Flicker (32 page)

He continued to turn pages and point out the run
es he deemed most important. Trying to memorize each rune as she saw it, Lee
opened her pack and took out the four Blocks inside.

“E
arth,”
she
said, pointing to the rune on one Block. “Water. And
…
” She squinted at a rune that looked like a sideways hourglass. “What’s this?”

“Light. That other one”—he tapped a triangular rune split into three smaller triangles by straight lines—“is the Eye. It’s used to sharpen the Sight. You won’t
be needing it
.” He took the Block from her.

“I guess not.”

“Remember that those
Blocks are powerful
,” Filo cautioned. “You could do some serious damage if y
ou’re not careful.
Don’t make me regret this, Lee.”

“I won’t.”

Downstairs, the bells jangled as the front door opened. When there came a rapping on the apartment door, Filo answered it. In the corridor, Nasser and Jason were waiting.
They hurried into the apartment
without a word, their expressions serious
.

“You sure took your time
getting here
,” Filo
grumbled. “It’s almost sundown
.”

“Think we don’t know that?” Jason said,
stripping off his fingerless gloves
.
He had a split lip, she noticed.
“We would’ve been here sooner, but
we ran into some goblins hocking cursed jewelry off Seventh—you know, those rings that snip your fingers off, and necklaces that choke you. Nasty stuff.”

“And
then
, once we got the jewelry off
the goblins
, we had to destroy it
all
,” Nasser added. There was a purpling bruise high on his cheek, and
Lee
wondered just what he and Jason had to do.

“Fortunately,
” Jason went on,
“
I know a guy who hooked us up with some dragon’s breath
,
and we burned
the stuff
and threw it into the sewer.”

“I already
told
you it wasn’t real dragon’s breath,” Nasser
said in a disapproving tone
. “
Just salamander breath that he marked way up. Your friend’s an extortionist.”

“Well, it did the job just the same,” Jason said stiffly. “And don’t talk about Three-Eyed Grover that way.”

“
I don’t care what you were doing.
Late is late,” Filo cut in, crossing to the window. “And it’s between-time. Show’s about to start.”

Looking suddenly tense,
Jason
and Nasser joined him
by the window
, and Lee followed.
She felt suddenly as if she were in a library or a funeral home, some place where loud talking was not allowed.

“What’s between-time?” Lee whispered.

“Dusk or dawn—the times between day and night,
” Nasser explained. “B
etween-time is the best time to see faeries. Even humans without Sight can catch glimpses of them. Which reminds me
…
” He reached into his pocket, withdrew something small, and held it out to her.

It was a small, heart-shaped locket dangling on a cord, similar to the one Kendall used to wear. Tiny, delicate runes were carved on each face, pale against the dark wood. Lee stared, momentarily stunned by both the strangely familiar locket and the surge of affection for Nasser that she felt upon receiving it.

Apparently taking her silence as a bad sign, Nasser said, a little nervously, “Here, let me show you something.” He fumbled with the locket, opened it. A four-leaf clover was inside,
held in place by a bit of
tape. “Four-leaf cl
overs can give you an artificial
Sight,” he explained. “It’s n
ot perfect, but it’ll do
. As long
as you wear the locket,
you’ll be able to See
.”

“A
mazing,
” she breathed,
not quite believing that
he’d given
her such a wonderful gift.

“I put a preservation spell on it,” he continued, “but the
clover’s
magic w
ill still wear off
. I know a leprechaun in th
e park who’ll trade me for
more clover, though, so just let me know when it stops working.”

“Hey—” Jason pointed out the window. “Look.”

She looked. There were only a few people on the sidewalk, and
the road was strangely deserted
. There wasn’t a car in sight.

Only a sliver of sun was visible above the horizon. The air seemed very still, even here in the apartment, and Lee thought that the few pedestrians still outside felt it
,
too. They all paused and looked around; a few even seemed to shiver before ducking into the shops that lined the stree
t, or hustling away
.

When Lee put on the locket,
it was like opening her eyes for the first time.

The instant the
wooden heart fell against her chest
, the world became perfectly clear, as i
f a veil had been lifted
.
Every color was layered, deep. Lee saw hues she’d never noticed before, so rich they made her eyes water
,
yet so beautiful she couldn’t bear to blink.
It was strange to think that Nasser and Filo saw so clearly all the time. How did they stand it?

The streetlights flickered, and the twilight pulsed with all the colors of sleep.

Music began to play.
Pipes, whistles and
flutes
sang with thin, haunting voices
. A single drum began to beat.

The music seemed to be coming from everywhere
, weirdly familiar.
In her mind, Lee
kept hearing snatches of a faster song that was meant not for marching, but for dancing.

And she
had
danced, hadn’t she? Once, long ago. Lee remembered it now with striking clarity: singing and laughing and shouting, but never losing her breath; dancing for hours straight, with no need for food or rest. She had painted countless subjects on canvases of bark with brushes of prairie fire and horsehair,
but her hands never grew sore.
That was all life was, that was
life
, for all the revelers. There were no worries, no cares, no conscious
thoughts at all. T
here was only the
all-consuming heartbeat of the
dance. Even the smooth, graceful motions of painting were a kind of dance. Nothing else
had
mattered.

Then the faeries arrived, and her memories seemed very dull compared to them.

They didn’t
materialize like ghosts
or
wink
into existence like a light
turning on. They simply
were
, as if they had always been. Really, they
had
always been. Lee had just never looked for them before.
She had never Seen. But her
eyes were open now.

Silver bells announced the arrival of the mounted
procession. A row of faerie heralds
marched down the street,
blowing trumpets
, their court finery at odds with the grimy pavement.

Three faeries, two women and a man, came next. The women rode sidesaddle, their backs straight. The
young
man stared straight ahead.

The woman in the center
was glowing, lit from somewhere within.
Sunlight
pulsed beneath her warm mahogany skin. Her dark hair seemed to absorb the colors around it and throw them off, the strands
glimmering
with
hints of
reds, greens and blues.
Her dress shimmered like starlight.

“That’s the Summer Queen,” Lee whispered.
“There, in the middle.
Isn’t it?
”

“Her name is Feronia,” Nasser replied, nodding.

On Feronia’s left side was a woman whose hair was soft
green
, threaded through with
darker shoots
. H
er glow was faint beneath her skin,
and though she seemed almost dull beside Feronia, she held herself with great pride and dignity. Her dress was a frosty green.

“That’s
Cressida
,” Nasser murmured. “She’s Feronia’s sister, Queen of Springtime.”

When Lee’s
gaze fell upon the young man at Feronia’s right
, her throat tightened. His hair was
a rich dark color that seemed to hold hidden hues of blue and red and green
, and his armor looked rough, as if it were made from bark. He was luminous, smoldering, and Lee knew
without knowing
that if she could see his eyes, they would be green.

Filo must have caught her looking, because he said, “He’s the nephew of the Queens, the Summer Prince. His name is—”

“Umbriel,” Lee finished dazedly, and all three boys looked at her.

“How did you know that?” Filo demanded.

Lee shook her head. It wasn’t anything that she could explain—not now.

And then the marvelous three had passed by, and mounted knights
rode solemnly after, three by three
. One knight was particularly striking, with his broad shoulders and gold
en
hair. Lee thought she
had
painted him, in some faraway time.

The music grew steadily louder as each row of knights passed out
of sight.
After the knights marched the rest of the nobles—the Daoine Sidhe—all on foot, solemnly lifting skirts and the hems of long, sweeping robes so the precious fabric wouldn’t brush the concrete. The music’s
tempo quickened.

The
n the
other faeries
appeared a
ll at once, a blast of color and sound. They weren’t
g
raceful like the
Daoine Sidhe
, not proper
or restrained. They exploded onto the street like fireworks, blowing horns and sawing strings, flickering like shadows, bl
owing like smoke.
The tumble of faeries was almost too much to comprehend; Lee’s eyes flicked in a dozen directions, trying to take everything in.

A trio of faeries clad in tattered
black
uniforms beat
wildly
on black drums. Behind them, a squat, bow-legged toad-man in a suit jacket hobbled along. He clutched a wooden cane in one hand, and a
glass lantern filled with tiny
glowing sprit
es in the other. T
he toad-man flipped open the lantern and let a few
sprites escape. They buzzed
around his face, and he captured
one
with a flick of his long tongue. Lee’s stomach turned over.

They weren’t
all horrible, though
, not by far
.
Lee watched a quartet of
winged girls dance up the street, wondering if they were nymphs, or dryads, or elves. Was the dryad who was looking for her in this
Rade
? Had she already passed by?

Lee was so preoccupied by this thought that she barely noticed the rest of the
Rade
as it swept down the street. When the last crowd of faeries finally disappeared around the corner, their music lingered behind them like a phantom.
A strong wind rattled all the windows on East Teric Avenue, and then they were gone.
Lee shivered.

Filo spun toward her. “How the
hell
did you know Umbriel’s name?”

Without a word, Lee crossed to the table. She opened her sketchbook, holding it up so Filo could see her half-finished sketches of Umbriel. “I’ve been drawing him for days. I just couldn’t remember who he was until now.”

“You were favored by Umbriel?” Filo asked,
his blue
eyes narrow.

“What does that mean?”

“Did he like you? K
eep you with him a lot, with his other humans?”

Lee shook her head. “I’m not sure. I remember sitting with him and the others, and
I remember painting them
, but it’s all mixed up.”

“I’ll bet you were one of his
pets
,” Filo said quickly. “A favorite human. You would have stayed among his private group—friends, guards, other humans he liked.
He must’ve taken a shine to you.
It was probably because you’re an artist. They would have loved to have someone who could paint their portraits.
They’re so vain.
”