The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey) (12 page)

And of course, there was that knowledge that she had just saved us. Again. I remembered Kenzie’s quick thinking in the Nevernever, when I’d been in trouble and she’d managed to turn it around. The odds hadn’t looked good for me a few seconds ago, either. Those trolls probably would’ve torn my arms off.

Why didn’t you want her to come, again?

Oh yeah. Because she was gravely ill. Because there was a creepy faery assassin following me around. And because, no matter what she said, the world of Faery and everything in it was dangerous.

And I couldn’t lose her to Faery the way I’d lost Meghan.

“Kenzie, what are you doing here?” I snapped, which didn’t come out as strong as I wanted as my lungs were still a bit flattened. “How did you even find us?” Her eyes flashed and shifted all the way to anger.

“I asked around,” she replied, glaring at me. “You’re not the only one who can see the fey anymore, remember? When we got here, I kept my eyes open and found a faery living in the hotel we’re staying at. A brownie, I think. He was all too happy to tell me how to find and get to the goblin market.”

“Dammit, Kenzie,” I growled, glaring back at her. “What did you give him for that information?”

She raised her chin. “I brought a whole suitcase full of gifts and bribes, tough guy. It’s amazing how far costume jewelry will get you.”

Relief spread through me. At least she hadn’t come unprepared, though, really, what had I expected from her? It wasn’t even that much of a shock that she had found her way with little to no information. Kenzie would always find a way, whether it was a good idea or not.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I insisted, and her expression darkened.

“Yeah, well, I’m here now,” Kenzie shot back. “So unless you’re going to throw me over your shoulder like a caveman and cart me out, I’m not going anywhere.”

I clenched my fists, wondering how badly she would hurt me if I did just that. But Annwyl moved up beside me and touched my arm.

“Ethan, look,” she murmured, nodding to something across the street.

Tearing my attention from Kenzie, I followed Annwyl’s gaze. On the other side of the road, I caught sight of a line of birds perched along a telephone wire, black and nearly invisible against the darkness. Below them sat a plain, nondescript tent, also nearly invisible against the carnival-like backdrop of the market.

Kenzie glanced at the line of birds and the tent beneath it. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. “Crows,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Am I missing something? I thought we were here for Keirran. Do we think he’s in there?”

I slumped. “No,” I muttered, picking up my dropped swords and sheathing them at my waist. No use in standing around arguing. Kenzie was here, and she wasn’t leaving. I was certain she’d lay into me about it later, but right now, we needed to find what we were looking for and get out. “But it’s a place where someone might know where he is. Just...we have to be careful. I don’t think honey and fake jewelry are going to work here.”

Kenzie still looked pissed but gave a stiff nod. Still, something nagged at me, and I caught up to her as we crossed the road, heading for the tent. “Wait, what did you give that Winter faery?” I asked in a low voice as we passed under the telephone wires, hearing soft, garbled
caws
overhead. “She said it was a Token.” A Token, in faery terms, was an item that had been so loved, hated or cherished in real life, it had actually developed a life of its own. The item, whatever it was, became the embodiment of that emotion and was like a lump of pure glamour to the fey. “That wasn’t costume jewelry, was it?” I asked, and Kenzie swallowed.

“No,” she whispered, not looking at me. “It was...my mom’s ring. I was saving it, in case I needed something really valuable to offer for trade.”

I stopped, looking at her in horror. “Kenzie...”

“It’s fine, Ethan.” But she still didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t regret it. And it was the only thing I could think of.”

The guilt I’d felt before was nothing compared to the bone-crushing weight I felt now, squeezing the air from my lungs. I didn’t know whether to apologize or yell at her for doing something so stupid, giving up something so precious, for me. But Kenzie walked doggedly forward, head and back straight, and ducked through the tent flaps at the edge of the sidewalk. Annwyl and I had no choice but to follow.

The inside of the tent was dark, musty and warm. Orange candle glow flickered around us, on tables and hanging lanterns, and the air smelled of bark, dust and animal droppings, making me stifle a cough.

Near the back of the tent, a ragged, hooded figure sat in the center of what looked like a huge nest. Twigs, string, grass stalks and branches were woven into each other, surrounding the hunched form in the middle of the nest. A pair of crows perched on the edge, regarding us with shiny black eyes.

The figure in the center of the nest stirred, cocking its head like it was listening for us. “Visitors,” it rasped, its voice low and harsh. “Step forward.”

We eased up to the tangle of sticks and branches, where one of the crows cawed and aimed a sharp peck at the side of my face, making me flinch. The robed figure burbled a laugh.

“Watch your eyes,” it warned. “They like shiny things.”

I eyed the crow warily, then noticed something else. The bottom of the nest was covered with feathers, string and bird droppings, but beads of brilliant color glinted among the offal. Rings, keys, earrings, buttons and other shiny objects were scattered about as well, but even they seemed dull compared to the glowing orbs of color lying among feathers and bird crap. Eyes shining with fascination, Kenzie reached out to touch the closest one, but the hooded figure swatted her arm with a folded paper fan, and she pulled back with a yelp.

“No, no,” the figure rasped and raised its head. Beady eyes glinted under the cloth as I stared into the face of a huge raven, beak snapping in irritation. A scaly black talon reached out and plucked the bead that Kenzie had been reaching for, drawing it into its chest. “Secret is not for you. Not without a price.” The bird-thing rolled the glowing green marble back and forth in its claws and watched us, unblinking. “You seek information,” it said, its gaze settling on Annwyl. “All who come here seek information, secrets, hidden things.” It closed its talons, and the bead vanished. “Perhaps I have what you seek, yes? Ask. Ask.”

“What is the price?” Annwyl asked instead, echoing what I was thinking. “You spoke of a cost. What do you want for the information we seek?”

“Depends” was the croaked answer. “Depends on the secret, how well hidden it is, how hard it was to discover. Don’t know until you ask.” It clicked its beak with a grinding sound. “Ask,” it demanded again. “Ask. Then see if the price is too high to pay.”

Annwyl looked at me. I nodded. We wouldn’t get anywhere standing around doing nothing, much as I wasn’t enjoying this. “We’re looking for someone,” the Summer faery said, turning back to the bird-thing. “Prince Keirran of the Iron Court. We need to know where he is, where we can find him, please.”

“Iron Prince?” The bird faery didn’t seem surprised or distressed. “When do you wish to find him?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Hmm.” The bird faery thought a moment, then plucked a marble out of the debris, holding it up. It pulsed with a soft blue light.

“Large secret,” it rasped. “Not difficult to get, per se, but demand makes it expensive. The Iron Prince is well hidden. His location is one that many would like to know. But I know where he is.” It chuckled, a low sound in the back of its throat, and I clenched my fists. The answer to Keirran’s whereabouts, not three feet away. If I just grabbed it and ran, would a mob of angry crows run me down and peck me to death? Not that I had any intention of doing something so stupid, especially with Kenzie and Annwyl around, but I wished we could get it without all this ridiculous, dangerous bargaining.

Annwyl’s voice remained calm. “What do you want for it?”

The faery’s eyes glittered as it looked at all three of us. “For secrets to be revealed,” it rasped, closing its talons over the marble, “secrets must be shared. One piece of information for another. If you want to know the location of the Iron Prince, you must give me a secret in return. Something you have never shared with anyone. And I will decide if the combined weight of your secrets is enough to share this one with you.”

“Really?” Kenzie asked, sounding puzzled. “That’s all? Just one secret from each of us?” She blinked, then frowned slightly. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch,” Annwyl said quietly, startling me again, “is that our secrets become brokered merchandise that anyone can pay for. Something that can be traded away to whoever wants it, if their offer is high enough.”

“Yes,” the crow faery agreed, not bothering to deny it. “Secrets for secrets, one whisper for another. Information is very powerful. Some would die for it. Some would kill for it. How much are you willing to pay, little wingless ones? How badly do you want to find the prince?”

“I’ll agree to your price,” Annwyl said without hesitation. “If this is the only way to find him. But Ethan and Kenzie don’t have to do this.” She spared us a quick glance. “This isn’t their burden.”

“No.” The faery shook its head, dislodging a feather that floated lazily to the side of the nest. “You are all looking for the Iron Prince. You all want the information. You all must pay the price.” It snapped its beak with a sharp clicking sound. “Secrets from all, or secrets from none. That is how it works. And do not attempt to tell me falsehoods, humans.” It fastened a beady black eye on me. “I will know if what you speak is truth or lies. So.” It cocked its head, regarding us all. “What is it to be, wingless ones? Do we have a deal?”

Dammit, I didn’t want to do this. And I sure as hell didn’t want Kenzie to do this. Trading honey, jewelry or material things wasn’t bad; I could easily replace them. It was
this
kind of thing that scared the crap out of me. Bargaining away something personal, something that was a part of me, that I could never get back.

But if it was the only way to find Keirran...

I sighed. “All right,” I murmured, and Annwyl looked at me in surprise. “I’ll agree to it, too. Kenzie?”

She didn’t look at me, and her voice came out stiff. “You already know I’m gonna say yes.”

“Excellent,” rasped the bird faery as the two crows flapped their wings and hopped to its hunched shoulders. One scaly talon rose to beckon to us. “Step forward, then. Come around to this side and whisper your secret into my ear. But remember—trivial secrets are of little use to me. Deep, dark secrets carry power and are the only thing that will pay for the information you desire. Do not waste my time, wingless ones. Step forward.”

I swallowed hard as Annwyl walked around the nest, coming to stand at the faery’s side. The crow on the ragged shoulder eyed her, unblinking, as she bent down, bringing her mouth close to the hooded cowl. Her lips moved, and I averted my gaze, feeling I shouldn’t watch her spill her darkest secret to the hunched form in the nest.

The crow on the faery’s shoulder suddenly lunged at her, driving its sharp beak into her ear. Annwyl gasped, jerking away, as the bird pulled back, holding a glowing green orb the size of a marble.

Ruffling its feathers, the crow hopped onto the bird faery’s arm and dropped the glowing ball into its open palm. The faery’s claws curled around it instantly, and Annwyl’s secret vanished from sight.

The Summer girl shivered.

“Yes,” the faery hissed, sounding pleased. “Good, very good. We are off to an excellent start.” It clacked its beak and looked at Kenzie. “Now, are the human’s secrets as interesting?”

Kenzie’s eyes met mine, and something in her solemn gaze caused chills to creep up my back. More secrets. I thought she’d already told me her biggest secret, the one she shared when we were alone and trapped in the Forgotten cave. The thought that she was hiding more from me made my insides hurt.

Kenzie walked around the side of the nest, bent down and whispered something into the faery’s ear. This time, though I felt rotten doing it, I watched her carefully, trying to catch a hint of what she was saying. My heart stilled when, for just a moment, I thought I saw my name on her lips, but I couldn’t be certain. Kenzie flinched when the crow’s beak darted into her ear, emerging with a shining orb of blue, and it disappeared into the faery’s claws like the other one.

Then it was my turn.

My heart pounded as I made my way around the nest. Secrets. What could I say? Kenzie already knew my biggest one. The regret I’d never told anyone before, that day with Samantha and the black pony, when I’d watched a faery hurt my friend, ruin her life and couldn’t do anything to stop it. She already knew. And the bird faery wanted something I’d never told anyone before. A secret that could be bought. That could be used against me.

I still didn’t know what I was going to say as I bent down, nervously eyeing the crow’s sharp beak, so close to my eyes. But I took a deep breath, my lips parted, and without even thinking about it, I breathed:

“It’s Keirran’s fault Meghan never comes around. She would still be part of this family if he was never born.”

Whoa. Where had
that
come from?

CHAPTER TWELVE

MR. DUST

I barely felt the crow stab its beak into my ear, still reeling from what I’d just told the faery. I... Did I blame Keirran for Meghan’s absence? It sure sounded like I did, which made me an irrational jackass. Okay, so I’d already known I was a jackass, but an even bigger one.

The bird faery cackled, tucking the secret into the folds of its robe. “Interesting,” it said, giving me a sideways look with one beady eye. “Sometimes the biggest secrets are the ones we keep from ourselves, eh, human?”

I crossed my arms, vowing to deal with this newest personality wrinkle later. Right now, we had to find the prince. “You got your secrets,” I told the faery, stepping back to join Kenzie and Annwyl, ignoring their worried looks. “Now, tell us where we can find Keirran.”

The bird faery clacked its beak. Reaching into a tattered sleeve, it withdrew the bright blue marble and held it up, letting it glimmer in the dim light.

“Secrets for secrets,” it rasped and tossed it at me.

I caught it instinctively, and the second the globe touched my skin, there was a flash behind my eyes, and I was somewhere else.

Or maybe some
one
else. I stood in the same room, facing the lanterns and the crows and the hunched old bird faery in the center of the nest. But I wasn’t
me.
I don’t know how I knew this; maybe because I couldn’t move or even speak. It was like I was a passenger in someone else’s head.

“And you’re certain this person can help me?”

The voice echoed inside my head, low and familiar. Across from me, the bird faery shook itself. “Secrets for secrets,” it rasped, nodding. “You have what you came for, boy. Leave now.”

I, or rather, the person whose head I was inhabiting, turned, slipped out of the tent and began walking.

I kept my eyes open, though I didn’t have much of a choice, and tried to pay attention to where I was going. Past the goblin market and the vendors haggling their unearthly merchandise, I ducked down a side alley that took me away from the main stretch. Across a deserted street, a wall of old, crumbling apartments sat at the edge of the pavement. I scanned the line of doors until I found the one I was looking for. Simple, unmarked, painted black.

Walking up the three steps to the stoop, I knocked twice, and the door swung back, revealing a shark-toothed redcap in the frame. The faery’s dull yellow eyes widened at the sight of me, but it didn’t move.

“Yeah?” it growled, baring crooked fangs. “Whaddya want?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Dust.”

Mr. who?
I wondered, but the redcap blinked slowly and nodded, stepping aside. As I crossed the threshold, I felt a pushing sensation, as if I was being shoved back. A tall figure in a hooded cloak, the head I’d been hijacking, I guessed, stepped away from me, walking through the frame and leaving me behind. I tried to follow, but I couldn’t move without my host body, and the redcap slammed the door in my face.

I jerked, opening my eyes, to find Kenzie and Annwyl staring at me anxiously. The bird faery, too, peered at me from beneath its hood, silent and waiting. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the creepy feeling of being in someone else’s head.

“You okay?” Kenzie asked, and there was a note of real concern in her voice, not just a courtesy offered to a friend. I nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Turning around, I stared at the tent flaps, remembering the way they’d parted for the figure, his path through the goblin market and the unmarked black door at the top of the steps. “Better yet, I know where to find Keirran.”

* * *

“Well, that’s just all kinds of ominous,” Kenzie remarked as we stood at the bottom of the steps, gazing up at the black door. “Didn’t I see this once in
American Horror Story?
”

“This place feels wrong.” Annwyl gave the buildings and especially the door a suspicious glare and shook her head. “Why would Keirran come here?”

“Let’s go ask him.” I double-checked to make sure my swords were still in place, then walked up the steps and knocked twice on the wood.

It creaked open to reveal the same redcap on the other side, who gave me an astonished look as he peered through the frame. “Well, well,” it mused as the shock faded and was replaced by eager hunger. “What do we have here? You lost, human? You can obviously See me, so you should’ve known not to come here.”

“I’m looking for Mr. Dust,” I said, and the redcap snorted.

“How do you know that name? And why would a human need to see Mr. Dust? He ain’t got nothing for the likes of you.” The redcap bared its fangs. “Beat it, mortal. Don’t waste his time.”

“Not an option.”

“I’m warning you, boy. Get lost, before I bite your tasty little head off.”

I drew my sword. “My head isn’t the one in danger here.”

“Hold.”

A soft hand touched my elbow, making me pause. I blinked in surprise as Annwyl joined me at the top of the steps and faced the redcap calmly.

“I am Annwyl, former handmaiden to Queen Titania herself,” Annwyl stated in an even, almost regal voice as the redcap eyed her curiously. “And I wish to see Mr. Dust. The mortals are of no consequence—they are here to accompany me. The boy is only doing what he has been trained to do. Let us pass.”

“Ah.” The redcap smirked and gave me a disgusted look. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” he growled, opening the door and stepping back for Annwyl. She nodded and swept by without looking at him. I swallowed my astonishment and followed with Kenzie as the redcap’s guttural voice trailed us down the hall. “Keep your pets under control next time, lady. I might’ve eaten your little guard dog on principle.”

“I apologize,” Annwyl said quietly as we walked down the long, narrow hallway on the other side of the door. “I thought that it would be better to try to get through without bloodshed.”

“No arguments here,” I told her. “In fact, I think you should act like that more often. I mean, I don’t want you to go snooty aristocratic faery on me, but you were part of Titania’s circle. You were kind of important.”

“Once,” Annwyl said with a faint smile. “Not anymore.”

The hallway ended at another unmarked black door, and when I opened it, an even longer, thinner alleyway wound off into the darkness.

“Seriously?” Kenzie muttered. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic. Somehow, I don’t think Keirran is here to buy unicorns and rainbow dust.”

The corridor was just wide enough for us to walk through single file. I drew one of my swords, just in case anything came at us, and motioned the girls forward. Kenzie stepped behind me, taking the back of my jacket like she was afraid we’d get separated, and Annwyl brought up the rear. Carefully, we ventured into the darkness.

The alleyway grew even more winding and narrow, until it seemed we were weaving our way through a crack between buildings. Cold, hard stone scraped my chest and back, as if the walls were slowly drawing together, crushing me until I popped like a grape between them. My heart pounded against my ribs, and I imagined it was getting harder and harder to breathe. And just as I was beginning to think we should turn around before we all got stuck, I finally spotted a thin black door at the end of the crazy, twisted passage and hurried toward it.

Spitefully, the door retreated, or at least it seemed that way, drawing farther back even as we rushed forward, keeping the same amount of distance between us. Finally, after chasing the door for several minutes, I lunged forward, and my hand finally latched on to the glimmering brass knob.

Panting, I looked over my shoulder to see if Kenzie and Annwyl were still with me. They were; Kenzie still had a tight hold of my jacket, and Annwyl pressed close behind her, gazing up at the door in fear.

“I can feel the glamour through the walls,” she murmured, drawing back slightly, both hands going to her chest. “This whole place is pulsing with it. But...it’s wrong, somehow. Dark.” She shivered, rubbing her arms. “There is something evil through that door.”

Goose bumps crawled up my arms. Annwyl wasn’t kidding. Even though I wasn’t sensitive to magic, I could still feel the wrongness of this place. It slithered from the walls, closing in on either side. It seeped from the door in front of me, leaving an oily taint on my skin, making me feel dirty. I gripped my sword with one hand and the knob with the other.

“Stay close,” I whispered to the girls behind me and turned the handle.

The door creaked inward. Beyond the frame, darkness hovered like a ragged curtain, broken only by tiny yellow orbs that looked vaguely familiar. As I stepped cautiously into the room, I saw why.

Forgotten
. The lights were the eyes of those strange, shadowy Forgotten that had appeared in City Park this morning. The ones who had killed the Oracle. I could barely make them out in the choking darkness, but there were dozens of twin glowing eyes, perched on shelves, crouched in the corners of the room. And all were suddenly fixed on us.

Behind us, the door slammed shut with a bang.

I raised my sword and put myself between the girls and the Forgotten, hoping the strange, shadowy fey wouldn’t swarm us like ants. But the Forgotten didn’t move, though I saw their glowing eyes shift focus to Annwyl, standing between me and Kenzie. I remembered what the Forgotten had done to her before; drained nearly all her glamour when she was held prisoner by their queen, and I tensed to slice them down if they tried anything like that again. But they stayed where they were, and I took a quick glance around the room.

My eyes weren’t adjusting to the clinging darkness like they should be. Even though I saw torches flickering at the corners and in brackets on posts around the room, everything remained choked in shadow, hidden and unseen. I could make out vague impressions of sofas, shelves, a desk in the corner, but the darkness seemed almost a living thing, smothering something as soon as I focused on it, hiding it from view.

“What is this place?” Kenzie whispered beside me.

Somewhere in the blackness, a door creaked open, and footsteps thumped over the ground toward us. Two redcaps, their fangs glimmering in the gloom, stalked around a corner and stopped short when they saw us.

“What the—” Beady yellow eyes peered at me, mean and challenging. “Humans? How the hell did you tidbits find this place? Ain’t nothing here for you.”

Before I could answer, the other one tapped him on the shoulder and pointed a stubby finger at Annwyl. “There’s your answer. That one’s a Fader—I’d bet my hat on it.” To me, he said, “If you’re here to see Mr. Dust, he’s busy with a customer. We’ll tell him you’re here, so stay put till then. The rest of you blighters—” he glared around at the group of silent Forgotten and bared his fangs “—stop thinking you can sneak around back and we won’t notice. You’re real enough that the arms pop right out of the sockets if we pull, so remember that. You’ll get your fix when Mr. Dust gives it to you, not before.”

The Forgotten shifted restlessly but didn’t answer. The redcap snorted and turned away, while his friend paused to eye me hungrily, running a black tongue over his teeth. I met his gaze, narrowing my eyes, daring him to try. He sneered, spat on the floor and followed the other redcap into the darkness.

“Come on,” Kenzie whispered and stepped around me, pulling Annwyl in the direction the redcaps had vanished. “There has to be a door back here somewhere.”

“Wait!” I hissed, but they weren’t listening.

Gripping my swords, I followed the faint glow of Annwyl’s hair, past the staring eyes of the Forgotten, until we came to a small black door in the corner. Kenzie carefully turned the knob and cracked it open to peer through.

“What do you see?” Annwyl asked, hovering behind her, while I glared back at the room, looking for any Forgotten coming after us. “Is Keirran in there?”

“I don’t see anything,” Kenzie replied and eased the door open. “Come on, before someone finds us.”

They slipped through the frame, and I had no choice but to follow.

This room was better lit, but I almost wished that it wasn’t. Directly in front of us was an enormous shelf full of things you’d find in a horror film. Knives and wooden baseball bats, hockey masks, clown wigs, eerie dolls, skulls and bones. A scythe leaned against the side of the shelf, huge blade glimmering in the torchlight, and a shriveled, shrunken head dangled by its hair, spinning lazily to face us. Huge, hairy spiders crawled freely over the macabre bric-a-brac, and a large snake lay coiled around a skull on the middle shelf, watching us with beady eyes.

Kenzie pressed a hand to her mouth and shrank back, trembling, but I caught the murmur of voices from the front of the room. Carefully, I eased up to the shelf, trying to ignore the awful contents, and peeked through.

A desk sat against the far wall, a pair of redcaps standing on either side. Seated in the chair was a tall, spindly man with pale skin and dark hair that writhed atop his head like shadows. His ears were pointed, his eyes completely black, and he steepled his fingers under his sharp chin, appraising the cloaked, hooded figure standing across from him.

“I apologize for the delay,” the man said, his voice a slithering whisper that reminded me of snakes and insects and other unpleasant things. “Business has been quite busy of late. I normally do not get such esteemed visitors to my humble shop. My clients are usually exiles or, more recently, the scores of fey you saw outside. I cannot imagine you would need what I offer.”

“It’s not for me,” said a quiet, instantly familiar voice, and my heart leaped to my throat. Annwyl stifled a gasp, and I put a warning hand on her arm. I almost lunged forward to grab the hooded figure myself, but something made me pause. Something about him was different. Even though it was the same calm, polite tone I recognized from before, his voice was cold, and the two redcaps near the desk were eyeing him in fear.

The man behind the desk blinked slowly. “And are you certain I have what your...friend...needs?” he asked. “I normally do not deal with middlemen—if the client has need of my merchandise, they come get it themselves. The price depends on many things—how long they have been exiled, how close to the Fade they are, how soon they need it. All of this affects price, as I need to know how potent a mixture they should have. Your friend should really be here.”