Page 94 of Crown of the Fae King

“Like Rowena? The Rowena dolls? I remember them. And I remember there was aThirdwho could raise the tide and swamp the enemy’s ships. My grandmother told me that one. What was her name? What was her name? Oh! Pearl. She lived in a lighthouse, near a lighthouse, and drowned herself? And when her power was passed to the next generation, that woman drowned herself in the same place, and so on. The moral of the story was to not let yerself wallow, to not follow in the steps of wallowers, somethin’ like that.”

“Do you know which lighthouse?”

She shrugged. “On the North Sea. That’s as specific as the auld woman got.”

Sounded like a pretty impressive power, like Soni’s had been, if she’d been able to raise the dead. I had so many questions about Wickham’s niece, but they would have to wait.

“Any others? No rush,” he told the witch. “Take yer time.”

“Thirds,” she muttered, over and over again, then she shook her head. “Would ye like me to call ye if I think of another?”

“I’ll check back in a day or two.”

“Ye ken what I think? I think ye should ask the Grandfather yerself.” She laughed and pushed his shoulder. “Dinnae act so surprised, laddie. I ken about yer power ofTimeandPlace. So why is it ye dinnae go back and ask him to his face?”

Wickham didn’t seem happy with her question. “There’s no one here? No elders?”

“Most cleared out, rickety bones and all, after yer last visit. Had a nice line at the door with folks wonderin’ if it was the End of Times. Those who couldn’t be placated lit out fast.”

Lit out fast? Just like a certain fairy with galaxies on her fingernails! And suddenly Urban’s fairy war was back on the front burner.

Jez clicked her tongue. “Frightened to face him? After what ye did?”

Wickham’s laugh had a nasty edge to it. “If I met him again in the past, I reckon he’d ken nothing of it.” He stood up and she held up her hands.

“Wait, love. Give me another try at her hand, will ye?”

“Jez. Believe me when I say ye dinnae want to look into that future.”

“Aw, now. I’m not so timid as that.”

I held out my hand and she took it, scooted closer, ran her finger along all the lines, then looked at the back of my hand too. I’d never seen anyone do that before. Then she grabbed my head with both hands and stared into my eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Women would kill to have your love life, pet. And for all I can see, yer progeny will go on…forever.”

Fingal popped his head out again. “Don’t ye love it? Don’t ye love it?”

That’s when I knew Jez might be a sweet, loveable pickpocket…but she was full of shit.

38

Fairies Under The Bed

Jez Sorenson told us how to find one old woman who hadn’t left town, but she warned she might not come to the door. “Sarah would have left town as well, had she the means.”

We found her house at the end of a very long driveway that wound through massive budding plants that were twice the size of a van. Anything that large in Idaho was called a tree. Wickham swore it was a rhododendron.

The roof on the small white cottage came all the way down to my shoulders. Wickham bent to knock on the door, then straightened while we waited for someone to answer. Though I hadn’t touched a thing, I got an electric shock that buzzed my toes and made me jump backward. The last thing I wanted was to step back on that patch of wet mud again.

Wickham laughed quietly. “That,” he said, “was discouragement personified.” He bent again and shouted at the door. “Impressive!” He rested his hands on his knees and stayed that way, grinning at the little window.

I counted to twenty before the door swung open with a snap. An old woman in a long white dress, with pinched lips and a scarf over her hair, stood in the opening and made a frightening face that lifted with each blink. As she stared at Wickham, however, those puckered lips relaxed, the face cleared, and her eyes lit with appreciation.

“Sarah?”

“Aye?”

“I am…Wickham.”

---