A Curse of Fire Read online

  “You won’t have to,” she says.

  She turns in a circle, surveying the room. There’s a stuffed teddy bear on the bed. She waves her arms, and more of the gold glitter emanates from them. The bear grows larger, then takes on a more human shape.

  I gasp, my hand covering my mouth in shock when I realize the bear is now a perfect copy of me. She’s even wearing my clothes. The fake me stands still, like a robot.

  “Say something,” Absinthe says.

  “What should I say?” I ask.

  “What should I say?” the creature repeats, first in a voice that sounds nothing like mine, but it keeps repeating the same phrase until it sounds just like my voice.

  “Go and take care of Mother, Imogen,” Absinthe says to the creature.

  “Of course,” my copy says. She turns, opens the door, and goes downstairs. I hear the creature say something, and Mom responds.

  How can she not tell that thing isn’t her daughter?

  “What the hell was that?” I ask.

  “A changeling,” Absinthe says. “We have been using them for millennia to take the places of the children who should be ours. They stay in this realm in order to take care of the human families while the Fae children return to Aos Sí, where they belong.”

  “Aos Sí?” I ask.

  “The Fae realm,” Absinthe says.

  “Oh, right,” I reply, as if I already knew and had just forgotten.

  “Imogen, listen to me,” Absinthe says, turning me to face her. “You belong with us. We are your people. You will learn more in one day with us than you could ever hope to learn if you stay here.”

  Honestly, she doesn’t have to sell me on this. I want to go. I called her to me, after all. But the way she acts makes me second guess my decision. Her creepy intimidating manner makes me wary. The way she wants me to lie to Mom and leave that…thing…in my place is not something I am comfortable with. I’m not sure I can really trust her.

  “Why do you want me to go with you so badly?” I ask. “What’s it to you?”

  Absinthe shrugs. “You wouldn’t believe how many halflings I have to track down every year. It is definitely a problem—how many Fae children are born in this world, I mean. But all of them belong with us. They are us. You called us to you. Before you said my name, I could feel you in the world. It’s how I found you. I’ve been tracking you for months. The closer to eighteen you got, the stronger your pull became. Since your birthday passed, finding you was a compulsion I couldn’t resist. I was destined to find you.”

  “I don’t believe in destiny,” I say. “I make my own fate.”

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  “I can’t leave my mom with that…that thing,” I say.

  Mom bursts into the room, the door hitting the wall so hard plaster dust rises.

  “Get out of here, you witch,” she yells at Absinthe.

  “You know this is the best thing for her,” the woman says. “She must come with us.”

  “I said get out!” Mom is red in the face. I’ve never seen her so emotional before, and the fact that thing didn’t fool her makes my heart warm.

  Absinthe turns to me, cupping my cheek with her hand. “You know how to contact me.”

  Turning to Mom, she straightens her shoulders, a disapproving expression on her face. “Do the right thing,” she says just before dissolving to glitter.

  “We have to go,” Mom says, reaching for my hand.

  “Jeez, Mom,” I say, pulling my hand away. “Running won’t make a difference. They found us. Give it up.”

  “I’ll never give up on you,” she says. “You’re all I have left.”

  “I know, Mom. I know. I wasn’t just going to leave. I couldn’t trust that…changeling or whatever it was. How did you know what it was, anyway?”

  “Oh…well, your father, he told me a few things about Fae ways while we were still together. Their glamor doesn’t always work on me because of that.”

  “Glamor?” I ask. “See, you know way more about Fae than I do, and I’m the one who’s Fae! I need to know more. I need to go to Callador.”

  “Callador? No, Imogen. That’s final.”

  “I won’t argue with you about this. I’m eighteen, Mom, and I don’t need your permission. I’m going.”

  “You are abandoning me after all?”

  “You spent my entire life lying to me,” I say. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty about discovering the truth.”

  “I did it to protect you,” she murmurs.

  “I know,” I say. “But you have never given me a real reason for keeping this part of my life from me.”

  While we’re standing there, the changeling trots back into the room, climbs onto my bed, and transforms back into a teddy bear. Darkness prickles up my back. Mom waves her hand at the thing, but it doesn’t move.

  “I know,” I say more emphatically this time. “But still… I need to go. I get it—Dad was a jerk and a bum for impregnating a human and then leaving us, but that doesn’t mean you should deny me the chance to know my entire heritage. If you can give me one reason—one real reason—why I shouldn’t go, I’ll stay.”

  “I…I can’t,” she says. “You just have to trust me.”

  “I’ve been trusting you for eighteen years.” I take her hand, trying to put as much feeling as possible into the small gesture. “Now I need you to trust me.”

  Mom nods, wiping tears from her face. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—”

  “It’s just time, Mom.”

  She swallows and nods.

  “I guess I just call Absinthe back?” I ask, reaching for her card.

  “No.” Mom’s tone is firm. “You are my daughter. I’ll take you. Get your stuff together.”

  I pick up my bag. “Works for me. I’m always ready to go.”

  What I didn’t know at the time, though, is that no one can ever be ready for Callador.

  Three

  “So, dumb question,” I say as we walk through the woods. “What’s a faerie? I usually think of Tinker Bell when I think of faeries.”

  “She would be more of a pixie,” Mom says, as if we are talking about something mundane like dog breeds. “The Fae encompass a wide range of magical beings. Well, what we would think of as magical, anyway. To them, using magic, glamor, controlling the elements—it’s all just the same as any other skill. Like playing an instrument or programming a computer.”

  “Magic—it’s like programming a computer,” I say, laughing to myself.

  Mom doesn’t seem impressed by my joke, so I knock it off before she decides to stop talking.

  “If it comes naturally to them,” I ask, “then why is there a school for it?”

  “Why do violin prodigies go to Julliard?” she says with a small smile. “Playing an instrument isn’t really a natural skill. Even musical geniuses have to study and practice their craft. It is the same with magic.”

  “Wait a minute—you mean… I’m going to learn how to use magic? Magic I already have?”

  Mom shrugs. “Well, what did you think you were going there for?”

  I have no idea. I want to point out that she’s the reason I don’t know, but I bite my tongue. She’s taking me there…without a fight. I don’t want to ruin it.

  “How long do you think I’ll be gone?” I ask. “Is it like college? A four-year commitment?”

  “A little longer,” she says. “I think their programs are for five years.”

  “Five years?” I gasp. My jaw drops, and I stop walking. “I’m going to be away for five years?”

  “Well, you’ll come home in the summer, and for holidays if you want, just like college.” She keeps walking.

  I close my mouth, trotting to catch back up with her. Five years! Five years in the same place. I could actually unpack my clothes. Maybe make a friend. I can’t even imagine it.

  “To be honest,” Mom says, “I’m not really sure what you can expect. I guess I always thought if I kept us moving, I would
n’t just outrun the Fae, but your powers as well.”

  “But you knew it was catching up with us,” I say. “You knew about the headaches.”

  “Ever hear of denial?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. She wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her side as we walk. “But, yeah, that’s why we were moving more often. Instead of every six months, I was moving us every two or three. It was catching up with us, so I needed to move faster. I should have known better, I suppose.”

  “You were only doing what you thought was best.” I try to sound sympathetic, even though I’m still annoyed by the whole thing.

  More than annoyed, frankly. Angry. Furious is probably a better word. I love my mom, but that she tried to hide who I am from me winds me up tighter the more I think about it. But at the same time, she’s my mom. So I want her to be happy.

  “We’re here,” she says.

  It’s dark outside, but the full moon illuminates a tree in front of us. Ivy and flowers are creeping up the trunk, and seem to form an arch on the bark.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “This is a faerie door. It’s a gateway to the Fae realm.”

  “How did you know this was here?” I ask.

  “They’re everywhere,” she says. “You just have to know where to look. Your father taught me.”

  I turn the flashlight on my cell phone on, and shine it on the “door.” I touch it, but I only feel bark and leaves.

  “I’ll have to open it for you,” she says. She approaches the tree, moving her hands over it in a pattern too quick for me to remember. A bright light begins to shine, as though through the edges of a closed door. Suddenly, it is clear to me, as well; its shape, hinges, and doorknob become obvious.

  “Okay, so, that was cool,” I breathe, barely able to contain myself. If my mom can do that without magic, then what can I do? “How did you know how to do that?”

  “Your father,” she says with a meek smile. “Although, he doesn’t know I know that one.”

  I raise an eyebrow, a little impressed she’d learned one of the Fae’s secrets without them wanting her to.

  “Is he…is he in there?” I ask, motioning toward the door. “Will I meet him on the other side?”

  “I doubt it,” Mom says. “The Fae world is far larger than this one. But when you go through, you will use his surname.”

  “Roberts?” I ask, since that is the only one I know.

  “No, no,” she says. “Flareburn. Garrick Roberts was just a human name he adopted.”

  I feel annoyed once again, but it passes. I’m sure once I’m on the other side, I will think of a million questions I should have asked, but right now, I’m coming up blank.

  “Okay, I guess I’m going now,” I say, more to myself than to Mom, but she grabs my hand.

  Gathering me close to her, she wraps her arms around me. I breathe in her familiar scent, trying not to freak out that I’ll be leaving her for the first time to make my way alone in an alien world.

  “Be careful in there,” she says, pulling away. “You can always come back to me. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

  I nod, but don’t reply. I won’t let myself cry.

  I reach for the handle, and pull the door open.

  Bright light shines through the opening. It is still nighttime in my world, so it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.

  “About time,” a man’s voice says.

  My vision clears, and I can see green—so much green—through the door. A man is standing there, and he beckons me through. I glance back at Mom. She squeezes my hand one last time before I pull away from her.

  As I step through, the man peers over my shoulder at Mom, and his mouth presses into an angry line. I guess he’s mad a human is looking into the faerie realm.

  “Don’t be mad at her,” I say. “She’s just dropping me off.”

  The man grunts, and turns to walk away. I look at Mom, but the door fades from view, and just like that, she’s gone. My life—everything I’ve ever known—is gone.

  My gaze darts everywhere, taking in this new world. At first glance, it isn’t much different from the one I just left. I’m in a forest. A very old forest. With a canopy of leaves so thick I can hardly see the sky above me.

  Everything here seems…larger. The smallest flower is as big as my hand, and most others are larger than my head. Mushrooms are wide enough to sit on, and tall enough that all I’d have to do is bend my knees to take a seat. And even though the sun is blocked by the trees, all the colors seem brighter, more vivid than before. It’s as though I’d lived my entire life with sunglass on, and I just took them off.

  I chase after the man. He’s wearing a long, tattered cape, a floppy hat, and has a dark, nicely trimmed beard.

  “Wait,” I call out. “Who are you? Where are we?”

  “You can call me Damon,” he says. “And what name do you go by?”

  “Imogen R…Flareburn,” I say.

  “Rareburn, huh?” he mumbles.

  “No, Flareburn,” I say. “It was my father’s name, I guess.”

  “Don’t you know?” he asks sharply.

  “Not really.” I give a one-sided shrug. “I only found out about all this stuff a few hours ago, when Absinthe and her goons showed up to try to kidnap me.”

  “Your mother didn’t tell you anything about us?” he asks, softening a little.

  “I already told you she didn’t,” I answer. “Before tonight, I didn’t know Fae existed, much less that I was one of them…err, you. Us?”

  Damon chuckles. “Calm your horses, girl,” he says. “You aren’t the first person to be brought to a door with no idea what’s going on.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” I say. “Guess it’s pretty common for halflings to have to be tracked down.”

  “Aye,” he says. “Too often. There are rules against fraternizing with humans like that, but you just try telling horny teenagers to keep it in their pants.”

  “I guess hormones are the same everywhere.” That, at least, seems normal.

  “True enough.”

  “So, are you like some Fae doorman or something?” I ask, not sure if it’ll offend him, but not sure I care if it does.

  “I was sent to collect you,” Damon says. “Absinthe said you’d be coming. I’m in charge of getting you to Callador alive.”

  “Alive?” The word makes me instantly wary, and I try to laugh it off. “Was there some other alternative?”

  Something slams into my side so hard I’m knocked to the ground. When I raise my head, I see Damon struggling with what looks like a large bug. He grabs it by the wings and flings it away, but it quickly recovers, flying straight toward him. He flips his cape to the side, revealing a long staff. After he pulls it free, he swings it at the bug in one quick movement. The bug hisses, but then flies away at a limp, one of its wings damaged.

  Damon walks over and offers me his hand. “That door was through Dark Fae territory, so, yes, I have to deliver you safely home.”

  There are so many questions pinging through my mind. Dark Fae? Territories? Giant flying bugs?

  But it was his last word that sticks to me. Home.

  I can’t remember the last time I considered a place home. I always considered the places Mom and I were living just where we stayed for the moment. But they were never home.

  I’m thinking all these things, trying to figure out what I want to ask Damon first, when the flying bug returns, this time with friends. I can hear their wings buzzing before I can see them.

  “What’s that sound?” I ask. A prickling feeling at the back of my neck tells me it’s danger, and I brace myself.

  “Nothing good,” Damon answers. He assumes a fighting stance, holding his staff at the ready. I have no idea what I should be doing, so I just stand next to him.

  The bugs burst from the forest, dive bombing us with no warning. Damon’s staff twirls in slashing movements almost too fast for my eyes to track. Left, right, left again, sending bug
s careening into trees. But there are too many of them. I turn from side to side, guarding my face, trying to keep them from attacking me from behind. What I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Damon yells. “Help!”

  “How?” I scream.

  Damon grunts as he beats one of the bugs to death, a black goop that must be blood splashing his face. “Forget it. She apparently taught you nothing.”

  Who? My mom? What was she supposed to teach me? She could have clued me in on what I was, but it’s not as if she could have taught me Fae combat—or whatever this was. If Damon wants to be mad at someone, it should be my dad.

  “She taught me plenty.” Angrily, I grab a stick from the ground and start swinging.

  “That isn’t going to do anything, you idiot.”

  He mutters something about stupid humans, but I ignore him. One of the bugs flies at me, and I swing with all my might. The bug is stronger than I anticipated, and the force from the blow just ends up knocking me on my butt. With an oomph, all the air leaves my lungs.

  “Good,” Damon yells. “Stay down!”

  Taking a deep breath, he moves his arms in slow, controlled motions. He grunts as fire bursts forth, roasting the bugs that are too close and singeing the ones that are farther, causing them to go screaming into the forest. Glittering sparks seem to be falling around him when he turns to me.

  “Couldn’t you have just done that in the beginning?” I stand up, wiping the dirt and grass from my pants, trying not to look sullen.

  “In a fight, always wait for the right moment to strike,” Damon says. “Let that be your first lesson, Flareburn.”

  I get the sense he’s toying with me, as if this won’t be the last lesson he personally teaches me.

  The rest of the journey is uneventful, so I just take in my surroundings. The air is so clean, it’s like breathing for the first time. When the sun peeks through the branches, it feels warm and inviting on my skin. Every once in a while, I catch Damon sneaking glances at me, as if he is looking for something on my face.