I give a start when I glance at the cup in Maggie’s hands. There’s an image of a fluffy pink cat painted on hers and I
swear
it just moved. Its miniscule mouth gaped open in a soundless
meow
, tail twitching to and fro. But when I look again, it’s still.
             
What the?
I stare at it for good measure.
Maybe it’ll do it again
, I think.

             
“Katie, you’re biting your nails again.”

             
“Hm? Oh.” I drop my hand, not realizing that I’d even removed it from my own cup. Maggie has this quirk for yelling at me whenever I do that. I’ve tried kicking the habit, but it always happens no matter what I do. Any manicurist would hate me. 

             
“Why are you staring at me?”

             
“No reason.” I’m surer and surer that it was my imagination with each passing moment that the pink fuzz ball refuses to move. Huh.

             
To my dismay, Derek is smiling at me with much amusement.

             
I raise my eyebrows at him.

             
“You saw it move didn’t you?”

             
“The cat? Yeah.”

             
“The cat?” Maggie asks, confused. Catching a sight of her cup she lifts it to eye level and scrutinizes the picture. “Why would it move? It’s
paint
,” she feels the need to point out.

             
“Nyla likes using her magic on day to day items . . . no matter how pointless. It’s pretty entertaining seeing people’s reactions. Especially yours.” He winks at me.

             
Ugh
. Why do boys have to be so
weird
?

             
“Uh. . . If you don’t mind my asking, when do we get to go home?” I ask, ready to be rid of this place and be back in my comfort zone. Back to where there is a drop of sanity left in the world, if there is any that is.

             
Derek looks crestfallen and gives a low sigh. “Oh alright. But why the hurry? I hope it isn’t because of magnificent ol’ me,” he waggles an eyebrow.

             
“I think you need to check your ego at the door, Der, because there is no way that fat ego of yours is going to fit in the Jeep. I don’t care how spacious it is. But, yes. Part of it, anyways.”

             
“
Humph
. You are no fun, Katie-Pie.”

             
“Ugh, get me out of here before I gag. I’ve had enough,” Maggie stands and moves towards the door that must lead to the outside world.

             
“Aww, don’t be like that.” Derek chuckles, following her. “Are you coming?” he directs at me since I haven’t moved yet. I’m too busy shuddering over the “Katie-Pie” comment. Seriously? What was up with this dude? Does he flirt with everyone, or something?

             
Players must play, and all. . . Derek was
definitely
in the game.

9. Home

We go back to Maggie’s place first. It seems as if very little time has
passed
. It was night when we left the tree and it was still pitch black outside before the curtains to the glass ceiling were drawn; now stars dot the sky but there is a smudge of red on the eastern horizon. Early morning.
Very
early morning to be exact. The dash in Derek’s Jeep reads just after 5 a.m.

             
As we ride I wonder if anyone has noticed our absence. Surely Parker has since we were supposed to have a sleep over there last night. What about his windows? Did he call the cops? Report us missing? Or has he not come back from wherever he went when Maggie kicked him out of his own, for lack of a better word, house? I hope it’s the latter of those or else we’re toast. Burnt, severely
overdone
, throw me in the waste basket, tossed out to the birds for
mid-morning
snack, toast.

             
Granted that’s a little melodramatic . . . but still. How exactly are we going to explain that
Faeries
broke in and kidnapped us? I’m sure we would be committed immediately. So that option is out of the question. But what are we supposed to say in lieu of the truth? No one would believe the truth. So, we would have to lie. I hate lying.

             
“Hey, Derek?” I ask as he’s putting the car in park in front of the apartment complex.

             
“Hmm?” he turns in his seat towards me.

             
“What are we going to say to Parker? We can’t very well tell him the truth.”

             
He looks confused. “Who’s Parker?”

             
“My brother, you idiot!” Maggie leans forward between the two front seats, intersecting us. I can’t see her face but I know by her rigid posture that she’s glaring at him.

             
“Sheesh, calm down,” Derek cringes, pulling at his shirt collar. “You need an alibi—”

             
“Oh, so we’re criminals now?” Maggie cuts in.

             
“Maggie, hush!” I tell her. She falls back to the back seat with a groan. “Will you come with us? Explain our disappearance?  Because I’ve got nothing and I’m a horrible liar.”

             
“I doubt you’ll need me,” he sighs. “But if you’d like me to, then I will.”

             
“Thanks.” I open my door.

             
Maggie hurries ahead of us while Derek keeps pace with me. Does he know nothing of personal boundaries?

             
I sigh. “Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”

             
“Ouch. That stings,” he holds a hand over his heart in mock horror.

             
“Oh, shut up.”

             
“I mean after all I’ve done for you, what I’m
doing
for you,” he gestures to the apartment building, “you’d think thanks would be in order. But nooo. No gratitude whatsoever.”

             
I stop. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

             
“And?” he prompts.

             
“And thank you.”

             
He smiles at me, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling.

             
“But let’s not make a habit of you saving my life,” I add. “Deal?”

             
“Sure thing.”

             
“Come on, we’d better catch up with Maggie before she glares a hole in your forehead.”

             
“Wait,” he catches me with a hand. “Did you really mean what you said before? About you being a horrible liar?”

             
“Yes,” I say slowly.

             
“You’re going to have to change that.”

             
“Why?”

             
He’s silent for a second. “Because . . . with
Faeries
if you want to save your neck you need to be a good liar. Especially if you want them to believe you’re innocent of something you did.”

             
“Oh and I suppose you know all about that,” I scowl.

             
“I
do
. And it’s saved your life along with others.” His eyes are sad. “You can’t be a greenhorn in this world. It’ll get people hurt. Or worse.”

             
“And you know that how?” I ask, hands on hips.

             
Anger paints his face. “You don’t know anything,” he glowers and stalks off after Maggie who’s already gone inside, leaving me alone to ponder what he meant by the “or worse.”

             
I wait a few beats and then I follow him.

             
When I reach Maggie’s apartment, I gape in wonder.

             
The far wall whose windows had been shattered, spreading bits of glass on the tan carpeting, were now no longer in pieces. Flat, smooth glass filled the gaps, not a scratch on them.

             
“What in the world? Am I imagining things or are those windows magically repaired? Because
I know
what I saw.
They were definitely broken. Why is no one answering me?”

             
Maggie is slumped on the sofa, head in her hands. But I swear she’s
smiling
.

             
“Maggie?”

             
She lets out an unhinged giggle. “It’s just so
perfect
.” She looks up at me. “Of course. Faery magic. Explains everything doesn’t it?” Her blue eyes are shining.

             
“Is she OK?” I ask Derek who’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed. The anger still hasn’t left his face.