Wishes Page 8

  “You see?” Artie said. “I’m no one. I can’t even look like me.”

  “Yes, you can!” I snapped. “Believe, Artie. Not in her. In you. That’s all it takes. Now shift back to who you were.”

  “But—”

  “Just believe you can do it.”

  Artie looked as if she were on the verge of tears. “What makes you think that’s even possible?” she shouted.

  “Because that’s how magic works. First you have to believe! Then anything is possible.”

  “Not for her,” the queen said. The guards took another step forward. Thud. “She’s weak.” She batted her eyelashes. “Aren’t you, Artemesia dear?”

  “Axes,” I said, and all the guards’ axes, twenty or more, followed the line of my thoughts toward the queen, whose smile faded when the blades threatened to cut off her head.

  They stopped just short of her neck, then flipped around and came flying at Artie and me at supersonic speed.

  I knocked Artie to the floor, and the axes whooshed over our bodies and struck the far wall. “I said shift,” I muttered, staring at her with my meanest witch eyes.

  She balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes. “And I said I can’t!”

  Thud.

  “Yes, you can! You just—”

  “Don’t kill my friend,” Artie said, standing up abruptly. “Let her go. She can live with her wishes. And I’ll never disobey you again, I swear.”

  “No!” I whispered. “That’s not . . .” But it was no use.

  The queen only narrowed her eyes.

  “Please, Majesty,” Artie said. “You don’t need another fairy.”

  “Perhaps I will, dear. To replace you.”

  Thud. The guards marched another step closer.

  The queen put a finger to her cheek, as if she were pretending to think. “But you may be right. Perhaps I won’t need either of you. But I may need more furniture.”

  She stepped aside, and I saw that the platform she was standing on was made up not of wood, as I’d thought, but bones. Thousand of human skeletons had been disassembled and turned into building materials. Now that I knew what I was seeing, I noticed skulls among the bones, the heads of those who’d come before me into the Fairy Queen’s presence.

  I felt sick. “Is that all we mean to you? Bones?”

  Thud.

  “Of course not, dear. You can offer me much more.”

  “She means your magic,” Artie said. “She’s going to take it, like she took mine. Like she always does. I thought you might be strong enough to withstand her, but . . .”

  The queen laughed. “They all believe that,” she said. “At first.”

  “I thought I’d . . . that maybe I’d be able to stand up to her too . . .”

  “You can,” I said, taking Artie’s hand. “You can take back your power—”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t you see? She meant for you to come here. You people think you’re looking for a fairy, but really, she’s looking for you.”

  “And I’ve you to thank, Artemesia, for leading her here.”

  “I came here because I wanted to,” I said. “And no one’s taking anything from me.” I turned to face Artie. “Or from you, either.”

  She looked up at me under brows furrowed with fear and shame. “Do you really think so?” she whispered.

  “I know, Artie.”

  “That’s all very brave, girls,” the queen said impatiently. “Brave and stupid.” She loosed a fireball aimed directly at Artie.

  “Do it!” I yelled, trying to tackle her out of harm’s way, but at the last instant before the fireball hit her, Artie changed into a mouse and scurried away.

  “How did you do that?” the queen screamed.

  Proudly I watched the little mouse run toward the entrance and disappear into it. Good for you, I thought.

  “It’s a trick!”

  I laughed. “A pretty good one,” I said.

  “You—”

  I interrupted her. “For three hundred years you made her believe she was powerless, but she wasn’t,” I said. “None of us ever really are.” I pointed to the row of guards in metal armor walking inexorably toward me. “Look at you, you overgrown tin cans.” My voice was heavy with disgust. “You’re free too. You just can’t make yourselves believe it.”

  Slowly their heads swiveled toward one another, questioning. But the queen snapped her fingers, and they all immediately faced front again and took another step.

  Thud.

  The queen regarded me with her beautiful, malicious gaze. “I don’t know how you managed to persuade Artemesia to become a rodent, but the fact is, you’re all alone now. She saw her chance and left you here to die.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, trying not to show my fear. I hadn’t thought Artie would just abandon me, but it didn’t matter, not really. She was free. I didn’t have to worry about her anymore. This fight would be between the Fairy Queen and me. No one else.

  Thud.

  The guards surrounded me now, and even though their weapons were stuck in the wall behind me, I wasn’t comfortable. The queen was making her move, and I could guess what it was.

  “Ax,” she said softly. The weapons all came flying back. All together, the guards raised their arms, and the axes smacked into their waiting hands.

  “That’s your magic I used, Katy,” she said. “In my domain, all power eventually comes to me. Surely Artemesia told you that.” She smiled. “I’m already feeling your strength.”

  With that, she sent one of the hanging chandeliers crashing down so close to me that I could feel the heat from the candles as they passed me. It landed square on the heads of at least a half dozen guards, who fell without a sound. As I rushed past them to safety, the others only stood there, immobile, as if nothing had happened.

  She’d turned these men, these human men, into automatons with no feelings or desires of their own. They lacked even the will to preserve their own lives. And they could watch their fellow beings—whatever they were now—fall and die, without a thought of pity or compassion. Watching them enraged me.

  I pointed at the dais where the queen was standing, that intricately constructed pile of bones and death, and made it collapse beneath her. She went down with a scream. The guards did nothing in response.

  As she picked herself up from the rubble, I directed my psychic energy to the pile of now random bones surrounding the queen, forcing them to rise up around her in a cage.

  It was an effort. She’d been telling the truth when she said that she was leeching away my magic. Everything I did happened more slowly than usual, and required a lot more will.

  “Fight her, you morons!” she shouted, and instantly the guards sprang into action, marching toward me with their axes swung backward, prepared to strike.

  “Faster!” she screamed. Their pace doubled.

  I switched tactics. Abandoning the cage I was building around the queen, I now sent a barrage of bones toward the guards. When the bones struck their armor, they made a ringing sound, like an orchestra of steel drums.

  Unfortunately, with each effort I made, I saw fewer and fewer bones leave the pile. My power was weakening even further.

  But the queen’s was growing. She was radiant as the cage of bones I’d started to make flew apart and spun around her.

  “I like this telekinesis,” she said happily, twirling inside the circle of bones. Then she fixed me with her ice-blue gaze. “Kill her,” she said.

  The axes shot toward me like arrows. I managed to divert most of them by sending them back toward the guards, who accepted the blows without any reaction. But I could feel my magic running thin. I tried to run, but I stumbled and fell. Using all the strength I could muster, I crawled toward the exit, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn’t make it all the way. T
he queen said nothing as she glided toward me.

  “I’ll . . . never serve you,” I said.

  She raised her wand. “We’ll see.” She smiled prettily.

  Then I saw her look up with a gasp. Reacting to her surprise, the guards behind her snapped to attention.

  Through the entrance stormed a huge creature that, as far as I knew, had never existed. It was as big as an RV, yellow-eyed and fast as the wind, with armored skin and thick plates covering its reptilian body as it lifted off the ground and flew overhead.

  A dragon. It couldn’t be anything else. A dragon was flying in this room, its talons so close that I felt them brush against my hair.

  And riding on its back was Peter Shaw.

  14.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. WTH? For a moment I thought that the queen had put some sort of spell on me that made me hallucinate. But I could tell by the expression on her face that she was as surprised as I was.

  “Peter?” I asked tentatively.

  “Get out, Katy!” he shouted as he swung a tree branch at the guards. The dragon blew a plume of fire at some others on his flank.

  “Get up!” the queen shouted to the dying guards. “Your job is to protect me. Me, do you understand? Not yourselves. Me.”

  I watched as Peter knocked the head off one of the guards. It rolled toward me, the metal of its visor clanking as it came to rest at my feet. I felt sick until I noticed there was no blood. There was, in fact, no head at all. The queen’s army was nothing but a collection of enchanted armor. If they had ever been real people—the bodies belonging to the bones, maybe—they had long since ceased to exist as anything other than wraiths.

  “Leave while you can,” Peter said breathlessly, hanging on while the dragon smashed its deadly tail into more guards.

  “Are you crazy?” I shouted. “And leave you here with that . . . that creature?”

  “Don’t worry about her,” he said, smiling. “She won’t hurt us. Just—”

  “She?”

  Peter scrambled off the dragon’s back as it swiveled around to face the queen, smoke and puffs of fire streaming from its snout.

  The queen backed up, every muscle in her body trembling violently. The dragon opened its mouth. Whimpering, the queen covered her face, cowering.

  Then the beast morphed into Artie, laughing like crazy. “Did you think I was going to bake you with my breath?” she asked saucily.

  “Found her outside,” Peter whispered.

  “What were you doing here?” I whispered back.

  “Looking for you,” Peter said. “As usual.”

  “Traitor!” The queen’s fingers curled into claws.

  “Think what you want, lady,” Artie said. “I don’t care.”

  She wasn’t afraid anymore. We had a chance, after all.

  I focused on a vase filled with gladiola, thinking I could use it as a weapon if the queen decided to attack Artie or Peter, but it only wobbled a little on its pedestal. I couldn’t even manage to levitate it. It was clear that the longer I stayed in this place, the less power I was able to generate.

  And the same was true for Artie. Her smile of triumph turned into a mask of pain as she doubled over, her hands over her stomach.

  “You forget yourself, Artemesia,” the queen said, tight-lipped. “You’re in my domain now. Whatever power your bravado has caused you to believe you have will wane to nothing in my presence.”

  Artie whimpered, moving her hands to her head, holding it as if it were about to explode.

  “Go!” Peter whispered harshly as he wrestled an ax away from one of the armored guards at the back of the room. “Run. Now!”

  “What about Artie?” I rasped back. “And—”

  I screamed. While Peter was fighting with one guard, another came at him from behind. He was swinging his ax now, too late for me to stop him.

  As I scrambled to help—too late—Peter went down, his shoulders pooling with dark blood.

  My strength had been weakening steadily since I’d arrived, but at that moment I think I could have moved the earth. I stared at the nearest weapon I could find—the tree branch Peter had come in with—and sent it hurtling toward the guard. It crashed into his helmet, smashing it, shearing it off his metal body.

  As the guard’s remains clattered to the floor, I staggered toward Peter until my legs gave out. My anger had allowed me one last display of power, but it was all gone now. With Peter panting and nearly unconscious beside me and Artie slumping to her knees in front of the queen, I had to face it: We’d lost.

  Thud.

  The guards were coming again. And this time, there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

  “Peter?” I whispered.

  “Why didn’t you run?” It took an effort for him to speak, I knew. I held his hand.

  “I couldn’t,” I said. “Why did you come here?”

  “Had to,” he panted. “You’re my girl.”

  He smiled then, and I could feel my heart breaking. This all started because I didn’t think Peter loved me. But he’d loved me so much that he was willing to die for me.

  And I’d been too stupid and insecure to know it until it was too late.

  I supposed it was time to give up. I had nothing left. But seeing the queen’s triumphant face while Peter and Artie lay suffering, I forced myself back up to my knees.

  The queen looked up from Artie’s writhing body to meet my eyes. “You’re mine,” she mouthed. I felt a chill run down my spine.

  Thud.

  They were close. I looked at Peter. Would they take his bones? Would they—

  A dog barked.

  My head snapped up, just as the guards all stopped in their slow procession and looked in eerie unison toward the cave entrance, where a yapping dog of no specific breed bounded in.

  “Dingo,” I whispered.

  “Woof!”

  At the sight of him, I remembered something I’d thought of while I was talking with Mr. Haversall. At the time it seemed nonsensical, just a jumble of sounds. But now I knew what they meant.

  “Esmeralda Ludovica Angelique Brittany von Schlaffen!” I shouted. “That’s her name!”

  Peter, who had been all but unconscious, looked up at me, baffled.

  Artie looked up too. “Her name?” she asked. “The queen’s name?”

  But the queen was the most shocked of all. “What . . . what . . .” Then she moaned, a low, keening sound, as her hair turned from gold to gray, and her gown from gossamer to rags.

  At that moment, the guards all collapsed to the ground, an army of fallen dolls. The chandeliers vanished. The beautiful furnishings disappeared. The golden walls changed into the damp limestone rock of a cave. Only the scattered bones of the dead remained.

  “How do you know me?” the queen rasped hoarsely. “How dare you speak . . .” Her hands trembled. Her loose skin paled.

  “She’s losing her power,” Artie said in wonder. She breathed deeply and stood up. “And I’m gaining mine.”

  I felt as if a weight were being lifted off my chest. “Me too,” I said.

  I cast a glance at Peter. He was still lying where he fell, the pool of blood around him growing larger. It was killing me to leave him then, but I had to. I had to deal with the queen while I could.

  Standing up, I summoned the bones that littered the floor to circle around the queen.

  “No!” she shrieked. She picked up her wand in her clawlike hand. “I’ll kill you!”

  “I don’t think so,” Artie said as she shifted easily into a Bengal tiger. With one delicate bite, she snapped the wand in two and then growled into the queen’s face while I finished constructing the cage.

  When it was done, the beautiful horror that was the Queen of the Fairies was no more than an ancient hag hanging helplessly on to the bones o
f the innocents she’d killed.

  “Help me,” she begged. “Please.”

  Artie morphed back into herself. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said, but I held up my hand to speak.

  “We’ll free you,” I said. “You have my word. But you’ll have to give us what we want.”

  Suddenly her pathetic, ruined face brightened. “Another wish?” she asked sweetly. “Of course, dear. Whatever you’d like.”

  Artie and I only looked at each other. “We’re done with that,” I said. “Take back your wishes. I don’t want any more.”

  The queen looked crestfallen.

  “Take them back!”

  “Done,” she said.

  “And release Artie.”

  “But I have,” she said in a wheedling voice. “Don’t you see? I’ve given her power back to her.”

  “Liar,” I said. “Artie got her power back all by herself, because you couldn’t really take it from her. You could only weaken it while she was here with you. The rest of the time, she only believed she was powerless, so she didn’t try.”

  “So there you have it,” the queen said. “No harm done, then.”

  “Plenty of harm,” Artie said. “Get out of my head, and don’t come back.”

  “Oh, that’s just your imag—”

  “Do it!”

  The queen took a deep breath. “Done,” she said.

  Artie looked around the room. “I feel it,” she said softly. “She’s gone.”

  “Yes, wonderful,” the queen said dispiritedly. “That’s all lovely. Now let me go.”

  “One more thing,” I said. “Heal Peter.”

  We all looked at him, lying motionless in his own blood.

  “I can’t do that,” the queen said softly.

  “What? Why not?”

  “I wish I could, whether you believe me or not. But I can’t. The wound is physical. And from the looks of it, mortal.”

  “Mortal?” I whispered. “You mean he’ll . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.