The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey) (11 page)

“He nearly died,” she admitted, making me sober quickly. “I didn’t tell the undines
how
to stop him, so naturally they tried to stop him
permanently.
I could see them in the center of the river, the whole school, all trying to drag him to the bottom to drown. But the strangest thing was, Keirran didn’t fight back. Not lethally. I’ve seen him fight—I know he could have drawn his sword and sliced them all to pieces, but he didn’t.”

“How’d he get out?”

“He froze the whole river,” Annwyl whispered, and I raised my eyebrows. “The water turned frigid, and the surface iced over as far as I could see. Everything around it became covered in frost.”

“Geez,” I muttered.

“Undines are Summer fey, so they can’t stand cold water,” Annwyl went on. “I don’t know what exactly happened between them and Keirran once the surface iced over—they were all underwater when it happened. I do remember standing at the edge of the bank, looking at the frozen river and waiting for Keirran to surface. I thought I really might have killed him, and I was terrified.”

“I assume he finally surfaced.”

The Summer girl smiled faintly. “No,” she said. “I never saw him break out. I kept waiting for him, when suddenly, I heard a quiet ‘Excuse me,’ at my back. I turned, and he was right there, dripping wet and smiling.”

I snorted. “Show-off.”

Annwyl’s smile grew wider, though more wistful. “He wasn’t even angry,” she murmured. “I think I started falling for him that very afternoon. Though I didn’t know it until later, and even then, I thought it could never work between us. The courts would never allow it.” She gazed into her cup, her eyes far away. “We had...a few nights. When he would sneak out of Mag Tuiredh and come visit me, first in Arcadia and then at Leanansidhe’s. I wish we’d had more time. But it doesn’t matter now.” Her gaze darkened again, and she closed her eyes. “I’ll be gone soon enough. And Keirran will move on. It’s better that way.”

I started to reply, when there was a dark shimmer outside the window, like an ink blot moving through water, and my skin prickled.

Not far from where we sat, perched on the railing of a balcony across the street, a shadowy thing watched us with glowing yellow eyes. Annwyl followed my gaze, and her face tightened with fear.

I drained the last of my coffee and rose. Without speaking, Annwyl and I hurried back to the hotel room, where I dug a sprig of Saint-John’s-wort out of my backpack and taped it to the door. I also poured a line of salt across the windowsills, not caring what the cleaning ladies would think when they came in. Small precautions. Not perfect, but better than nothing.

“Get some rest,” I told Annwyl, flopping down on one of the beds. “Looks like we’re stuck here until tonight. Might as well sleep while we can.” Not that I thought I could relax enough to sleep; I’d likely stay up with my swords close by, just in case any shadowy figures slipped under the door and into the room. But Annwyl looked tired and still frighteningly pale.

Better than she had in the truck, and much better than that awful moment when she’d started to Fade from existence, but she still didn’t look great.

The Summer girl didn’t argue. Settling wearily atop the other bed, she curled into herself and closed her eyes. I waited a few minutes, then quietly eased off my bed, grabbed my laptop and swords, and settled in the armchair in the corner.

“Ethan?” came Annwyl’s soft voice after a few minutes of silence. I’d thought she had fallen asleep, and glanced up in surprise.

“Yeah?”

The Summer faery hesitated, her back still to me. “I wish I could express how grateful I am,” she murmured. “My kind doesn’t say...those words...but you’ve done so much for me and Keirran. I just want to say...”

“It’s fine, Annwyl.” I spoke quickly to reassure her. “You don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” She relaxed, her shoulders slumping in relief. “You’re welcome, but we haven’t found Keirran yet. Just concentrate on not Fading away until we do.”

I saw her nod, and a few minutes later, she seemed truly asleep. In the silence, the urge to call Kenzie returned, stronger than ever. I missed her. I hated the thought that she was angry with me now. But I didn’t regret my decision. In a few hours, Annwyl and I would head into the dangerous, unpredictable goblin market, and it was better that Kenzie stay far away from the madness.

If I was being honest with myself, she’d be better off staying away from me, too.

* * *

The hours dragged and yet went more quickly than I would’ve liked, every minute bringing us closer to midnight. Annwyl slept most of the afternoon; maybe she’d never really gotten to sleep until now, or maybe her condition made her tired and sluggish, sort of like having the flu. I didn’t know, but she politely declined leaving the room when I headed out to get food. Fearful of having her disappear, I grabbed a couple candy bars from the vending machine outside and hurried back to find she had fallen asleep again. Restless, I watched TV and Netflix and envied the faery, still curled up on the bed. She did wake up later that evening when I forced her to go to McDonald’s with me because I was starving after nothing but chocolate bars for lunch. But she remained quiet and nervous, not speaking much. Truthfully, I was more than a little nervous, too.

At eleven-thirty, I grabbed my backpack, stuffed my swords inside, out of sight of the public eye, and turned to Annwyl.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” she replied, with a determination that reminded me of someone on the way to the gallows. Terrified but resolved to show no fear. “Let’s go find Keirran.”

Bourbon Street wasn’t far, and New Orleans glowed an eerie green and orange under the light of the full moon. It was almost surreal. We walked the couple blocks to the famous street, passing neon signs and lampposts shining feebly in the artificial haze. People wandered by, not paying any attention to either me or the faery at my side. A goblin peered at us from a narrow alley, picking his teeth with a fragment of bone, but didn’t make any move to follow.

Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop was a tiny building on the corner of St. Philip and Bourbon Street. From the outside, it looked deliberately run-down, white plaster peeling away to reveal spots of red brick. Wooden shutters and doors stood open to the night, and an old-fashioned lantern hung beside the entrance, flickering orange.

I gazed behind us to the road, watching cars cruise down Bourbon Street and people drift over the sidewalks. With the orange lights, full moon and faint strands of jazz music playing from one of the open bars, New Orleans did have a magical quality to it. I knew why this place was such a haven for the fey, and I knew they were out there, skulking between buildings and slipping invisibly through crowds. Still, I couldn’t imagine the whole street teeming with faeries, an entire marketplace of them. I hoped that dryad knew what she was talking about.

Annwyl and I crossed the street and ducked through the leftmost door of Laffite’s bar to find ourselves in a dim, old-fashioned room. Round wooden tables were scattered about a stone floor, and the bar stood against the back wall, most of the stools occupied. The only lights came from the candles set on the tables and hanging from the walls, and the flames in the huge stone fireplace in the center of the room.

Someone pushed past me from behind, jostling me with barely a grunt of apology. I stepped farther into the bar and glanced back for Annwyl, nearly lost in the shadows.

“All right,” I muttered, stepping up to the fireplace and turning to face the doors. Annwyl followed silently. “So, according to the dryads, we just have to turn widdershins three times and walk out the door on the right—left now, since we came inside—and we’ll be in the market.” I checked my watch to make sure it was 12:00 a.m. Six minutes past midnight. “On three?”

She nodded, and on my signal, we closed our eyes and spun counterclockwise in place three times, me feeling slightly ridiculous and hoping no one was watching.

On the first two circles, nothing happened. But when we completed the third, I opened my eyes to find the inside of the bar had...changed. It wasn’t full of fey. The lights and tables and patrons sat where they had always been; really nothing had moved. But everything around us was slightly out of focus. Conversations were muted, and everything seemed to be going in slow motion.

Except us. And the door a few yards away. It stood out sharply against the blurred, hazy backdrop, the opening shimmering like heat waves. That was it. Our entrance to the goblin market.

I nudged Annwyl, and together we walked across the floor, past indistinct shadows and nearly frozen candle flames, and ducked through the opening.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SECRETS FOR SECRETS

Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore
was the cheesy first thought that went through my head as we stepped out into the street.

Noise surrounded us—not the muffled sounds of cars and street traffic at night, but the louder, garbled sounds of a huge crowd. “Normal” Bourbon Street had disappeared; though I could see it was still the same stretch of pavement, the same buildings lining the sidewalks, it was definitely not the same world. Streetlamps had been replaced with torches and faery fire, orbs of blue-white flame floating overhead. There were no cars, but horse-drawn carriages glided down the road—only the horses’ hooves never touched the ground, and their eyes glowed blue in the shadows. The buildings, though they looked the same at first, appeared old and run-down on closer inspection, covered in vines and moss, as if we had stepped back in time a hundred years.

And of course, there were the fey.

They were everywhere, milling about the road in huge numbers, faeries of every shape, size and description. Short, warty goblins with beady eyes and huge ears. Hulking ogres, their thick knuckles dragging along the ground as they lumbered by. Redcaps flashing their shark-toothed grins at everyone. Rail-thin bogeys hiding in the shadows and narrow crevices. And faeries I didn’t have a name for, all wandering down Bourbon Street, looking like the world’s largest freak convention.

Oh, this was going to suck.

Shrugging off my backpack, I pulled out my swords and slipped them onto my belt. No way I was going out there unarmed. Taking out my jacket, I shrugged into it and pulled up the hood, hoping it would shield me from any curious looks. And if my luck held, hide the fact that I was human long enough to find Keirran and get out of here without trouble.

Glancing at Annwyl, who looked slightly overwhelmed as well, I grimaced. “Ready for this?”

“No,” she replied, her eyes wide. “But...lead the way.”

We slipped onto the crowded road, moving more slowly than I would’ve liked. Faeries weren’t the only thing making the street difficult to navigate. Booths and wooden tables were arranged in narrow aisles down the pavement, displaying the weirdest merchandise you’d ever see in your life: weeping fish and glass eyes and jewelry made of bones and teeth. Bird skeletons, crystal balls, shriveled hands and hats that whispered to you as you passed. A yellow-eyed woman in gypsy robes caught my eye and grinned, beckoning me toward her booth, waving a deck of cards in her long fingers. A kimono-clad girl with fox ears peeking from her hair gave me a coy smile, fluttering a fan and pointing to her table of rice cakes. I ignored them all and hurried on.

After several minutes of wandering the aisles and dodging requests by persistent vendors to take a look at their goods, it became pretty apparent that the chances of just stumbling into Keirran were slim to none. This place was massive; I could walk right past the Iron Prince and never know. Luckily, that hadn’t been my only plan. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, though, because it meant I was going to have to do something I hated and tried to avoid at all costs.

Bargain with the fey.

I searched the market until I found a booth that sold “potions for all ills,” run by a well-dressed, ancient-looking gnome. He stood on a stool beside a counter full of different-size vials and bottles.
Vial of Forgetfulness,
one read, next to a large display of
Minor Love Potions
and
Jars of Friendship.
The gnome blinked as we came up, raising an eyebrow that looked like a fuzzy gray caterpillar.

“Human?” His voice squeaked like a centuries-old mouse. “Unusual. How did you find your way into the market?”

“Does it matter?” I asked him, keeping my head down and my voice low.

The gnome sniffed, and his voice turned wheedling. “No, I suppose not. But while you’re here, how ’bout you buy one of my wares? I have a lovely selection of love potions. Guaranteed to work, you know. You have that pining aura all around you, boy.” He grinned, showing crooked yellow teeth. “Or perhaps there is a rival? This lovely vial right here will turn your enemy into a cockroach.”

“No,” I said, repressing a shiver. “I’m just looking for someone, a friend of mine. Part human, silver hair, my age.” I didn’t say exactly who he was; the gnome definitely would’ve recognized him, but I didn’t want word spreading that we were looking for the Iron Prince. If the vendor had seen him, he’d know who I was talking about. “Have you seen him? And if you haven’t, do you know of anyone who might have?”

As I was talking, I swung my bag off my shoulders, unzipped it and reached into the side pocket. The gnome gave me a sly grin, but before he could say anything about cost, I pulled out a full bottle of honey and plunked it on the table.

He blinked. “What’s this?

“Payment,” I replied flatly. “For information.”

“Hmm.” The gnome regarded it appraisingly, trying not to look eager, though I saw it anyway. “I do use honey in a lot of my potions, but I don’t know if that will be enough of a trade...”

I snatched the bottle off the counter and turned. “Fine. We’ll just find someone else.”

“Wait! Wait.” The gnome threw out his hand, scowling. “Very well.” He sniffed. “You drive a hard bargain, human. Give that to me, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Still wary, I handed it over, placing it within reach this time. The vendor snatched it up, sniffed the cap deeply and smiled. Tossing it behind the table, he turned back to me with a grin.

“Sorry, human. Haven’t seen him.”

I breathed deeply to stop myself from punching this faery in his smirking head. “That’s not what I asked.”

“You wanted me to tell you if I’ve seen your friend.” The gnome sounded smug. “And I answered. I haven’t seen anyone like that around here. I gave you the information we agreed on, human. This bargain is done.”

Dammit, this was why I hated faeries. I didn’t have many bargaining chips left, and we still didn’t know where Keirran could be. At least we hadn’t been negotiating for something important, like my voice or my future kid. I’d have to word any requests very carefully next time.

But before I could say or do anything else, Annwyl spoke up, startling us both.

“No,” she said, coming around to stand beside me. Her voice was firm, shockingly different than the shy, quiet girl I’d known so far. “Not everything. You’re ‘forgetting’ the second part of the question. Do you know of anyone who might have seen our friend? This market has an information broker, does it not? Where can we find it?”

“Ahhh.” The gnome shuffled his feet, not meeting Annwyl’s fierce glare. I was still staring at her in shock and also kicking myself for not catching that myself. “Well, like I said,” he muttered, “I haven’t seen your friend. But there
is
an information broker around here, I believe.”

“Where?” Annwyl asked, her tone hard.

“She has a tent two blocks down,” the gnome said, pointing with a crooked finger. “Not very obvious—you’ll have to be looking for it to see it. Just keep an eye out for the crows.” He glared at me. “And you’ll have to have something better than a jar of honey to get the information you’re looking for. She ain’t nearly as nice as I am.”

Oh, goody. More bargains. Wonder what
this
faery will want. If it even mentions my firstborn kid, I swear I’m going to punch something.

Without another word, Annwyl turned and headed back into the market. Giving the gnome one last glare, I followed.

“I thought you didn’t remember anything about goblin markets,” I said as we dodged around a booth to avoid a troll stalking by, sharp tusks curling from his jaw. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I was just surprised. Are you starting to remember?”

“No,” Annwyl said, back to being quiet and shy, not looking at me. “But I’ve made a few bargains in my lifetime, and I know my way around the tricks and loopholes.” Her voice hardened. “I wasn’t going to let that gnome get away with not telling us about Keirran.”

“Well.” I exhaled, suddenly very glad that she was there. “You’ll have to help me out with this information broker, then. I’ve avoided making deals with the fey my entire life, so I’m a little rusty.” I glanced around the market, with all its crazy, surreal merchandise and vendors, and repressed a shiver. “I swore I’d never do this,” I groaned. “So, just poke me if I’m about to bargain away my voice or something.”

Annwyl nodded solemnly, and we continued deeper into the goblin market.

* * *

The market thinned out a couple blocks down. Booths and tables still lined the sidewalks, but not as many, though there were still crowds of fey milling between them. I kept my head down and my hood up as I skirted the edges of the booths, searching for anything that might be our mysterious information broker.
Keep an eye out for the crows,
the gnome vendor had said. What was that supposed to mean?

“Any idea what we’re looking for?” Annwyl murmured at my shoulder.

I was about to reply when I caught a split-second glance of a figure gliding through the crowds of fey. A girl...with long raven hair streaked with blue. My heart gave a violent lurch and I turned quickly, running into someone in my haste.

“Excuse me.”

The faery I’d bumped into turned, a tall Winter sidhe with a furry white cloak draped over her shoulders, the head of a fox peering sightlessly down at me. Her tone was as icy as her eyes and hair. “What’s this?” she said, glaring down her nose at me and Annwyl. “A dirty little human and a Summer harlot. Did you
touch
me, human?” Her blue lips curled with distaste. “I will never get the stench out of my cloak.”

“Sorry,” I said hastily, backing away. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, but you did, all the same.” The Winter faery’s voice was cruel, and she snapped her fingers. Three trolls stepped out of the crowd, boxing us in. They were bigger than the normal variety, their skin pale blue instead of green, their lank hair white. They growled, baring curved tusks, flexing long black claws. The Winter faery’s lips curved in a slow smile. “I believe compensation is in order,” she purred as my hands twitched for my swords. “Or I will have my pets take it out of your hide.”

“Milady, please,” Annwyl began.

“Silence, Summer filth,” the Winter lady snapped, giving Annwyl a look of pure hatred. “You’re lucky the mortal was the one to transgress. I would have ripped out your weak Summer heart and fed it as a treat to my pets. Dare to speak to me again, and I
will.
”

“Don’t even think about it,” I snapped, pulling my weapons. “Unless you want to take home three less pets than you started out with.” The trolls surrounding us snarled, but the sidhe woman laughed. I bristled at that laugh but tried to keep my voice reasonable. I did not want to fight three scary-ass trolls in the middle of a goblin market. But I also did not want to bargain with a Winter gentry, not now. “I don’t want any trouble,” I told the faery, who offered a patronizing smile in return. “Just let us go, and we can get on with our lives.”

“I don’t think so, little human.” Her eyes narrowed to blue slits, though that sadistic smile didn’t waver. “And I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do. So, what’s it to be, mortal?” She edged closer, looming over us. “What do you have to offer for your pathetic blunder?”

“Nothing,” I snarled, raising my swords. “I don’t have anything.”

“What he means to say,” interrupted a new voice, making my heart stop, “is that he has to wait for me to make any bargains on his behalf.”

The faery turned, the trolls grunted and I stared...as Kenzie pushed her way into the circle and stood in front of me, facing down the sidhe. Annwyl gasped, but I couldn’t move or even make a sound.

“Another human,” the gentry mused. “The market is practically infested with them tonight. Well, go on, then, mortal.” She waved an airy hand at the girl. “Tell me who you are, before I have my pets rip off the boy’s head and turn his skin into a new cloak for me.”

“You don’t need to know my name,” Kenzie said in a clear, unwavering voice. “All you need to know is that I can pay for whatever
he—
” she jerked her head back, though she didn’t look at me “—owes you.”

“No!” I started toward her, but one of the trolls moved. Lightning fast, it lashed out with a huge fist, slamming me in the stomach. Pain exploded through my gut, and all the air left my lungs. Gasping, I dropped to my knees on the pavement, feeling the world spin around me and trying not to hurl.

Annwyl sank down, trying to help me up as the trolls closed in, growling. Kenzie spared me a brief, frightened look, then turned back to the Winter faery, holding something out to her. From my angle on the ground, I couldn’t see what it was.

“Here!” Kenzie said as I struggled to get up, to stop her. “You can have this. Take it and leave us alone.”

The sidhe’s thin eyebrows rose. “A Token?” she mused, unable to mask her surprise. “Well, how very
generous,
little mortal.” She reached out, plucking something bright from Kenzie’s hand, and snapped her fingers. The trolls backed off, still growling, but retreated until they stood behind the Winter faery. “I suppose this will do,” she said, and her gaze strayed to me, still on the ground. “You’re very fortunate, boy. Next time, I will have your lovely eyes on a string. Run on home, before you get in real trouble, mortals. You don’t belong here.”

She glided off, her trolls stumping along behind her, and the small crowd that had been watching dispersed.

I rose, breathing slowly, carefully, to make sure none of my ribs were broken. “I’m all right,” I rasped, to ease the concern on both Annwyl’s and Kenzie’s faces. But while Annwyl hovered anxiously, her green eyes solemn and worried, Kenzie remained where she was, watching me with a mixture of concern, wariness and anger.

My shock hadn’t faded. I didn’t know what to feel; my insides were such a chaotic, churning mess of emotion, I didn’t know what to settle on. Relief that she was here. Anger that she was here and not safe with her family. Astonishment that she had found us. A horrible, gnawing guilt that I had ditched her, left her behind while I went looking for the fey.