The Treachery of Beautiful Things (6 page)

A furrow had formed between Jack’s eyes. He put a hand
out, but Jenny slapped it away. Puck grinned, dancing from foot to foot, reveling in this madness. And slowly, gradually, Jenny regained herself. After the absurdity of it, reality swept in on swift and heavy wings. The weight of it fell over her, forcing her onto her knees. She gasped for breath, crippled and bent double, the laughter fading as she struggled to breathe. Oh God, she was going to have to go through it all again. All the snide remarks, the sidelong glances, the psychiatrists, her mother’s accusing eyes, her wringing hands, Dad pacing back and forth for hours, the still face of Tom in all those photographs—

But this time…this time at least she knew it was real.

“You think I don’t know that?” She gulped, glaring up at Jack, smothering her hysteria. “Of course no one will believe me. They never did. They nod and smile and then talk behind your back. And they laugh. There’s nothing you can do to stop them from laughing. Isn’t even worth the effort. Have you ever had people laugh behind your back?”

Of course he hadn’t. Look at him.

His scowl, if possible, got even harder. “Then you understand,” he said to her, “that there’s no point in discussing these events when you get home. And home you must get.” He glanced at the sun hovering just above the treetops, the shadows of the leaves passing over his eyes. Jenny looked away, afraid she would punch him otherwise. “If you stay here any longer,” he said, “your danger will deepen, Jenny
Wren. You saw the queen. You don’t want to attract her attention, do you?”

For a moment Jenny almost said yes. It was a wild and reckless need, like standing on the edge of a tall building with the urge to jump coiling through her body. Now thoughts of the queen consumed her, greedily filling her mind.

“Why should I attract her attention at all?”

Jack approached her warily, animal-like again, and reached to take her hand. She snatched it away, putting both arms behind her back where he couldn’t reach them. She wasn’t making that mistake again. Jack’s expression didn’t change, but his outstretched hand fell back to his side.

“Because you’re a mortal, and she sees any mortal in this Realm as hers to take, her prize, her prey. You’re outside her power, independent of her. She has no hold over you and no way to bend you to her will unless you agree to it. And she hates that. She is Titania, the queen, who was once called Mab. They are one and the same, power upon power. Because somehow, and I don’t know how, you can see through our illusions. You can see things in the Realm as they are. Which makes you a threat.” Jenny opened her mouth to interrupt, but Jack continued. “Listen to me. I can get you to safety, but we need to go now.”

“He speaks the truth, lass,” said Puck, suddenly solemn. “Mab is old and hungry.”

Jenny rolled back on her heels, the forest seeming to close around her. The Realm? Titania?
Mab?
She’d seen the darkness lurking beneath Titania’s beauty, the flash of evil. Was that Mab? She shuddered, staring up at the trees around them.

And Jenny herself, a threat to someone—some
thing
—like that? The world seemed to twist around her. How was that even possible? Jack had deceived her, but for a reason. To get her home. Still, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to find Tom. As far as she was concerned, the
reason
Jack had lied was no better than the lie itself. No, she would not go home.

But then Jenny remembered the look in that woman’s eyes…and she knew Jack and Puck were right. She did not want to encounter the queen again. The pull the woman seemed to exert over everything around her…Jenny had felt it. Like a drug in physical form.

“Who were they hunting?” she finally asked. “That girl?”

“No. She was just…she was just hiding, like us.”

“What was she?” And how would she have looked without Jack’s spell warping the world, Jenny wondered with a shiver.

“Only a Dame Verte. Simple souls, tree guardians, gentle and kind. She was just trying to avoid the hunt. The Dames are no threat to anyone.”

“And the boy in the birch tree?”

Jack smiled, a gently amused expression. It suited him, but she wasn’t particularly pleased to see it there. It irked her.

“Most likely a birch-boy,” he said with a laugh. “They’re all over the forest. A tree spirit, like her. Harmless.”

“The Folletti weren’t harmless,” she muttered.

“No. Probably not. They like their tricks. But they aren’t malicious.” Jenny narrowed her eyes dubiously and Jack’s face grew a little pained. “They’re like children with a toy. They don’t understand that sometimes it can break.”

Jenny rolled her eyes.
Break
. Lovely. But now she was getting somewhere. At last. “And the piper?”

Jack ducked his head; the smile slid off his face and Puck shifted his feet. Did they exchange a glance? She wasn’t sure.

“The court is forever playing games of the queen’s invention,” Jack said, his words a mask over something.

“She said the piper, Jack. Who’s the piper?”

The need to know made her heart ache, and at the same time she dreaded finding out. It didn’t matter, though; Jack wasn’t going to give her a straight answer.

“Her servant, Jenny Wren. That’s all. A servant in her castle. And it doesn’t do to get in the way of the Wild Hunt. Come, Jenny, please. I’ll take you to the Woodsman and his Goodwife. He knows the forest, serves as a guide too. He will take you home before the moon has even risen. They are our friends. You can trust them.”

They reached another, much bigger clearing as the sun slid low. Jack glanced behind them with every other step and looked often at the fading light in the sky. His answers, those he would give anyway, were curt.

Jenny stamped along behind him, struggling to keep her features expressionless. She’d have to bide her time. And then find Tom herself. Maybe she could persuade Jack’s friends to help her instead. Maybe they’d set her on her way to find Tom. No matter what, she’d be better off free of Jack and his constant insistence that she go home.

The ground began to slope down to a narrow stream, and on the nearest bank there was a cottage and stables. Jenny frowned, the fleeting thought that it should be made of gingerbread brushing across her mind. The door opened and a plump woman wearing a shapeless brown dress and starched white apron came out.

“Go on.” With a firm but gentle hand, Jack pushed Jenny clear of the last trees. The Woodsman’s wife laid a bowl of cream down at the doorstep and straightened up, smiling. Her sharp eyes snagged on Jenny at once, standing bedraggled and miserable at the tree line.

The woman studied her for a second and then her gaze moved onward, behind her to where Jack still stood.

“Jack? Who’ve you brought to us?”

“A friend in need. Thought your good husband could
guide her back to the Edge this evening.” He stepped back and the forest seemed to draw in around him, shielding him from her.

“Come here, love,” said the Goodwife. “You don’t want to be among the trees come nightfall. And you look half starved.”

“She’ll help you,” said Jack, glancing up at the sky’s fading light once more. “Keep you safe. Get you—” He broke off with a curse, a sharp-edged and violent word in a language she didn’t know. When he next looked at her, he was frowning. “Wait, I should have said. Don’t eat their food. They’re good people, generous, but you can’t accept a meal they prepare. Fruit, milk, anything grown naturally is fine, but food prepared by fae hands has a way of trapping you here.” He looked at her, mismatched eyes searching her face. “Do you understand?”

This just got better and better. First he wanted to get rid of her, then palm her off on someone else, and now—

“No food. Right.” She was already ravenous, couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten, and now she wasn’t allowed to eat at all?
Had he said fae hands?
The woman looked human. But then again, she’d already discovered looks could be deceptive here.

“No pies, no porridge, anything like that. They know it, so you’ll be safe with them. But, just in case you’re tempted. Faerie food stays with you, it changes you—”

“
Faerie
food?” Jenny said, frowning back at him. This seemed to exasperate him more.

“If you take some willingly,” Jack rushed on, “you’re tied to the Realm forever, even if you manage to leave. If it’s forced on you, then the spell doesn’t work. But if you accept what is offered— Just remember.”

“What about you?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She didn’t care what he did, or what became of him.

“Me?” Jack laughed, a brittle sound now, not the sweet music of earlier, when she’d first pointed out that he was dressed in leaves…and he had deceived her with a trick. “I’m Jack o’ the Forest, Jenny Wren. I’m the guardian. My place is here. Go on. The Goodwife’s husband can guide you back to the Edge, to the gateway, and home.” He glanced toward the sky. “And don’t delay. It’s late enough already.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

A smile tightened his lips, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “I have other duties.”

Jenny made no reply. Just looked at him and pursed her lips.

She heard him sigh, and the sound almost made her smile. Almost.

“Stubborn,” he said quietly, and smiled at her, nearly laughed again. Just for a moment. But then all kindness bled
from his words. “And foolish. Go home, Jenny. You don’t understand the common dangers of our world. How can you expect to stand against the greatest danger of them all? Your Tom is gone, seven long years ago. Leave him be and go home.”

And then Jack was gone too, as if he had never been there. She couldn’t say how she knew he’d left. It was just that the forest was suddenly still and she could tell. It took on another air now, in the deepening twilight. Cold, silent. She should be glad to be leaving it, but it clung to her, enticing her back. With a curious reluctance she didn’t understand, she started toward the house.

“H
ead to the Edge tonight?” the Woodsman muttered as he dropped the logs beside the hearth.

His wife looked up from the laundry she was folding. “That’s what he said. Seems foolish though, doesn’t it?” She smiled at Jenny, who sat in one of the armchairs, her feet curled under her. “It’s late. And there’s a storm rising.”

“Well, there you go then.” The Woodsman gave a snort and sat down opposite Jenny. “You don’t want to be out there in a storm, do you?”

She didn’t want to be out there at all, not heading back toward the Edge anyway. “Maybe…maybe we don’t need to go right away,” she said as if she was only conceding to logic. A flash of guilt rose in her. She’d been gone all day. What could they be thinking at home? Or maybe they hadn’t noticed she was missing. No, they’d notice. They’d have to. They might not believe it just yet. And when they did…

Jenny pushed her parents from her mind before the guilt could rise so high it would tumble and crush her. She looked
up at the Woodsman, hoping for some sort of validation. A way out.

He smiled, a warm and pleasant expression. “Morning’s early enough, eh?”

“You must be exhausted, dear,” his wife added. “Let’s get you something to eat and a bed for the night.”

Jenny shifted uncomfortably. “Jack said not to eat anything.”

The Goodwife laughed. “Of course he did. No, you’ll have to prepare it yourself of course, but there’s no harm in some warm milk, is there? Shame though. I’ve bread and scones in the oven.”

The scent of her baking was everywhere, and Jenny’s stomach growled. Warm milk seemed like a sorry substitute, but it was better than nothing. The fire was working on her now, making her eyes heavy. She was tired, bone tired. She’d never understood what that meant before. A bed sounded like the finest luxury in the world.

Outside, the wind was rising, buffeting against the house, making the trees roar. The Goodwife crossed to the window, pulled the curtains. “He really whistled up the wind this time.”

“Every time the queen turns her back, that piper of hers is off causing mayhem,” the Woodsman replied.

Jenny jerked herself awake, staring at the woman. “The piper?”

“Yes, the queen’s piper. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you quite well?”

Jenny pushed herself out of the chair. She couldn’t go back without him. Not now, not if there was a chance they thought— She couldn’t do that again. “He’s my brother. I think. I heard him playing. I came here looking for him. It has to be him.”

They both stared at her, their eyes intently studying her, their faces grim.

“Are you certain?” the Woodsman asked. “There’s a resemblance, to be sure, but—”

“It has to be him. No one could play like Tom. I heard him, in the trees. I followed him. That’s how I got here. But Jack just kept insisting I had to go back.”

“Hush now,” the Goodwife murmured. “All’s well. We won’t send you back if you don’t want to go, my dear. If it’s your brother you’re seeking, he’ll be with the queen. Always goes back to her in the end.”

Jenny’s legs wobbled beneath her. She sat down abruptly, the air rushing from her lungs. “Then he’s here. It’s Tom.”