The Torn Wing (10 page)

“Toots.” Tiki nodded at his full mouth and raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, Toots, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Clara chimed in. She sat across from him, balanced on a large book. Doggie rested on the table next to her plate. “It’s not po’lite.”

With a big gulp he swallowed his food and glared at Clara. “Hush up, Clara.”

Clara stared back belligerently. “It’s the rules—”

“Thank you, Clara.” Tiki smiled her. “I think Toots remembers now.” She turned back to the new boy as if nothing untoward had been revealed. “What are your plans now, Johnny?”

He put his fork down, his brows knotted in a serious expression. “Have you ever heard of Rieker? He’s the best bloody pick-pocket in all of London.” His blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I want to work for him.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
iki and Shamus both choked on their food at the same time.

“You do?” Toots asked, his mouth forming an ‘o’ of surprise. “But I thought—” he swiveled around to look at Tiki, his orange locks shifting with his movement.

“I know Rieker,” Clara chimed in, her mouth half-full. “His real name is—”

“Clara.” Tiki cut her off and shook her head, putting a finger to her lips.

Shamus set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “An’ what would you be doin’ for Rieker?”

“Pickin’ pockets, o’ course.” Johnny smiled at Tiki. “An’ I’m good at it, too. With Mr. Rieker’s connections and working as a team—” his eyes lit up with enthusiasm— “he’s the best of the lot, you know.”

“The best of what lot?” Rieker’s voice caused them all to turn. His tall form filled the doorway. He was still wearing his long black traveling coat.

“Rieker!” Clara wiggled out of her chair and ran over to throw her arms around his knees. “Yer just in time to meet Johnny.”

Johnny’s fork clattered to the plate, as his mouth dropped open. He eyed the well-dressed aristocrat who stood in the doorway. “R.. Rieker?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rieker said with a straight face as he bent down and lifted Clara up in his arms. He stepped close and patted Toots on the back. “Welcome home, Toots. Glad to see you’re back safe.” His gaze circled the table, pausing on Tiki briefly before stopping on the visitor. “Johnny?”

Tiki sat quietly in her chair. Purple shadows colored the skin under his eyes and he looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d seen him last. She noticed he didn’t seem surprised to see Toots at all.

Johnny hopped to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste. “Johnny Michael Francis O’Keefe.” He said it so fast it was barely intelligible. “Sir.”

Everyone started talking at once.

“Johnny brought me a rose,” Fiona said, holding her flower up.

Toots pointed across the table at him. “He’s a pickpocket too. I met him down at the station and—”

“Johnny is a friend of Toots
and
Fi’s.” Clara’s high voice rang with childish innuendo.

Fiona flushed and looked down at her plate. Like normal, Shamus remained silent, leaving the chatter to the others.

Rieker raised his hand for silence. “You sound like a bunch of squabbling chickens—I can’t make out a word you’re saying.”

Tiki stood and motioned to Rieker. “I need to talk to you.” She nodded at the rest of them. “You lot carry on with breakfast.” Rieker let Clara slide to the floor and followed Tiki to the library.

“Who is he?” he said, the minute she closed the door.

“He was here when I came down this morning.” She couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice. “He stole my handbag at Charing Cross the other day. When I chased him into our old home Larkin was there hiding. He told me today that a blond lady said she would pay him to lead me in there.”

Rieker raised his eyebrows. “No surprise, really, given who we’re dealing with.” He paced to the hearth and leaned an arm against the mantle, staring down at the kindling laid in the grate. “How did he find where you live?”

Tiki moved across the room to stand near him, the skirts of her lavender skirt sweeping the floor as she walked. “He said he followed us home.”

“Possible. Unless he was sent here.”

Tiki caught her breath. “You think he might be—”

“I don’t know what to think.” Rieker pushed off the mantle and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I’m suspicious of everyone now,
especially
Larkin.”

Tiki told him what Toots had said about his disappearance and Clara’s comments about Dain and glamours. She fingered the lace on the hem of her blouse. “Clara said this Dain fellow was asking about you.” Her voice softened. “I was worried—where have you been?”

Rieker’s jaw was set and his eyes were dark with concern. “I’ve been looking for Toots, trying to get the latest news on what’s happening. Larkin won’t quit until she gets what she wants from you.”

“Do you believe her?” Tiki braced her shoulders. “Do you believe I’m Finn’s daughter?”

The shadows shifted in Rieker’s eyes and something that looked like truth flickered there. His voice was quiet, but firm when he answered. “Yes, I do, Tiki.”

LATER THAT NIGHT Tiki lay awake in the darkness of her bedroom, tossing restlessly.

“Have you made up your mind yet?”

Larkin’s voice came from within the deepest shadows in the room—the words disembodied and floating—almost as if they came from the very air itself.

Tiki jumped, but in truth she wasn’t surprised to hear from the faerie. She’d known it was only a matter of time before Larkin came back for what she wanted. The faerie’s anticipation was so palpable Tiki could almost feel it reaching for her, like fingers—or claws— ready to sink into her skin.

Tiki pushed herself into a sitting position, reaching for a night robe that hung on the bed post. She leaned over and lit the candle stub that was in the holder on the small nightstand next to her bed. Her dagger with the iron blade rested next to the candle and she slipped it into her pocket where she could grab the handle easily if necessary.

“Tell me why you took Toots to the Otherworld,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

Larkin gave her a sideways glance from the corner of her eyes, as if calculating her response. “The boy is horse-crazy and wanted to ride.” She lifted her chin and waved her hand as if to dismiss the incident. “He needed to see a
real
horse. One who can run on the wind—”

“You can’t just
take
a child!” Tiki snapped.

“I didn’t take him.” Larkin sounded insulted. “And from what I heard, he
wanted
to go.”

“He’s ten years old! He doesn’t understand the dangers.” Anger and frustration bubbled in Tiki’s chest. Larkin couldn’t possibly be that obtuse. Everything she did was for a reason. “He didn’t even know where he was.”

Larkin sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. He’s home again, safe and sound.”

“You took him because you wanted to get my attention.” Tiki said. “If you want my help, don’t ever take him again.”

“Fine.” Larkin snapped. “I didn’t come here to be lectured.” She pursed her lips as if trying not to lose her temper. “Have you thought about what I said? Have you made up your mind?”

“I have thought about it,” Tiki said. She’d hardly thought of anything else. “From what you’ve described there’s a terrible war going on in the Otherworld right now. I’m not going to show up just to be slaughtered. I’ve got responsibilities here.” Tiki’s voice wavered as she thought about leaving Clara and the others. “You’ve got to tell me what it is you expect me to do before I’ll agree to go.”

The truth was she had already decided. She couldn’t risk the life of the Queen of England if there really was some way she could stop this madman. Nor could she take the chance that someone else—like Rieker, or her family—might be injured. She’d never be able to live with herself. But she wasn’t going to let Larkin know that yet.

The faerie emerged from the shadows, her hair windblown and tangled, hanging like a golden mantle around her shoulders. As she moved, the flame of the candle shivered, throwing dancing shadows of light against the walls. Larkin appeared to float across the room to sit on the end of Tiki’s bed.

She sat oddly still, her weight making no impact on the soft down-filled mattress, as if she were simply wrought of air. Tiki was used to the faerie twirling and dancing—taunting her—a mocking smile gracing her beautiful face. Now, it was as though she were a shadow of herself.

“I’ll tell you what I can.” Larkin’s voice shifted to a whisper. “Donegal has been plotting this coup for centuries. The deception within the courts goes very deep. Back to when Finn was murdered.”

Tiki tensed at the name.

“His assassination could not have been easy to carry out. Finn had the Macanna, his own group of warriors, who protected him.” There was a thread of respect in Larkin’s voice. “Those men and women would have died for him.”

Tiki smoothed her fingers along the stitching of the quilt that covered her bed. She sensed there was much more that Larkin wasn’t telling her. “What of Adasara?”

“Addie was trying to get away,” Larkin said softly. “She managed to avoid them long enough to hide you in London, but eventually they found her too…” Her voice faded. “It wasn’t long after Addie died that they came after Eridanus.” Larkin’s tone shifted. “It’s obvious Donegal hasn’t known of you before now or he would have hunted you down years ago. Addie was successful in that much, at least.”

Tiki shivered. She wanted to ask about Rieker, about the secrets to which Larkin had alluded, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers.

A smile twisted the lips of the faerie. “We’re not so different, guttersnipe.”

“Yes, we are,” Tiki snapped. “I can be trusted.”

Larkin leaned toward her, an annoyed look on her face. “Well, I’m here telling you the truth, aren’t I? At no small risk to myself, I might add.”

“Whenever you take a risk, Larkin, it’s because you expect to gain something in return.”

A smile flitted across the faerie’s face. “True, perhaps, but if you come with me, we will both gain something.”

“If what you say is true, that I’m the daughter of Finn MacLochlan, then why don’t I look like a faerie? Why don’t I remember anything? Why can’t I
do
anything?”

Larkin’s eyes slid over Tiki, her lips turned down in a disapproving frown. “It’s not as if you haven’t been able to
see
things. You’ve seen them all your life and chosen to ignore them.” The faerie cocked her head at Tiki. “Your lack of knowledge is simply because you’ve never thought of yourself with those abilities.”

Tiki felt rooted to the floor as she stared at Larkin’s unearthly beauty. “But why don’t I look like a faerie?”

Larkin gave a graceful shrug of her shoulders then grimaced, as if in pain. “Faeries are shape-shifters—chameleons. When outside of our world we instinctively blend with our surroundings. My sister was very powerful. I’m sure Adasara put an impenetrable glamour on you before she hid you in London. As you grew, you knew no other way to look. You unconsciously shifted the glamour to grow into the image you believed to be of yourself.” The corner of Larkin’s lip lifted in a mocking smile. “But I’m sure if you were to stay in Faerie long enough, you’d shed the glamour, and begin to look
normal
again.”

Tiki ignored the girl’s barbs. “Why don’t I have wings?”

Larkin sobered and silence stretched between them. Tiki was just wondering if the faerie was going to ignore the question when she spoke. “The purpose of wings has evolved over the centuries. Long ago they were a symbol of power—the size, the shape, the color—all gave an indication of the faerie’s status within court. But over time, the importance of wings diminished. Now they’re only worn for vanity. A faerie has wings just like a mortal has long hair. It’s so they may look a certain way.” She shrugged. “I can live without them. Adasara must have torn yours off when she brought you to London.”

Tiki listened, trying to keep her face blank, to not reveal the shock that roiled around inside her at the idea that she was…not human. “But,” she finally choked out, “I don’t know the first thing about your world, these people—” she flung her hands out— “this war you’re fighting.”

Larkin grabbed Tiki’s hands and clasped them in her long fingers. Tiki couldn’t remember the faerie ever voluntarily touching her before, other than to scratch her. Her skin was cool to the touch and soft, like a stone worn smooth by water. “That’s where I can help you. I can teach you the things that you know deep inside— help you to remember.”

A deep unease stirred in Tiki’s gut. She wasn’t sure she would trust Larkin to teach her anything. “But what is it you expect me to do in the Otherworld with this … this Tara Stone?”

“It’s simple. All you have to do is touch it. When the stone roars then Donegal must relinquish the throne until Samhain.”

Chapter Fourteen