The Iron Daughter (15 page)

We blinked at each other for a second, before the sting from a killer-wasp faerie snapped me out of my daze. Flailing, I scrambled to my feet as the swarm buzzed around the strange girl as well. She yelped and swatted wildly, backing away.

“What is this?” she hissed, as Puck came up behind me and Ironhorse charged in, blowing flame. “Who the hell are you people? Oh, never mind! Run!” She darted past us, looking back once to shout “Hurry up, Nelson!” over her shoulder. I barely had time to wonder who Nelson was when a kid built like a linebacker barreled through us, somehow dodging Puck and Ironhorse, and pounded after the girl. I caught a glimpse of gorillalike shoulders, muddy blond hair, and skin as green as swamp water. He clutched a backpack in his arms like a football and charged down the trail without a backward glance.

“Who were they?” I asked, over the buzzing of the swarm and my own frantic flailing.

“No time,” Puck said, slapping at a faery on his neck. “Ow! Dammit, we have to get out of here! Come on!”

We had started down the path again when a roar shook the air ahead of us, causing the swarm of killer fey to freeze in midair. It came again, guttural and savage, as something rattled the wall of thorns, coming toward us with the sound of snapping wood. I sensed hundreds of creatures in the brambles fleeing for their lives.

The faeries scattered. Buzzing in terror, they vanished into the hedge, through cracks and tiny spaces between the thorns. In seconds, the whole swarm had disappeared. I peered through the branches and saw something coming down the trail, ripping through the wall of thorns like it wasn't there. Something black and scaly, and much, much bigger than the spider.

Is that what I think it is?

“Thiiiief!” roared a deep, inhuman voice, before a gout of flame burst through the hedge, setting an entire section on fire, making the air explode with heat. Ironhorse bugled, rearing up in alarm. Puck cursed, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back the way we came.

We fled down the trail after the strange girl and her muscle-necked companion, feeling the heat from the monster's fire at our backs.
“Thieves!”
the terrible voice snarled, staying right on our heels.
“I can smell you! I can feel your breath and hear your hearts. Give me back what is mine!”

“Great,” Puck panted, as Ironhorse cantered beside us, bellowing that he would shield me from the flames. “Just great. I hate spiders. I hate wasps. But, you know what I hate even more than that?”

The thing behind us roared, and another blast of flame seared the branches overhead. I winced as we ran beneath a rain of cinders and flaming twigs. “Dragons?” I gasped.

“Remind me to kill Grimalkin next time we see him.”

The trail narrowed, then shrank down to a tight, thorny tunnel that twisted off into the darkness. Bending down and peering into it, I could just make out a door at the end of the burrow. And, I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw the door shut.

“I think I see a door!” I called, looking over my shoulder. Puck nodded impatiently.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Princess! Go!”

“What about Ironhorse?”

“He'll have to squeeze!” Puck pushed me toward the mouth, but I resisted. “Come on, Princess. We don't want to be in the middle of that if Deathbreath decides to sneeze on us.”

“We can't leave him behind!”

“WORRY NOT, PRINCESS,” Ironhorse said, and I gaped at him, not believing my eyes. Where a horse had been, now a man stood before me, dark and massive, with a square jaw and fists the size of hams. He wore jeans and a black shirt that bulged with all the muscles underneath, the skin stretched tight over steely tendons. Dreadlocks spilled from his scalp like a mane, and his eyes still burned with that intense red glow. “YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH A FEW TRICKS UP YOUR SLEEVE, GOODFELLOW,” he said, a faint smirk beneath his voice. “NOW, GO. I WILL BE RIGHT BEHIND YOU.”

With a horrible cracking sound, the dragon's head rose above the briars on a long, snaking neck, looming to an impossible height. It was bigger than I'd imagined, a long toothy maw covered in black-green scales, ivory horns curling back from its skull to frame the sky. Alien, red-gold eyes scanned the ground impassively, gleaming with cunning and intelligence.
“I see you, little thieves.”

Puck gave me a shove, and I tumbled into the burrow,
scratching my hands and knees and jabbing myself on the thorns. Cursing, I looked up and saw two familiar golden eyes floating before me in the dark.

“Hurry, human,” Grimalkin hissed, and fled down the burrow.

The tunnel seemed to shrink the farther I went, scraping my back and catching my hair and clothes as I followed Grimalkin, bent over like a crab. I heard Puck and Ironhorse behind me, felt the glare of the dragon's eye at my back, and cursed as my sleeve caught on a thorn. We were going too slow! The red door loomed at the end of the tunnel, a beacon of light and safety, so far away. But as I got closer, I saw Grimalkin standing in front of it, ears flattened against his skull, hissing and baring his teeth.

“Saint-John's-wort,” he snarled, and I saw a cluster of dried yellow flowers hanging on the door like tiny sunbursts. “The fey cannot enter with that on the door. Take it down, quickly, human!”

“Burn, little thieves!”

Fire exploded down the tunnel, writhing and twisting in a maelstrom of heat and fury, shooting toward us. I ripped the flowers off the door and dove through, Puck and Ironhorse toppling in after me. Flames shot over my head, singeing my back as I lay gasping on a cold cement floor. Then, the door slammed shut, cutting off the fire, and we were plunged into darkness.

Leanansidhe

For a few moments, I lay there on the concrete, my body curiously hot and cold at the same time. My neck, my shoulders, and the backs of my legs burned from the fire that had come way too close for comfort. But my cheek and stomach pressed into the cold cement, making me shiver. To either side of me, Puck and Ironhorse struggled to their feet with muffled curses and groans.

“Well, that was fun,” Puck muttered, helping me stand. “I swear, if I ever see those two kids again, we're going to have a little chat. If you're going to steal from a fifty-foot, fire-breathing lizard with the memory of an elephant, you'd better have a damn impressive riddle, or you wait until it isn't home. And who the hell put Saint-John's-wort over the door? I'm feeling very unwelcome right now.”

A flashlight clicked on in the shadows, blinding me. Shielding my eyes, I counted three silhouettes at the end of the
beam. Two I recognized; the tiny girl with furry ears and the green-skinned boy we'd met in the Briars. The last, the one holding the flashlight, was tall and skinny, with thick dark hair, a scraggly goatee, and two ridged horns curling up from his brow. He held a cross in the other hand, raised in front of his face like he was warding off a vampire.

Puck laughed. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but unless you're a priest, that isn't going to work. Neither is the salt you have poured across the floor. I'm not your average bogey.”

“Damn faeries,” spit goatee boy, looking pale. “How did you get in here? You'd better leave right now, if you know what's good for you.
She'll
tear your guts out and make harp strings with them.”

“Well, there's a problem with that,” Puck continued with mock regret. “See, right outside that door is a very pissed off reptile who is eager to turn us into shish kebab, because
you three
were stupid enough to steal from a dragon.” He sighed and shook his head in a disappointed manner. “You know dragons never forget a thief, don't you? So, what'd you take?”

“None of your business, faery,” goat boy shot back. “And maybe I wasn't clear when I said you're not welcome here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out three iron nails, holding them between white, shaking knuckles. “Maybe a faceful of iron will convince you otherwise.”

I stepped forward, shooting Puck a warning glare before he could rise to the challenge. “Take it easy,” I soothed, holding up my hands. “We don't want any trouble. We're just trying to get through the Briars, that's all.”

“Warren!” gasped the girl, staring at me wide-eyed. “It's her!”

All eyes flashed to me.

“It
is
you,” Warren breathed. “You're her, aren't you? Oberon's half-blood. The Summer princess.”

Ironhorse growled and pressed closer, causing the trio to shrink back. I put a hand on his chest. “How do you know me?”

“
She's
looking for you, you know. Got half the exiles looking for you—”

“Whoa, slow down, goat-boy.” Puck held up a hand. “Who is this remarkable
she
you keep talking about?”

Warren shot him a look that was half fearful, half awe. “
Her,
of course. The boss of this place. So…if this is Oberon's daughter, you must be him, aren't you? Robin Goodfellow? The Puck?” Puck smiled, which caused Warren to swallow noisily. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. “But—” he glanced at Ironhorse “—she didn't say anything about him. Who's he?”

“Stinks,” rumbled the green-skinned boy, curling his lip to reveal blunt, uneven teeth. “Smells like coal. Like iron.”

Warren's eyebrows shot up. “Aw, crap. He's one of
them
, isn't he? One of those Iron faeries! She won't be happy about this.”

“He's with me,” I said quickly, as Ironhorse drew himself up. “He's safe, I promise you. And who do you keep talking about? Who is this
she?
”

“Her name is Leanansidhe,” Warren stated, as if I were an idiot for not figuring it out. “Leanansidhe the Dark Muse. Queen of the Exiles.”

Puck's eyebrows arched into his hair.

“You're kidding,” he said, his face caught between a grimace and a smirk. “So, Leanansidhe fancies herself a queen, now? Oh, Titania will love that.”

“Who's Leanansidhe?” I asked.

The grimace won out. He shook his head and turned to me, his face grim. “Bad news, Princess. At one time, Leanansidhe was one of the most powerful beings in all the Nevernever. The Dark Muse, they called her, because she inspired many great artists, helping them produce their most brilliant works. You
might recognize some of the mortals she's helped—James Dean, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain.”

“No way.”

Puck shrugged. “But, as you should know, such help always comes with a price. None whom Leanansidhe inspires lives very long, ever. Their lives are brilliant, colorful, and very brief. Sometimes, if the artist was particularly special, she'd take him back to the Nevernever to entertain her for eternity. Or until she got bored. Of course, this was before…” He trailed off, giving me a sideways look.

“Before what?”

“Titania banished her to the mortal realm,” Puck said quickly, as if he was really going to say something else. “According to some, Leanansidhe was growing too powerful, had too many mortals worshipping her, and there was talk that she wanted to make herself queen. Naturally, this made our good Summer Queen more than a little jealous, so she exiled the self-proclaimed Queen of Muse and sealed off all trods to her, so that Leanansidhe could never return to Faery. That was several years ago, and no one has seen or heard from her since.

“But, apparently,” Puck continued, glancing at the three teenagers listening in rapt fascination, “Leanansidhe has a new following. A new little mortal cult ready to throw themselves at her feet.” He smothered a laugh. “Pickings must be pretty slim nowadays.”

“Hey,” said the girl, narrowing her eyes at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Why is Leanansidhe looking for me?” I asked, before an unpleasant thought drifted to mind. “You…you don't think she wants revenge, for what Titania did to her?” Great. That was all I needed, another faery queen who was out to get me. I must hold some sort of record.

We glared at Warren, who stepped back and raised his hands.
“Hey, man. Don't look at me. I don't know what she wants. Just that she's been looking for you.”

“WE CANNOT GO TO THIS LEANANSIDHE NOW,” Ironhorse boomed, making the teens jump and the ceiling rattle. God, he couldn't speak quietly if his life depended on it. “OUR MISSION IS URGENT. WE MUST GET TO CALIFORNIA AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.”

“Well, we're not going anywhere now, not with ol' Deathbreath guarding the only way out.”

“Come with us.”

I looked up. Warren had spoken and was staring at me intently. The eager look in his eyes made me uncomfortable, as did his sudden change in mood. “Come with us to Leanansidhe's,” he urged. “She could help. You want to go to California? She can get you there, easy—”

“Warren,” said the girl, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him aside. “Come here a second, would you? 'Scuse us a sec, people.” Surprisingly strong for her size, she dragged him into a far corner. Huddled against the wall, they whispered furiously to each other, casting suspicious glances at Ironhorse over their shoulders.

“What are we going to do?” I wondered. “Should we wait until the dragon leaves to find our way back through the Briars? Or should we find out what Leanansidhe wants?”

“NO,” thundered Ironhorse, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I DO NOT TRUST THIS LEANANSIDHE. IT IS TOO DANGEROUS.”

“Puck?”

He shrugged. “Under normal circumstances, I'd agree with the toaster oven,” he said, earning a hard glare from Ironhorse. “Leanansidhe has always been unpredictable, and she has enough power to make that dragon look like a cranky Gila
monster. But…I always say the enemy you know is better than the enemy you can't see.”

I nodded. “I agree. If Leanansidhe is looking for us, I think we should meet her on our own terms. Otherwise, I'd just worry about what she's sending after us.”

“Besides…” Puck rolled his eyes. “I think we have another problem.”

“What's that?”

“Our trusty guide has gone AWOL.”

I looked around, but Grimalkin had vanished, and he didn't respond to my hissed calls for him to show himself. The street kids were watching us now, eager and hesitant at the same time. I sighed. There was no telling where Grimalkin was, or when he'd return. Really, there was just one option.

“So.” I gave them a hopeful smile. “How far is Leanansidhe's?”

 

T
URNS OUT
, we were in the basement of her mansion.

“So, Leanansidhe has you guys steal from dragons?” I asked the girl as we walked down the dimly lit corridors, torchlight flickering over the damp stone walls. Whatever the house looked like, the basement was huge. It reminded me of a medieval dungeon, complete with heavy doors, wooden portcullises, and gargoyles leering at us from the walls. Mice scurried over the floor, and other things moved in the shadows, just out of sight.

The girl, Kimi, grinned at me. “Leanansidhe has lots of clients with very unusual tastes,” she explained. “Most of them are exiles, like her, who can't go back into the Nevernever for some reason. She uses us—” she gestured to herself and Nelson “—to fetch things she can't get herself, like that thing with the dragon. Apparently, a banished Winter sidhe in New York is paying a fortune for real dragon eggs.”

“You stole its
eggs?
”

“Only one.” Kimi giggled at my stunned expression. “Then the stupid lizard woke up and we had to book it.” She giggled again, smoothing down her ears. “Don't worry, we're not going to decimate the dragon population. Leanansidhe told us to leave a couple behind.”

Puck made a noise that might've been appreciation. “And what do you guys get out of this?”

“Free room and board. And the rep that goes with it. We'd be out on the streets, otherwise.” Kimi and Nelson shared a secret glance, but Warren was staring at me. He'd been doing that since we left to meet Leanansidhe, and it was making me very uncomfortable.

“The pay's not bad, either,” Kimi went on, oblivious to Warren's scrutiny. “At least, it's better than the alternative—being hunted down for what we are, getting stepped on by the exiles and the fey who just like it better in the mortal realm. Leanansidhe's made it safer for us—you don't screw around with the queen's pets. Even the redcap gangs know to leave you alone. For the most part, anyway.”

“Why?” I asked. “You're exiles, too, right? Why should it be different for you?” I looked at her furry, tufted ears, at Nelson's swamp-water skin and Warren's horns. They weren't human, that much was certain. But then I remembered Warren holding out the iron cross, his fearful
damned faeries,
how they could get through the door when Grimalkin couldn't. And I knew what they were even before Kimi said it.

“Because,” she said cheerfully, twitching her ears, “we're half-breeds. I'm half-phouka, Nelson's half-troll, and Warren is part-satyr. And if there's one thing an exile hates more than the fey who banished him, its half-breeds like us.”

I hadn't thought of that before, though it made sense. I suspected half-breeds like Kimi, Nelson and Warren had it pretty
tough. Without Oberon's protection, they would've been left to the whims of the true fey, who probably made life very difficult for them. It wasn't surprising they would make a deal with this Queen of the Exiles, in exchange for some degree of protection. Even if it meant stealing dragon eggs right out from under the dragon.

“Oh, and by the way,” Kimi went on, with a quick glance at Ironhorse, clanking along behind me. “Leanansidhe knows about…um…
his kind.
They've been killing off lots of exiles lately, and it's making her mad. Your ‘friend' should be really careful around her. I don't know how she'll take an Iron faery in her living room. I've seen her throw a fit for less.”

“Shut up, Kimi,” Warren said abruptly. We had reached the end of the hall, where a bright red door waited for us atop a flight of stairs. “I told you, it's not a big deal.”

I frowned at him, but something caught my attention. Strains of music drifted down the steps, the low, shivery chords of a piano or organ. The music was dark and haunting, reminding me of a play I'd seen a long time ago,
The Phantom of the Opera.
I remembered Mom dragging me to the theater when the play came through our little town, shortly before Ethan was born. I remembered thinking I'd have to sit through three hours of absolute boredom and torture, but from the first booming organ chords, I was completely entranced.

I also remembered Mom crying through several of the scenes, something she never did, even with the saddest movies. I didn't think anything of it then, but it seemed a little odd, now.

We stepped up and through the doorway into a magnificent foyer, with a double grand staircase sweeping toward a high vaulted ceiling and a roaring fireplace surrounded by plush black sofas. The hardwood floor gleamed red, the walls were patterned in red and black, and gauzy black curtains covered
the high arched windows near the back of the room. Nearly every clear space on the wall was taken up by paintings—oil paintings, watercolors, black-and-white sketches. The Mona Lisa smiled her odd little smile on the far wall, next to a weird, disjointed painting that was probably Picasso.

Music echoed through the room, dark and haunting piano chords played with such force that they made the air vibrate and my teeth buzz. An enormous grand piano stood in the corner near the fireplace, the flames dancing in the reflection of the polished wood. Hunched over the keys, a figure in a rumpled white shirt beat and pounded the ivory bars, fingers flying.