Land of Verne (20 page)

“The Green Fairy?” Quinn said. “Never heard of it.”

“Sounds like it’s in the city somewhere.”

“But you need to get out of the Academy.”

“I’ll need a diversion,” Grim said. “I need Lord Quinn,” he said with a sly smirk.

“But I
am
Lord Qui― oh…,” he said, “I understand. You need
Lord
Quinn.”

The two of them rose.

“Please be careful,” Quinn said. “You’re the first friend I’ve ever had. Or, the first
real
friend anyway.”

Grim smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” he said. “In the meantime, I need you to find out who did this, Festrel or Eevenellin. And once I’ve left, tell my sister where I’ve gone and why. Maybe she can figure out some way to help. Give me five minutes and then start.”

Quinn nodded and Grim left him there.

Grim skidded through the aisles and remained close to the entrance of the Library. Within moments, he heard what he was waiting for.

“I am Lord Quinn of Owen Manor!” Quinn yelled. “I cannot accept these living arrangements any longer. I demand to speak to Madam Malkim about this!”

A few city constables who had been posted in the Library ran to the commotion with Madam Tyne leading them. The coast was clear and Grim pushed open the side door and slipped out into the fresh air. He sucked it in, feeling almost refreshed.

The streets were bare. The lampposts gave off a bluish-white light that reflected off the slickened streets. The moisture in the air settled into Grim’s bones. There were no moons or stars in the sky. The thick cloud cover had taken care of that. Yet despite the lack of life on the street, Grim couldn’t help but feel that there was something there, watching him. He looked for the strange bird that he had seen across the street, or the cloaked man.

There was nothing.

He stopped. A couple of sewer rats scampered across the road behind him. An alley cat, or maybe it was Pringles, was perched upon a steel railing. It paid him no heed, more interested in the rats.

Grim moved on, determined to make haste. He pulled his jacket about him to ward off the night’s chill. Three small dirigibles sped overhead.

He looked at the street signs, one at a time, yet none were Absolution Street. And none of the buildings had signs that read
The Green Fairy
.

Grim ducked into an alley at the sound of something coming up the street. One pair of boots and a walking stick that tapped the ground at a hurried pace. He stuffed himself between some old crates that smelled like bad cabbage and waited.

The footsteps turned into the alley towards him, and Grim shuffled back, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was coming. All he could see were shiny boots and a pointed walking stick.

Grim turned and ran, twisting and winding through alleys. The footsteps continued behind him.

The passageways funneled Grim between large buildings, yet never seemed to lead him anywhere, or at least not to any street. It became a maze of darkened laneways and slippery cobblestone corridors. He tried various doors.

All locked.

The footsteps quickened. Grim ran, his feet sliding.

Until finally he came upon a door. On it was a metal emblem of a girl with emerald wings.

He yanked on it, and it opened.

Then a large, meaty hand reached out and tugged Grimwald Doyle inside.

Chapter 21

The hand that had grabbed Grim placed him down and the door slammed shut behind him. It belonged to a Troll and his hand and arm was as thick as the rest of him.

“What’s a human boy doing in these parts?” he asked. His voice was low.

Grim stuttered, looking up at the size of the creature. His head nearly touched the ceiling.

“I’m looking for the Green Fairy,” he replied.

There was some faint chuckling among the crowd. Grim looked around the dimly lit place. It was a pub with a smattering of characters: Pixies, Sylphs, Kobolds, and Trolls. They all had sinth parts to them. Then Grim put on his goggles.

The room was packed with the Unseen: Sprights, Dryads, Mewts in addition to the others.

They all turned back to whatever they had been doing and a low hum of chatter and activity filled the place.

“Well, you found it,” the Troll said. “Bit young for a pint, aren’t ya? And a little bit too human for this place, if you know what I mean.”

Grim shrugged. “I’m looking for Arabus.”

“Hmm,” said the Troll. “You’re not likely to find him here.”

Grim sighed. He was getting desperate. How was he going to save the others?

“But I was told I could find him at the Green Fairy.”

“Like I said, boy, you won’t find him here, but I think if you talk to that Spright over there, she might be able to help. Her name is Mistra and she knows a little about whom you seek.”

Grim looked to the Troll’s pointing finger. It aimed towards a woman whose presence shimmered in the distance. She hovered over the floor, much like Madam Phoebe, except Mistra didn’t seem to have any sinth parts.

“Thanks,” Grim said and walked in her direction.

He slipped through the crowds, worming his way through the Unseen. Some shoved him as he walked through and muttered something about human garbage.

The Spright sat down at a table and motioned for Grim to join her. She’d been watching him approach.

“Good evening,” she said. Her voice was soft and musical. “I saw Gorg pointing you towards me. How may I be of service?”

“I need to find Arabus,” he said.

She chuckled. “Well you won’t find him here.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I was told to come here.”

“Who told you to come here?” she asked.

“Not who. What. It was this,” he said, holding up the figurine.

She snatched the device and hid it below the table, checking to make sure no one had seen it.

She leaned closer and whispered. “Does anyone know you are here?”

“My friend Quinn, and probably my sister and Aunt Patrice by now,” he replied.

At the mention of his Aunt’s name the Spright’s eyes widened. The folks at the table beside him suddenly silenced.

Her lips pressed right up against his ear. “Patrice is alive?” she asked.

Grim nodded. “You know her?”

“Patrice is a common enough human name, but a Patrice that is connected with this device is rare. Do not play tricks with me boy.”

Grim shook his head. “I’m not.”

“I suggest you come with me.” Her body suddenly took on a different presence. She solidified and her hand grabbed Grim firmly and yanked him towards a staircase that wound upwards. A number of eyes followed them with some muttering and whispers.

She pulled him into a little room. Mistra made him sit while she hovered.

“Where is Patrice?” she asked. Her voice was not so musical or soft any more.

Grim gulped. “Madam Malkim’s.”

“What is she doing there?”

He shook his head. “She’s watching over us while our dads are looking for help.”

“Dads?” she said. She held up two long, delicate fingers. “As in two dads?”

He held up the pocket watch and showed it to her.

“Great Gormella’s Theurge! You’re one of the true heirs to Harland Manor!”

Grim nodded.

“And you said Patrice is ill? What is it?”

“The Scourge.”

She paced. “How can Arabus help you?”

“I need Jinn blood. Apparently he knows how to help me find a Jinn,” Grim said.

The Spright chuckled. “Of course he knows where to find one, he
is
a Jinn.”

“A Jinn?” Grim swallowed. “Is he one of the ones that’s been seen in town?”

Mister fisted her hands on her hips. “We’ve heard those rumors too.”

“But Jinn blood was found at Madam Malkim’s.”

“That’s not good, that means the Darksworn are here. You need to take extra care.”

“So where do I find Arabus?”

“No one has seen him in years. Not since the last of the Mystics disappeared. He has to be summoned. And if you have this device that must mean ...”

“I can summon him with this?” Grim asked.

Mistra cocked her head. “You mean you don’t know?”

Grim shook his head. “What?”

“Do you see the symbol underneath?”

Grim nodded.

“It is the Mystic’s Insignia. This device is useless except in the hands of a Mystic or the Darksworn. Where did you get this?”

“It’s my Poppa’s.”

“Did you take it from him?”

“No, he gave it to me.”

“Well, if your Poppa gave this to you freely then he knew what you were capable of.”

Grim felt dumbfounded.
Did that mean he could summon?

The Spright sighed. “I don’t know how you’re going to do this. I’m not a Mystic. The only ones who know this art now are the Darksworn, and you don’t want to get caught up with that lot. The only thing I can tell you is that you need to find the Mystic’s Circle. Since the decline of magic, almost no one can summon outside of the Mystic’s Circle. I suspect you’re going to need that little device too.”

Grim nodded. “Where is it?”

“There is a little village called Pefferlaw, west of here. Go south of there about an hour’s ride. In the woods, in the shadow of the Tower of Celest, you will find a circle of trees that do not look like the others. Within lies the Mystic’s Circle.”

“I need to get moving,” he said.

She stopped him. “You can’t go downstairs. I saw others watching you after you mentioned Patrice’s name. She has enemies, even among the Unseen, as I imagine you will too. You need to leave through the window,” she said, pointing.

Grim got up and opened it. He looked down. The ledges were wide enough to walk on comfortably. It led to the building next door from which he could use the grappling hook to lower himself to the ground.

“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

The Spright waved him off. “Just take care of yourself and cure Patrice. I will let others know that she still lives. And one other thing: don’t go alone.”

Grim nodded. He’d have to find a way to take Rudy and Quinn.

Grim leapt across the ledges, and with his grappling hook rappelled down the building with ease. He walked in the shadows of the streets, staying away from the alleys. Still the town was quiet and there were no sounds of anyone, or anything, following him. With light steps he treaded along the cobbled roads and stopped in front of the orphanage. He heard whisperings at the side of the building and wondered who would be there at a time like this.

Both voices were low, but one was coughing, like she was about to lose her lungs.

Grim tiptoed up to the side of the building and peered around the corner.

It was Aunt Patrice. She looked deathly ill. She was talking to Dorian.

What’s he doing loose?

“Aunt Patrice!” Grim called. “What you are you doing?”

She gave Grim a scolding look, one Grim knew all too well.

“Grimwald Doyle, what in Gormella’s Theurge do you think
you’re
doing?”

He blurted out the truth. “Trying to find a cure of the Scourge,” he said.

His Aunt scrutinized him with her one eye. “The Scourge?” She paused. “That’s what Rudolpha said. Are you sure?”

He nodded. “We found it in a book.”

She assessed him again. “Who do you think was responsible for this?”

Grim lowered his head. “Eevenellin or Festrel.”

The old woman pressed her lips together and Grim knew that look.

“You don’t believe me,” he said.

“I have said no such thing,” his Aunt retorted, “but I do find it questionable. Are you certain of this, child?”

Grim looked his Aunt straight in the eyes and nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And the cure?”

“Jinn’s blood.”

She rolled up Grim’s sleeves, looking at his skin. “Do you have the figurine that your Poppa gave you?”

He nodded.

“And have you been to the Green Fairy? Did you find Arabus?”

“No. I have to find the Mystic’s Circle.”

“I expected as much. He’s not been seen in a very long time, but it was the best place to look when all else fails.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “How do you know about Arabus and the Green Fairy?”

“There isn’t time for that now. I wish I had time to tell you things you need to know, but that will have to wait until you return.” She studied his face.  “I cannot allow you to leave unescorted. Dorian, you know what to do. I leave Grim’s life in your hands. See that he returns safely and I will tell everyone that you have escaped.”

The Gargoyle nodded. Grim said nothing but looked at his Aunt with pleading eyes. How could he tell her Dorian might be in on the plague with him standing right there. He might turn them both to stone.

Aunt Patrice sighed. “Child, be careful. And trust Dorian ― he knows more than you might think. Do you know where you’re going?”

Grim nodded. “Near a town called Pefferlaw.”

She shook her head. “Too far. There is another Mystic’s Circle, an unknown one here in the City of Harkness. Or perhaps not so unknown since it seems the Darksworn have been summoning within the city. There is an old city park, lost to time and the city buildings that have grown over top of it. Take the sewers. It will not be easy to find, but Dorian has a good sense of things. Good luck, dear. And hurry.” She looked at her own skin. It was coated in brown splotches. “I would accompany you myself, but my own health will not allow me to take such a journey. This plague has rendered me almost useless. Dorian knows the sewers and the underground well enough to help you.”