Faerie (4 page)

“No,” he said again, pushing her away, but not too roughly, just a nudge to get her to back off, the way one would ease back a child or animal that was getting too boisterous. One thing was certain, this boy was determined that nothing was going to stop him from getting to Lily.

“Come on now, Connor, back to your seat,” the carer said again, coaxing him gently. Lily looked down at the name tag: Minnie Crumb – and a more apt name couldn’t have been found for her.  She reminded Lily of a startled bird. “I’ve never seen him react like that to anyone, he’s usually very placid. That was very bad, Connor. Say sorry.” Connor turned to her as if only just seeing her, confused, then he looked back at Lily.

Lily looked into his soft green eyes and she knew, just knew that he really was like her  – Seelie Shee. It wasn’t possible, couldn’t be possible... but he was fey, the only other of her kind she had ever seen. He was on the cusp of his teens and twenties, tall and slender, typically fey. He was wearing a faded
Star Wars
tee shirt, Chewbacca little more than a fuzzy blob, and Han Solo with more wrinkles than Yoda. His frayed jeans hung like an army surplus tent around his legs; from his shoulder dangled a rather mutilated
Toy Story
carry bag. He was hiding, just as she was, but Lily didn’t even think he knew he was doing it, his glamour some kind of instinctive survival response. She tried to see him as they saw him, and got a vague impression of another him, but it was too elusive to grab a hold of the image. She saw very dark spiky hair, a hedgehog cut, his face innocent and pure, green eyes that held her captivated. More than that she felt an instant kinship with him – a feeling so strong that it overwhelmed her every thought and feeling. She suddenly understood how a mother felt when she saw her new born baby for the first time, a daughter finally reunited with a parent after years apart. And she knew that this boy felt the same.

Lily, seeing that this was quickly going to get out of control, stood up and moved towards the boy, staring at him, still hardly able to believe what she was seeing. The carer was more insistent now, calling her friend over to help.

Connor tried to move forwards again, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. This time it was the other carer, and she meant business. She was a squat, square woman, with a face like a rabid bulldog, large boned and formidable, who would have looked more at home patrolling a prison yard than working in a care home.

“Do as your told, Connor, or you won’t get any TV tonight. Come back to your seat.”

Lily thought that even if the programme in question was a 3D, all singing, all dancing, naked beauty pageant, Connor would have still found Lily the better deal.

He looked down at the hand on his arm as if it had personally offended him and shrugged it off. Lily sent out a desperate thought to him to stay back, not to cause trouble, and his expression suddenly changed. He had heard her, she was certain he had. He just stared at her, and she got the distinct impression back that he understood and backed off a little.

“My name’s Lily.” she said. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

The other residents from the home had taken an interest now and were crowding around, which was probably a blessing as it took the heat off of Lily’s new admirer a bit. Lily smiled and said ‘hello’ to them, a bit overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Story Time seemed nothing but a distant memory, totally supplanted by this new and wondrous curiosity; they all seemed fascinated by her. Her braid was gently tugged, her face explored, her glasses threatened, but it was all done with gentle fingers. Could they see what she was? She had the firm conviction that they could see that she was somehow different, at least.

Connor reached out with gentle fingers and touched Lily’s glasses, trying to take them off. She put her hand over his to stop him and just the touch of her hand seemed to be enough for him. He gazed at her in wonderment, and Lily knew that he could see her for what she was. She reached out to him, and could feel his thoughts, not words exactly, but a kind of impression of words, warning him to be careful.

“Well, you certainly seem to be popular,” Bulldog Face said, and did Lily imagine it or was there just the hint of bitterness in her voice? She looked down at her name tag – Mavis Crichter. A hard name for a hard woman. Connor moved forwards and took Lily’s hand, slipping his fingers into hers and holding on with a firm, ‘I’m not letting go of you any time soon’ grip.

“I think it’s the glasses,” Lily said, flushing a little, but laughing. “They seem to like me, perhaps I could come to the home and visit some time?”

As if anything could keep her away.

There was a moment’s hesitation from the squat woman, and for an instant, just an instant, Lily got a very strange and very disturbing glimpse at this woman’s deeper thoughts. What she saw there she didn’t like, not in the least. There was a definite shadow in this woman’s soul and although Lily couldn’t exactly understand or recognise what it was, she knew that it was something she didn’t like very much.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Crichter said. “We have a very strict routine and most of the kids don’t like anything different being introduced into the mix – it unsettles them.”

Lily was pretty certain they did have a great many visitors, family, health workers, doctors, delivery men, and Lily knew, with absolute certainty that this woman had some hidden agenda in refusing her a visit. Unfortunately, the fact that the kids were all still manhandling Lily with great enthusiasm, did a great deal to bolster this woman’s case. Crichter’s resistance made Lily all the more determined.

“I don’t mind, really, they aren’t doing any harm. They seem to like me. I could read to everyone, or bring my recorder and play for you all  – I think you’d all enjoy it.”

The woman’s square shoulders went back, her jaw setting in determined resistance.

“Well, write in and we’ll see if we can arrange something, but I don’t think it’s going to be possible. It’s obvious that you’re unsettling them.”

This was said with unmistakable disdain. This woman had one serious chip on her shoulder – scrub that – she had a whole stone quarry. Lily felt her hackles rising, even though Crichter did have a point. She tried to dig deeper into her mind to see if she could fathom why this woman was being so obstructive, but there was a steel wall up now, behind her eyes, that Lily just couldn’t penetrate. This woman was hiding something. The smaller woman was already marshalling the other kids away and back to their seats; most of them compliantly obeyed without making any fuss.

“Why don’t you go back to your seat, Connor. We can see each other another time,” Lily said.

And this time she thought he understood, sensing on some level that they needed to be cautious.
I promise, we’ll see each other again soon, but you must trust me.  Do as they say for now.
Lily thought to him.

Connor just stared at Lily for another long moment and then said:

“Sorry.” and went back to his seat, his movements uncertain, as if half of him were resisting, still looking back over his shoulder at her every couple of seconds until he was firmly back in his seat.

Lily smiled at him and waved, packing up her bag, but as she stood to leave, she sent a final thought out to him:

“We are both the same. We are both fey. I’ll come to you soon. Stay strong.”

Connor turned, smiled and gave the tiniest of nods. He understood.

Chapter Three
.

Lily left the library, elated, so excited she could hardly keep it contained.

She had found another like her. After all of these years of exile, of dreadful loneliness, she had found not just another of her kind, but one who had to be her kin, a member of the Summer Court, and stranded here just as she was. That had to be more than a coincidence. It was almost too good to bear; she skipped along the road almost yelling out her joy, lost in promises of things to come. Her head was buzzing with thoughts and feelings that vied for her attention like needy children. She would have given anything to find out more, to stay with him and try to find out where he had come from, who he was. One thing was certain, they were alike in almost every way – their hair and eye colour, their complexion. Was it mad of her to think that he might be her brother? They looked enough alike. And did he actually know what he was? There was no doubt that Connor seemed to recognise her as one of his kind as well, but how was it that he was so lost? What could have happened to make him lose his sense of true self so completely? She had sensed so much confusion in him, so much sadness and... fear. She had no doubt that whatever was going on at Hawthorn Lodge wasn’t good, and it made it all the more urgent that she get in there somehow to see him and find out what was going on. If they wouldn’t let her visit legitimately, then she would bloody well break in. One thing was certain that woman Crichter was hiding something and whatever it was Lily was determined to uncover it.

But that was for the future – all that really mattered now was that after all these years she was no longer alone.

Lily had known for years that she was different, of course, not a changeling exactly, because she was never swapped for a human infant, just left on someone’s doorstep, wrapped in just a shawl, like some erstwhile Harry Potter or bottle of milk, although thankfully to a wonderful woman, Maggie Mckenzie, that she was pleased to call ‘Mother’ for the first eight years of her life. Maggie had always known, though, known what Lily was, but had loved her all the more for it...

...because Maggie was a witch.

It had taken Lily a while to fully understand who, and what, her mother was. In the very early years, she had just been a woman who had some strange eccentricities, but as Lily had been brought up with them, they seemed quite normal to her. She just knew the Maggie did things a little differently to everyone else. To begin with, her clothing was fairly unique – she’d literally wear any scrap of clothing,  whether it seemed to match or not, oddments she’d bought at jumble sales or in charity shops, none of which really went together. They were never chosen carelessly – Maggie actually planned her disastrous ensembles, but Lily never found it strange. Maggie’s hair was always scarlet, or blue or green; Lily couldn’t ever remember seeing it as anything other than rainbow bright, and not once did a bottle of hair dye touch her mother’s head. Fey weren’t the only creatures that could perform glamour. Lily’s own clothes had always been a case of more luck than judgement. Those sorts of things never bothered Maggie – or Lily at the time. The locals all knew that Maggie was odd, and never tried to hide it – and of course they considered Lily odd as well – guilty by association.

Maggie was witch by blood and birthright – the daughter of a witch, who was the daughter of a witch, who was the daughter of a witch... back to time immemorial. She was the offspring of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the old race, but so interbred now that little of the original blood remained in her. There were no pure Tuatha Dé Danann left – they had long since died out. Maggie had taught her everything she knew about magic and about Otherworld – about the creatures, gods and demigods that existed in those in between places, about the Hidden People and about her kind. She had always told her that one day Lily would go back home, but she also taught her how to protect herself while she was in exile.

Maggie’s death had been the greatest blow Lily could ever have experienced, a tragedy that totally shook her world to its foundation and left her drowning in an ocean of misery. Maggie had been her shelter from the world of men, someone who shielded her from the harsh realities of this existence. The only person that had known what she was. Her death had traumatised Lily in so many ways; she hadn’t only lost her mother, she had lost her guide and mentor, her protector and she had been left alone and vulnerable with no possible hope of being able to cope with it. And yet she had coped. She had realised immediately the danger and done everything she had to do to protect herself. The innate craftiness of the fey had stood her in good stead, but it had been so very hard.

After Maggie’s death, Lily had been moved from one foster home to another, never really settling or feeling that she belonged.

Lily was so lost in thought that she almost forgot to stop off and pick up the iron chain. It was still there, protected by her charm. It was heavy and she couldn’t lift it, so she dragged it the rest of the way home, puzzling over how she could sneak it past Claire and into her bedroom. She could make herself invisible – well, not actually invisible, of course, that would be ridiculous, but she could make it so that people couldn’t see her, even if they were looking right at her – rather like Dr Who and his Tardis; what did he call it? A perception filter? Whatever, it worked. She’d used it many times to get herself out of trouble. Yes, she could sneak past Claire easily.

When she arrived back home, Claire was in the living room totally ensconced in some soap opera or other, her feet up on the sofa, completely lost to this world –  she wouldn’t have noticed if a herd of elephants trampled through the house. Lily sometimes thought that Claire lived more of her life in TV land than she did in the real world. She supposed that fey or human, all creatures needed a world they could run away to, to escape unpleasant realities.

There was a dreadful smell coming from the direction of the kitchen and Lily realised, with sinking heart, that Claire had cooked dinner – thankfully a rare occurrence. It happened from time to time when Claire had watched a cooking programme on TV and wanted to try her hand at something exotic ‒ and usually only because she fancied the chef.

The ironing board was set up next to the sofa, a basket of laundry dumped on the sideboard, with the iron nestled on top; there was another huge pile on the armchair. Lily sighed and realised that she was going to ironing all bloody evening, while Claire nibbled her way through several bars of chocolate, enjoying the vicarious goings on in
East Enders,
Emmerdale
,
Inspector Morse
and
Midsomer Murders
. And she suddenly realised that for all of her moaning, she would miss it.

Liam and Sarah were playing quietly together in the corner, crayoning their colouring books, knowing full well that it wasn’t a good idea to disturb Claire when she was trying to watch one of her programmes – which was most of the time. Strangely enough it was Liam that was the most mature of the two, and he tended to take care of Sarah, rather than the other way around. Sarah was such a sweet child – a good child, but not that bright. Liam was already able to read his ABC book right through and Lily encouraged him; she’d tried to teach Sarah to read, but she already realised that it was a lost cause; the poor little mite just couldn’t grasp even basic letters. Lily would read to them and tell them stories about the fey and Otherworld and Claire would frown disapprovingly, telling her not to fill their heads with nonsense. Lily had often thought that if she could get back to Elphame she would kidnap the children and take them with her; they would be much happier there than here with Claire.

Kieran was nowhere to be seen, probably wanking in his bedroom as usual – his latest hobby, so it seemed, judging by some of the noises she’d heard coming from his room at all hours of the day and night. In a funny sort of way, she supposed she’d miss him as well.

From behind her perception filter, she could watch all of this as if she were somehow not a part of it, an observer, and she realised that was what she had always been really, because she had never really been a part of this family. She sighed, and grabbing the corner of the tarpaulin she simply walked through the hall and up the stairs, desperately trying not to clank too much as she bumped her precious load up the steps. She deposited the chain under her bed and arrived back downstairs, just in time for the programme Claire had been watching to finish. Claire leapt up and grabbed a pillow case from the pile on the chair, pretending that she’d been slaving away all afternoon.

“I do wish you wouldn’t creep up on people like that – it’s not natural.” Lily tried to rein in the smile, without much success, Nothing could upset her today. Claire gave her a cursory glance, head to foot and said, “You look pleased with yourself.”

“Well, term’s nearly over, and I think I’ve got good exam results – I’m starting a new life; I should be feeling pleased with myself,” Lily said. Claire gave Lily a look that would have soured milk

“I’ve got a new girl coming any time, so it’s going to be a real madhouse. I really wanted you out by the time she gets here. I don’t want you hanging around while I’m trying to get her settled in.”

Lily just huffed a little laugh.
Nice to know you’ll miss me.

“I’ll make sure. I don’t have much to pack, anyway, a boy from school is going to help me move my stuff. We can move it all in a couple of trips.”

“Have you been to see the new place yet?”

“No, I’ll probably go tomorrow. I’m really nervous about starting out on my own. It’s going to seem weird, and I’m going to miss...” she was going to say ‘the kids’, but she change her mind at the last second and said, “miss you all.”

“Well, you need to spread your wings and stand on your own two feet,” Claire said, mixing clichés the way a barman mixes cocktails. “It’s a big world out there. You should think about doing yourself up a bit, though. You’re not going to get anywhere in life looking like little orphan Annie. Buy yourself some new clothes, get a make-over. You could look all right with a bit of effort. I mean, you’re never going to be Angelina Jolie, but anything’s got to be an improvement.” Lily did smile then.

“Thanks for the encouragement – and I’ll certainly think about a make-over.”

Claire gave her a hard-won smile, and seemed content that she’d passed on divine pearls of wisdom to Lily that would certainly change her life for the better.

“Oh that reminds me, some woman came round earlier looking for you.”

“Social Services?” Lily asked. She had been expecting a visit from her social worker for the last few days, just making sure that she was all ready to move and had everything under control.

“I doubt it, she didn’t look like a social worker to me, more like an X Factor wannabe.”

Lily frowned her puzzlement.

“What did she want?”

“She wouldn’t say, just asked if you were here, I said no, and she said she’d come back another time. She gave me this to give you.” Claire reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a slip of folded paper. Lily took it and looked down at it, her frown deepening. The paper was just a scrap torn from a notebook, and the contents drawn by hand in black felt tip pen, but neatly done, and easily recognisable as what they were. There were three chess pieces along the top, the white king and queen on one side and the black king, toppled on the other. Underneath were the words:

Take heart. The game is nearly over.

Lily just stared down at it for some moments, trying to make sense of it.

“What was she like, can you describe her?” she finally asked.

Claire shrugged and lit up another cigarette. The pillow case went back down on the pile.

“She was young, a proper tart, blonde, loads of make-up, dressed like a tart as well, all tits and bum. There wasn’t enough dress to make a tea towel.”

Claire never had been that observant and Lily thought that she probably wouldn’t get much more out of her than that, so she left it there. It sounded as if it might have been one of the three Bs, but why would one of them come here and give her this? It didn’t make any sense. The message didn’t really make much sense either, but the fact that it had arrived today of all days had to be significant. She and Connor were Seelie Fey, undoubtedly members of the high court. Could they be the king and queen? Not in actuality of course – Lily had no delusions that she was anything special, certainly not royalty, but weren’t they the obvious candidates to be represent the white king and queen? And the black king? One of the Shadow People – the one that attacked her every night? It made as much sense as anything else, and the message did hearten her. She just wished she knew who this mysterious stranger was.

Lily walked through to the kitchen to find Kieran was already sitting at the table, waiting for his dinner. He totally ignored her as she walked in, staring intently at his iPad as he demolished half a civilisation with gleeful malice.

“Hi,” Lily said.

No answer, just another legion of barbarians biting the dust. He was such a pain; Lily would have been quite happy if he’d been drowned at birth – on the odd occasion she’d even toyed with the idea of drowning him herself. Of course, she would never do it, but just imagining it made her feel better. She’d tried to make allowances for him, telling herself that he’d had a very troubled childhood. He had, there was no denying that; he had been sexually abused by his father, beaten by his drug addict mother, and really hadn’t had much chance of becoming a well balanced individual. Sometimes Lily did feel sorry for him, but he seemed to be intent on making everyone hate him, as if he had to keep acting the role that fate had allotted him, even when that particular play was over. He'd only been living with them for about a year, and he seemed intent on causing as much disruption as he could. Lily was surprised that Claire hadn’t sent him back with a return form saying ‘damaged goods’ tied around his neck.