With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (10 page)

—Sarojini Naidu,
Village Song

I
settled Babs onto a pink and yellow fuzzy blanket at the foot of my bed. She stared up at me with that same trust in her eyes. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be okay.” I took her plump little hand and she wrapped it around my finger.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I’d make good on my promise. According to the Internet, there were all sorts of protective charms to keep a baby safe from faeries, and whoever made them up happened to be sadistic: open scissors over the bed, a pin in the clothes, an iron nail under the cushions. A circle of fire. What had the charms against these baby stealing faeries really been before history got them all twisted? I had a feeling that these dangerous trinkets were only good as weapons against whoever tried to take her, not for luck. Still. If there was anything that kept
the hag
at bay, I’d try it.

Speaking of names I couldn’t say, things would’ve been a whole lot easier if Babs had a real one. Apparently a proper christening kept the baby safe . . . and a chain of daisies. I felt ridiculous, but I placed a chain of daisies Hobs had gathered fresh from my backyard over her head anyway. Her stubby fingers immediately got tangled in them.

Hobs’ eyes widened in dismay and he pulled away from my computer, his bare feet stomping over the clothes on my floor. “What are you doing?” He peeled the daisies off her and chucked them. “You’ll keep the faeries away.”

“Well, apparently it didn’t keep you away.” I found myself staring at his sweats cut off at the knees. His legs were cut like a biker’s, except he had some hairy legs. I tried not to laugh. It had only been a few hours. “Where do you get your clothes?”

“Magic. It really comes in handy, you should try it sometime.” He pushed away my mountain of clothes and flattened on the ground next to us. He tickled Babs’ soft cheek. “Just how were you expecting her to fall asleep if you keep the faeries away?” He met my eyes, but I had nothing to say. I was tired of worrying. Well, I guess I was just plain tired all around. He inspected my worn face and read my expression. “I’ll watch her.” He reached over to me, using his thumbs to rub away the black mascara from under my eyes, like he wanted to tease me, but his better judgment won out for once. He pulled back. “You can’t go to sleep, can you?”

I shook my head. No matter how much I tried, it wouldn’t work. It was ironic punishment. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, and I couldn’t break this vigilant guard I had over Babs. I was her keeper, which meant I would die of exhaustion.

Hobs regarded me for a moment. “Is it like you have a pea in your bed?”

Despite my pain, I felt the sides of my lips tug up. “I’m a little old to be wetting the bed.” He looked confused, having no idea what I was talking about. “You know, pee . . . it means, well, sometimes . . .” My jokes always got lost in translation, and apparently they didn’t have the same slang in faeryland. Hobs just looked blank and I threw my head back and laughed anyway.

He humored me with a chuckle and swept my room with a glance. “Where’s your shadow?”

“It wandered off somewhere. I just hope it doesn’t go too far.”

Hobs tried to hide his worry. His worry—not the fact that he was hiding it from me—surprised me. “Well, at least your shadow seems to be doing alright.”

He had a point. Babs was too quiet and I found myself confiding in Hobs, something I wasn’t used to doing with anyone, but I was freaking out here. I tugged his arm. “Something’s wrong with Babs. Maybe she’s sick too. I’m worried about her. Doesn’t it take a while for changelings to adjust to the human world? Don’t they get sick or something?”

“This one? No. She’s been here before.”

“What? How?”

Hobs bit his lip cryptically. “The trick is to switch the baby before the eyes change. And then when the eyes turn from blue to brown . . . no one knows the difference.”

My own eyes narrowed.
I thought he said that faeries didn’t care about taking humans?
“So, whose baby is this really?”

“Not mine.” By now I was used to his flippant responses. Babs’ small fingers curled around the swirly toy and she sucked on the handle, giving me a close up of it. The snow was gone from the toy’s face, and instead it mirrored the room. Wait, no, it didn’t really. I sat up. It was another room, and there was a white wicker crib in it, a very grand one. A boy about three years of age with blond hair stood next to it in respectful silence. Hobs? It looked like him, but it would have to be years ago. And he looked so solemn.

I stole the toy from Babs. She watched me curiously. “It’s how mirrors work,” Hobs said. I jerked when I found him looking over my shoulder again. He dimpled, not pulling back, just stared into the mirror with me. “In the Sidhe, you see what you want to see in these. Just pick one up and the vision appears.” He let out a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, a real vision, not uh . . . you. Anyway, in the Otherworld, when a faery gives you a fey stone like this, you see what they want you to see. It’s pretty primitive, but it does the job.”

“The faery queen wants me to see this?”

After a moment, he nodded. For some reason, he was nervous.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I sat down on the end of the bed to focus on the toy. What was she trying to tell me? Unlike the mirror in the dressing room, I was watching a picture, instead of it watching me, which made me feel better about it. Through the screen, the faery queen swept past the cradle in her light of blue and silver robes. Onagh was as lovely as I remembered. She leaned over the wicker basket. The baby’s fat fingers swatted over the cradle and caught hold of the faery’s shimmering, platinum hair.

My bare toes curled into the ragged carpet beneath me. If that kid standing next to her was Hobs, then why was Babs still a baby? Hobs hadn’t been exaggerating. Babs
really
didn’t grow. Was she really seventeen like me?

Babs held her mother’s hair adoringly. The love in her shadowed eyes made me want to cry. The real Babs’ eyes held more sadness now. The faery queen sprinkled sparkly dust over her daughter all the while bestowing on her an enchantment:

“With nurture and care, she blesses the Sidhe. Her name’s good fortune, she’s winsome and free. Beloved of mortals, her light sparkles and shines. She rules with love through the ravage of time.”

The faces on the swirly toy dulled at Onagh’s words until I saw my own image reflected back through the mirror. “No wonder everyone wants her,” I said under my breath. According to this record, Babs was meant to rule the land of the faeries, maybe over the mortals, too. I turned to the baby and shrieked when I saw rodents crawling all over her. Before I could stomp them into the ground, I got a better look. Wait, not rodents—tiny little faeries. There were about a dozen of them, and they were quite busy.

Hobs leaned back, watching the scene enfold with a content look. “They’re just silkies. They’re putting our baby to sleep.”

My eyes darted back and forth between the strange things. They were beautiful creatures, but I didn’t trust them. And I wouldn’t hesitate to smash them like bugs if they stepped out of line. They seemed completely unaware of the danger. I took a shaky breath. “Is this a baby shower or a cradle robbery?”

“Relax. This is usual night time procedure for babies.” Hobs stood up and draped an arm around me so he could lead me over. “Let me introduce you. The one in the little blue dress is Dormette. She gives the children pleasant dreams.” Dormette glanced over at us and gave a delicate curtsy. She looked like a miniature French maid. “Ole Luk Oj blows dust into their eyes and necks to make babies fall asleep.” A crotchety old faery leaned heavily on a walking stick, gathering the dust from the air in his wrinkled palms. It would take him a long time to get down to business. He was an old one. “And Nanny Buttoncap tucks them into their beds.” Nanny Buttoncap was exactly how I imagined a British nanny to look, mobcap and all, though ten times smaller. She fretted over Babs, cooing and tucking. I was fascinated, and a little creeped out. “And then there’s Lull. She lulls babies to sleep.”

Lull danced around the little faery princess. Babs tried to grab for her, most likely to suck on her, but Lull spun expertly away. Her brown faery skirts brushed against Babs’ cheek. The baby smiled in response, squinting. I relaxed. Well, if Babs liked them, I suppose I could put up with these hyperactive action figures. Smiles on her were rare.

“Bean Tigh!” Hobs shot forward.

An elderly woman had walked into the room. She was human size, but Hobs looked genuinely happy to see her. Her rosy cheeks were dimpled and she looked like a female version of Santa Claus. She closed my window with highly capable hands. The beads on my curtain shifted slightly as if caught by a sudden wind. The woman winked at me. “Won’t do to have a draft, dearie.” She straightened Babs’ blanket with small, wrinkled fingers. Nanny Buttoncap looked affronted next to her, and I relaxed. It was like watching dolls at play. The firefly sized faeries sang lullabies over Babs, barely a buzz, but still comforting. Babs’ eyes closed.

If only the spell worked on me.

Hobs straightened, looking as guilty as sin. I lifted my head to see a tall woman stalk into the room. She ducked under the doorjamb, her head crooked at an awkward angle. “Muma helps lost children get back to their parents,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t expect her to come.”

“Oh, so we should’ve kept the daisies on Babs?” I angrily reached for them, but Hobs’ hands were on my arm, preventing me from making any fast moves. Muma’s eyes narrowed. She was stout as she was tall, and all of it was muscle. “She’s not taking Babs back to anybody unless I see where she’s going.” I didn’t bother to lower my voice. “I’m her keeper. I don’t care if this lady tries to stomp me into the ground for it.”

“Muma, honey, what an unexpected surprise.” Hobs was already doing his fast talking. He pushed from me and guided the giant away. Her plain skirts rustled behind her. “What are you doing here?”
As if he didn’t know!

 “Where have you been hiding her, Hobs?” The woman’s voice was like thunder. I winced and forced myself to stand my ground. “This one’s been gone a long time.”

“Now, Muma.” He tried to defend himself like some schoolboy with a strict teacher. I wondered how many altercations he’d had with her over stolen babies. It looked like he’d had plenty of practice. “It wasn’t me.”

While they squabbled, the mirror on the swirly toy shifted into a cloudy picture. I gaped at the scene unraveling through it. Cackling laughter assaulted my ears, it was the same laughter that came from the hag in the theater. Since it was in Babs’ toy, it was like watching the history channel, almost as safe as a documentary . . . well, a
little
less
safe considering the circumstances.

Hobs stepped in front of me, trying to shield me from Muma’s view.

“Get out of my way.” Muma shoved him away to stare at the toy herself.

Hobs forced his way back in again and argued with her. “Muma, we have orders from the queen of the Seelie Courts. Everything is fine.”

“Oh, do you?
You
?”

The toy was alive with drama. Porcelain white arms clasped a baby close. One glimpse of the fuzzy hair and I knew the baby was Babs. I turned to her lying on her back on the pink blanket. She was still here, yet the image was so real. The real girl watched me somberly with half-closed eyes. After a moment, I broke away and went back to the toy. This must’ve been when Babs had been stolen from her mother. The menacing form held tightly to the sobbing baby as they flew above the rooftops. I listened to the hag’s angry curse and winced under it.

“Unless you love, you cannot rule? Then you must live among these fools. T’will sow distrust, the fear of loss. So bind your heart or face the cost. You cannot love for if you do, the love of mortals fades from view.”

“No!” I shouted. I stood up, rattling the toy. I knew those hands. They had come for me too. For some reason the hag wanted both of us. Hobs and Muma stopped arguing to stare. My fear for Babs made me aggressive. I couldn’t allow what the hag had done to me to happen to this baby. “She cannot love!” I swung around to Hobs. “Did you hear this? Our baby can’t love!”

Hobs gave the toy a cursory glance then shrugged. “Of course she can. Just ignore it.” He continued arguing with Muma. “I have it under control. This isn’t . . .”

 “She cannot love or she won’t be loved? That’s the curse, Hobs! Why don’t you care about this at all?”

“What?” The words seemed to sink in and he gripped my arm. “She can’t love?
At all?
No one told me about that!” Hobs ripped the toy out of my hand and shook it roughly until the scene came back so he could peruse it for himself. “Oh,” he said in some relief. “It just concerns mortals. What do we care?”

I heard that faeries were selfish, but what a jerk!
“She can’t love me. I’m a mortal. You idiot!” I didn’t like this at all. Muma shot Hobs a disapproving look and he actually colored under it. “She will rule only when she loves?” I tried to work out the hag’s curse. “But she will never love . . . or she loses everything? Oh no, poor Babs!”