Julie Kagawa - The Lost Prince

“What? In this weather? No, Todd, you’ll catch your death.” Mom shooed me out of the doorway and gestured to the half-phouka on the steps. “Come inside and dry off, at least. Do your parents know where you are?”

“Thank you.” Todd grinned as he scurried over the threshold. I clenched my fists to stop myself from shoving him back into the rain. “And yeah, it’s okay. I told my Mom I was visiting a friend’s house.”

“Well, if the rain doesn’t let up, you’re more than welcome to stay the night,” Mom said, sealing my fate. “Ethan has a spare sleeping bag you can borrow, and he can take you both to school tomorrow in his truck.” She fixed me with a steely glare that promised horrible repercussions if I wasn’t nice. “You don’t mind, do you?”

I sighed. “Whatever.” Glancing at Todd, who looked way too pleased, I turned away and gestured for him to follow. “Come on, then. I’ll get that sleeping bag set up.”

He trailed me to my room, gazing around eagerly as he stepped through the frame. That changed when I slammed the door, making him jump, and turned to glare at him.

“All right,” I growled, stalking forward, backing him up to the wall. “Start talking. What’s so damned important that you had to come here and drag my family into whatever mess you created?”

“Ethan, wait.” Todd held up clawed hands. “You were right, okay? I shouldn’t have been screwing around with the fey, but it’s too late to go back and undo … whatever I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I told you, I don’t know!” The half-breed bared his canines in frustration. “Little things, nothing I haven’t done before. Teensy contracts with Thistle and Violet and Beetle to help with some of my tricks, but that’s all. But I think something bigger took notice of us, and now I think I’m in real trouble.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I just …” Todd stopped, frowning. “Wait a minute,” he muttered, and pushed his hood back. It flopped emptily. “Violet? Where’d she go?” he said, stripping out of the coat and shaking it. “She was here a few minutes ago.”

I smirked at him. “Your piskie friend? Yeah, sorry, she couldn’t get past the ward on the front door. No faery can get over the threshold without my permission, and I wasn’t about to set that thing free in my house. It doesn’t work on half-breeds, sadly.”

He looked up, eyes wide. “She’s still outside?”

A tap came on the window, where a new line of salt had been poured across the sill. The dripping wet piskie stared through the glass at us, her small features pinched into a scowl. I grinned at her smugly.

“I knew it,” Todd whispered, and dropped his wet jacket onto a chair. “I knew you were the right person to come to.”

I eyed him. “What are you talking about?”

“Just …” He glanced at the piskie again. She pressed her face to the glass, and he swallowed. “Dude, can I … uh…. let her in? I’m scared those things are still out there.”

“If I refuse, are you going to keep bothering me until I say yes?”

“More or less, yeah.”

Annoyed, I brushed away the salt and cracked open the window, letting the piskie through with a buzz of wings and damp air. Two faeries in my room in the same night; this was turning into a nightmare. “Don’t touch anything.” I glowered at her as she settled on Todd’s shoulder with a huff. “I have an antique iron birdcage you can sit in if anything goes missing.”

The piskie made irritated buzzing sounds, pointing at me and waving her arms, and Todd shook his head. “I know, I know! But he’s the Iron Queen’s brother. He’s the only one I could think of.”

My heart gave a violent lurch at the mention of the Iron Queen, and I narrowed my eyes. “What was that?”

“You have to help us,” Todd exclaimed, oblivious to my sudden anger. “These things are after me, and they don’t look friendly. You’re the brother of the Iron Queen, and you know how to keep the fey out. Give me something to keep them away from me. The common wards are helping, but I don’t think they’re strong enough. I need something more powerful.” He leaned forward, ears pricked, eyes eager. “You know how to keep Them away, right? You must, you’ve been doing it all your life. Show me how.”

“Forget it.” I glared at him, and his ears wilted. “What happens if I give you all my secrets? You would just use it to further your stupid tricks. I’m not revealing everything just to have it bite me in the ass later.” His ears drooped even more, and I crossed my arms. “Besides, what about your little friends? The wards I know are for all fey, not just a select few. What happens to them?”

“We can get around that,” Todd said quickly. “We’ll make it work, somehow. Ethan, please. I’m desperate, here. What do you want from me?” He leaned forward. “Give me a hint. A tip. A note scribbled on a fortune cookie, I’ll try anything. Talk to me this one time, and I swear I’ll leave you alone after this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And your friends?”

“I’ll make sure they leave you alone, as well.”

I sighed. This was probably monumentally stupid, but I knew what it was like to feel trapped, not having anyone I could turn to. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll help. But I want your word that you’ll stop all bargains and contracts after today. If I do this, no more ‘help’ from the Good Neighbors, got it?”

The piskie buzzed sadly, but Todd nodded without hesitation. “Deal! I mean … yeah. I swear.”

“No more contracts or bargains?”

“No more contracts or bargains.” He sighed and made an impatient gesture with a claw. “Now, can we please get on with it?”

I had major doubts that he could keep that promise—half fey weren’t bound by their promises the way full fey were—but what else could I do? He needed my help, and if something was after him, I couldn’t stand back and do nothing. Rubbing my eyes, I went to my desk, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out an old leather journal from under a stack of papers. After hesitating a moment, I walked forward and tossed it onto my bed.

Todd blinked. “What is that?”

“All my research on the Good Neighbors,” I said, pulling a half-empty notepad off my bookshelf. “And if you mention it to anyone, I will kick your ass. Here.” I tossed him the pad, and he caught it awkwardly. “Take notes. I’ll tell you what you need to know—it’ll be up to you to go through with it.”

We stayed there for the rest of the evening, him sitting on my bed scribbling furiously, me leaning against my desk reading wards, charms and recipes from the journal. I went over the common wards, like salt, iron and wearing your clothes inside out. We went over things that could attract the fey into a house: babies, shiny things, large amounts of sugar or honey. We briefly discussed the most powerful ward in the book, a circle of toadstools that would grow around the house and render everything inside invisible to the fey. But that spell was extremely complicated, required rare and impossible ingredients, and could be safely performed only by a druid or a witch on the night of the waning moon. Since I didn’t know any local witches, nor did I have any powdered unicorn horn lying around, we weren’t going to be performing that spell anytime in the near future. Besides, I told a disappointed Todd, you could put a wrought-iron fence around your house with less effort than the toadstool ring, and it would do nearly the same job in keeping out the fey.

“So,” Todd ventured after a couple of hours of this. I sensed he was getting bored, and marveled that the half-phouka had lasted this long. “Enough talk about the fey already. Word around school is that you were a total douche to Mackenzie St. James.”