R. Anderson - Rebel

It was only a few seconds before he emerged, a tall figure silhouetted against the light. “Give me back my guitar,” he warned, stalking down the stairs with his hand outstretched. “Or I’ll call the police.”

“You don’t understand!” she pleaded with him, backing away. “You have to come with me! Now!”

“Don’t listen to her, Timothy,” said Veronica’s throaty voice from the doorway. “She’s a thief and a liar.” Her face softened as she walked out onto the step. “This has all been so confusing for you. I’m sorry. Why don’t you come back inside with me, and we’ll talk about it?”

Linden watched Timothy waver, his gaze shifting from her to Veronica and back again. The other faery’s magical disguise was back in place, and her words were laced with enticement. Though Linden’s head still throbbed from the spells she’d cast already, she knew what she had to do: She grabbed Timothy’s hand, and willed him to see Veronica as she truly was.

One glimpse of the face behind the glamour, and he recoiled. No longer an enticing twin of the girl in his mother’s photograph, but a pale, sharp-faced blonde whose beauty was far from human…

Linden handed the guitar case back to Timothy, a silent pledge of her good faith. If he didn’t come with her now, he never would.

“Run,” she whispered. “Please.”

He ran.

“We need a place to hide,” Linden said breathlessly as the two of them dashed down the street. “Somewhere with lots of people, where she won’t dare to try anything even if she finds us…”

Timothy barely heard her: His head was still reeling from all that had just happened to him. How could Veronica have made herself look like Miriam, when in reality the two girls were nothing alike? What had she meant about taking his music, and how had Linden shown up so suddenly to rescue him? The guitar case thumped against his leg as he sprinted along, shivering. He’d left his jacket back at Sanctuary, but there was no way he was going to turn around and get it now.

“I can’t see her anymore,” Linden said after a few minutes, slowing to a trot. “Maybe we’ve lost her, or else she’s given up-”

“This way.” Timothy panted, grabbing her arm and yanking her beneath the glow of a fast-food restaurant sign. Through the window he could make out a scattering of diners and a boy in uniform mopping the tile. Not exactly lots of people, but it should be safe enough. Timothy tugged the door open and wrestled himself and his luggage inside.

He was leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath when he realized Linden was no longer with him. He turned to see her still standing on the sidewalk outside, her hands pressed helplessly to the glass.

Well? he mouthed at her, beckoning, but she seemed unable to open the door or even find the handle. Frustrated, Timothy dropped his guitar and his backpack and pushed it wide for her. “Come on!”

Linden stumbled into the restaurant after him, looking ready to collapse. “I couldn’t get in by myself,” she gasped. “Not until you invited me. That’s never happened to me before-it must be because I’ve got magic now. But that means she won’t be able to come in here unless someone invites her, either.”

He wished she wouldn’t keep talking nonsense; it made him nervous. Timothy shoved his baggage beneath the table and slid into one of the high-backed booths, keeping his head low so he wouldn’t be visible from the street. Hesitantly Linden padded to join him.

“No shoes,” said the boy with the mop, pointing to Linden. “Can’t serve you like that.”

“It’s not her fault,” snapped Timothy. “Give us a minute.”

“It’s all right,” said Linden. She reached behind her back and pulled out a pair of slippers that hadn’t been there a second before. “I have some.”

She bent to put them on, while Timothy stared at her. The attendant shrugged, leaned his mop against the wall, and ambled behind the counter. “So what’ll it be?”

Reluctantly, Timothy got up and took out his wallet. He paid for two Cokes and a large order of chips, while Linden edged into the booth and sat there looking around uncertainly, as though she’d never seen a restaurant before. Their food arrived; he carried the tray to the table and thumped it down between them. “All right. It’s time you told me who you are. Where you came from. What happened back there-”

“I told you, my name is Linden,” she said. “I’ve been with you ever since you left Oakhaven.” She leaned forward and added in a husky whisper, “I’m a faery.”

“A what?”

“A faery,” she repeated. “And so was that Veronica-only she’s a bad one. Very bad.” She put a hand to her forehead as though it pained her, and the corners of her mouth pulled down. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself to you back at the House, but I didn’t know if I could trust you yet. I was just working up the nerve when I realized you were going away, and then all I could think to do was hide in your pack and hope for the best.”

Timothy regarded her blankly for a moment. Then he jabbed the straw into his Coke and took a long, deliberate sip.

“You don’t believe me!” Her face darkened with indignation. “How can you be so stubborn when you saw for yourself back there-”

“Saw what?” It had all happened so fast, he couldn’t be sure what he’d seen. Maybe Veronica had drugged him, and he’d been hallucinating. Maybe she and this girl were a team, trying to trick him into saying he believed in faeries as part of some hidden-camera television show.

“Oh, this is impossible,” the girl said with a huff. She folded her arms and sat back, her brows an angry line. “How am I supposed to explain when you won’t even believe the first thing I say?”

“Look,” said Timothy, trying to sound reasonable; there was no point upsetting her, especially if she was mentally ill. “You got me away from…whatever Veronica was going to do to me, and I appreciate that. But Linden-” All at once he stopped. “Linden,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Paul and Peri. I overheard them talking about you last night, when they thought I was asleep. But if you really did come with me all the way from Oakhaven…” His mind flashed back to all the places he’d been since he left the house: the road to the village, the station, the train carriage. “Why didn’t I notice you before?”

Linden’s lips pursed. She leaned out into the aisle and looked around, as though to reassure herself that no one was watching. Then, quick as a blink, she disappeared.

Timothy jumped, heart jarring against his rib cage, and then he heard a high-pitched voice coming from around knee level, “Look under the table.”

Dry mouthed, he leaned sideways and peered under the table’s edge to see a tiny version of Linden sitting across from him, balanced on the edge of the plastic seat. Spread out behind her back were a pair of delicate-looking translucent… wings?

“Have you seen enough now?” she demanded.

Numbly, Timothy nodded.

“Is anybody looking at us?”

He shook his head.

Immediately Linden flashed back into view on the other side of the table, human-sized and wingless again. She looked tired but triumphant. “So now you have to believe me. Right?”

Timothy grabbed a forkful of chips, just to have something to do with his hands and his mouth while he struggled for composure. When he tried to speak again his voice sounded squeaky, and he had to clear his throat: “Do they know that you’re a…er, I mean, Paul and Peri, if you know them, have they ever…”

“Of course they know,” said Linden. “The woman you call Peri-she used to be a faery herself.”

That was it, he was going insane. Timothy pushed his chips away. “I have to go.”