Into the Wildewood (27 page)

“Is Brine coming back?” Raven looked around suspiciously. “We can just get you a sandwich or something.”

“The green twerp is hiding from Little John.” Keelie smiled a little at the memory of Brine running away. “I was told to guard the pickles.”

Raven shook her head. “Not good to be the object of Little John’s ire.”

Laurie watched a group of girls go by. Two of them had intricate designs painted on the backs of their hands. “Look, there must be a henna shop. Maybe they do belly button piercing, too. You can get yours pierced, Keelie.”

“I can’t. Dad will kill me.”

“When did not having a parent’s approval stop you?” Laughter tinged Laurie’s voice.

For a moment, Keelie and Laurie glared at one another. Then the angry looks faded as both of them realized how much the other had changed. An awkward silence hung in the air.

Here Laurie stood, dressed in all the things that would make her fit in at Wildewood. It was like she was searching for something, trying to find a place she belonged. But once the Faire was over, Laurie had to go home to California, while Keelie had the real thing. She remembered how Dad had tousled her curls, the way he had smiled lovingly at her before he left this morning, even though he was really mad at her. Something melted on the inside, making her very aware of how much she was loved, and how much she loved Dad.

“Hey, stained glass. Maybe I can find something for Mom before we eat. See you guys in a bit.” Laurie pushed her green cape over her shoulders and made her way to the shop, drawing admiring glances on her way.

Keelie watched her go, then stared at the wood rings on the barrel. She’d touched it before: oak from the Ozarks. She touched a small round indentation on the barrel and her fingertip glowed green. Whoa! Quickly, Keelie jerked her hand back. She didn’t want any branches to sprout from the wood. She lifted her head to see if anyone had seen.

Raven was moving the pickle catapult up and down. “Have you launched a pickle? It might help with sales.”

“Maybe it would.” Keelie cocked her head. “You don’t hear a harp, do you?”

“Elia up to her tricks again? I saw the pickle turn in midair.” Raven shook her head. “Why is she allowed to get away with stuff like that? Elianard must be really powerful. I don’t think she’s around now, though. Try one.”

Keelie was tempted.

Laurie returned. “There are some seriously beautiful pieces in that shop. Mom would love that big unicorn window, but it costs a mint.”

“I saw it earlier, and you’re right, it’s gorgeous.” At least they were speaking to each other.

“Keelie’s going to launch a pickle,” Raven announced to some passersby, who stared curiously.

“I’m thinking about it.” Keelie looked around. No sign of Elia.

“Aw, come on, Keelie, one pickle. I want to see you do it.” Laurie checked out possible targets. “How about throwing one toward the Maypole? No one’s there now.”

Keelie wanted to impress Laurie. Earlier in the day, she’d been fearful that Laurie would think working at the Faire was a dorky thing to do, but now Laurie seemed genuinely interested. Keelie was still in touch with her human side. She could still have fun like Laurie.

She pulled the lever back, and held it down with both hands as Raven attached the end to the hook. Then she grabbed a pickle and placed it in the catapult.

Raven jumped onto the path and called out for attention. “Hear ye, hear ye. Come witness the amazing Pickle Launch. Catch the pickle and win another! Hear ye!”

Keelie rolled her eyes. Yeah, like people would line up to field pickles out of the sky. But when she looked up, a crowd had gathered and others were coming.

She lined up the catapult, making sure the pickle would fly away from the shops, then picked up the mallet. She swung it toward the hook. “Pickles away!”

The mallet pushed the hook aside and the catapult arm swung up, rope flapping loosely, as the pickle flew skyward. The plink of a harp string vibrated all around her, as if she were inside a huge sound wave rather than at the Faire in the middle of the day. She watched in silent horror as the pickle arced to the side—and soared like a green missile straight for the Hearts of Glass booth and the stained glass unicorn window.

On pickle impact, the window shattered. It was as if time had been suspended. Hundreds of pieces of stained glass exploded and cascaded to the ground like a sparkling blizzard of deadly shards.

“Oh. My. God!” Raven’s eyes were wide.

Laurie stood open-mouthed. “It wasn’t even aimed that way.”

Stunned, Keelie stared, wondering what to do. The poor shop owner lay stretched out on the floor of his booth. He’d fainted from the shock of seeing his masterpiece broken by a rogue pickle-missile.

“I am so dead,” Keelie whispered.

Laurie smiled brightly. “Does this mean you get to go to lunch?”

twenty-two

“I shouldn’t let you live.”

Finch was red-faced from screaming, and she’d almost run out of steam. Keelie’s ears rang from the eighty-decibel lecture she’d endured for the last twenty minutes.

“If this was the Middle Ages, your head would be on a pike at the gates as a warning to all other bumblers and fools. You’ve cost the Faire hundreds of dollars.”

“I thought I was going to pay for it.” Keelie regretted the words as soon as she spoke them.

Finch’s hair, already standing on end, seemed to poke up higher, and her complexion went from tomato to firecracker. She loomed over Keelie like a corseted dragon, ready to spit fire.

“Insolent child! Rude puppy!” Finch was probably choking off worse expletives. She threw her clipboard on the floor and stomped her booted foot on it, cracking the press-board away from the metal clip.

Keelie swallowed. Mom would have said that it was good to transfer aggression to an inanimate object rather than to the real person. She wondered if she’d be paying for a new clipboard as well. She faced the Faire director, hoping Finch wouldn’t kill her. Did the elves have Lorems for dead tree shepherdesses? Maybe Knot would even mourn for her. Dad would date again, if he didn’t have a daughter around.

Finch sat down in her desk chair and lowered her head onto the palm of her hand. She said in a very low voice, “That window alone was nine hundred and fifty dollars.”

The world narrowed and got dark.
I will not faint.

On the other side of the room, the Faire medics were tending to the owner of the Hearts of Glass shop. He was looking better—the color was coming back to his face—but he had to keep breathing into a paper bag every few minutes, especially whenever he attempted to say “window.” It kept coming out as “win, win,” and then he had to breathe into the bag.

“Add that to the Steak-on-a-Stake costume,” Finch continued. “The dry cleaning for the Plumpkin costume, an extra large bottle of Febreze.” She punched some numbers—tickey tock, tickey tock—on her desk calculator. “That’s forty-five dollars, added to the nine hundred and fifty, that’s a total of nine hundred and ninety-five dollars. Let’s make it an even thousand. You have until the end of the day to pay it.”

Finch’s bun had come down, and strands of red hair were wild and loose. She looked like Medusa. It might have been easier to face Medusa at this moment than her. She reached into her desk drawer, pulled out a silver flask, and took a sip. “What are you waiting for? Get out of here, and don’t come back until you have my money.”

“Will I be assigned a new job?”

“No!” Finch roared, and the veins in her forehead popped out in excruciating detail. “You are fired.”

Keelie ran. Outside, Raven and Laurie were waiting for her by the path that led to the campground.

“We heard every word,” Laurie said, eyes wide. “She really let you have it.”

Raven’s expression was strange, as if she’d just discovered that a bug was crawling up her leg. Then she gave up trying to control her expression and guffawed. “You were Plumpkin?”

“It’s not funny,” Keelie grumbled. She shouldn’t have to pay for cleaning that noxious costume. She’d burn it for them for free. “Humiliating, yes. Hilarious, no.”

Laurie draped her arm over Keelie’s shoulders. “I’ll give you the money. You don’t have to tell your dad about the thousand you owe.”

A thousand dollars. Even if she’d worked full time all summer, she wouldn’t have earned that much. Keelie leaned against a maple tree. It sent waves of comfort to her. She pressed her head against its bark. “I have to tell Dad. He’ll find out.”

“Yeah, he will.” Laurie sighed, and then her voice became very cheerful. “One good thing is, if you ever move back to L.A. you can work as a theme park character. You know, I think I would like doing that. Meeting people at a theme park, you get to see real families that are happy and ready to have fun with their kids.”

Keelie remembered thinking the same thing the first time she’d ever set foot in a Renaissance Faire. All the families had looked so happy. Her mother had just died and she was all alone. Laurie might be feeling the same way.

“And one more good thing is that you don’t have to wear that hideous Steak-on-a-Stake costume ever again.” Laurie shuddered. “I saw the girls in them, and you should sue the Faire for inflicting that tackiness on you. Heck, the customers had to look at them. You could make it a class action lawsuit. Better yet, thank your cat for screwing up that job.”

Keelie smiled, and her eyes closed as she drew comfort from the tree. Laurie was working overtime to cheer her up. “I need to get back to the shop and tell Dad before he hears it from someone else.” If he was there. She also needed to make sure the oaks were still quiet, although she would have heard if they had awakened.

Nearby was a kiosk specializing in silver jewelry. Laurie was looking toward it longingly. “Do you mind if I look at this jewelry?”

“No, go ahead.” Keelie sat on the ground. She leaned back and soaked up the encompassing green of the maple’s comfort. Green-magic hugs.

Tree Shepherdess, do you need us?

Tavak?

Yes.

Did you sense Elia use magic today?

She has gone to join her father at the lodge.
The tree was evading her question.

Let me know if she returns.

Yes, Tree Shepherdess.

How are the oaks across our shop doing?

They sleep, but not for long. You need to return soon, Tree Shepherdess.

I’m on my way.

Funny. Dad should be there by now to keep an eye on the oaks. Maybe he was busy with customers. She should have asked Tavak. She recalled the dark circles under Dad’s eyes this morning. Her bad news would not help him heal.

“Doing your tree thing?”

Keelie opened her eyes. Raven had a huge smile on her face. Keelie wanted to wipe it off.

“I’m glad my life is such comedic fodder for your personal enjoyment.” She looked toward the kiosk, where Laurie was paying the silversmith for a purchase. At least her friend was good for the economic health of the Faire.

Raven shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you about the Plumpkin suit and Vernerd. They’re legendary. But by next year, you’ll think it’s funny and tell everyone about it.”

By then, Keelie would be part of the legend, too. She decided to change the topic. “Why are you here? Whatever happened to the Perilous Pirate marketing stuff you were going to do for Captain Dandy Randy?”

“The company that bought his game went with a large marketing firm out of L.A. He had no control over who did the advertising.”

Keelie frowned. “Oh. But what happened, exactly, at Doom Kitty? Janice said you loved it there.”

Raven sat down on a rock near the maple. She pulled a dandelion out of the ground and twirled it around in her hand. She looked up at Keelie. “I did. I came up with this really great promo thing for this group. The lead singer, Poison Ivy, loved it. She loved it. Then, the next day, she hated it, and it was like she had it in for me. I think she cast a spell on me or something, because everything I touched went wrong from that point on. If I filed papers, the filing cabinet drawer would slide out and crash to the floor. Sharpened pencils would fly through the air like arrows. If I made coffee, everyone would get diarrhea. There was a very bad vibe in the air. And there was this cinnamon smell everywhere. I never want a cinnamon roll, ever again. I associate it with bad things. They fired me. Told me I had bad mojo, and called in a shaman to exorcise the place.” Raven looked at the dandelion, surprised. She’d shredded it. She dropped it and wiped her hands on her skirt.

The smell of cinnamon. Keelie knew it well, but she didn’t think humans associated it with the presence of elven magic. She looked at her friend closely. Raven’s ears were in full view, with rounded tops.

Keelie leaned close and whispered, “Do you have any elf enemies?”

Raven gave her a look. “Just the usual jealous elf girl. She’s not exactly an enemy, though. She’s that way to everyone.”

“Besides her.” Keelie stopped. “Unless you think Elia is powerful enough to put a whammy on you all the way in Manhattan.”

“You know that Daddy’s Little Girl gets whatever she wants.” Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Elia. It never occurred to me. But why would she? And what makes you suspect it was elven magic?”

“The cinnamon smell. It’s a giveaway. Although—” Keelie hesitated. “I didn’t think humans could smell it.”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, think about it. Did anyone else at Doom Kitty notice the smell?”

“No,” Raven said slowly. “No one. It was pretty strong, too.”

“Raven, what do you know about your dad?” Keelie held her breath, unsure how her friend would react to such a personal question.

“I never met him. Mom’s kind of relaxed about stuff like that. It’s always been the two of us. She always said it was a guy she’d partied with when she was young. I quit asking when I was ten or so. It didn’t seem important any more. Do you think my father was an elf?”

“I don’t think so. But maybe something else. I wish I could ask my dad. He’s got a lot of stuff going on, though, plus being sick.”