Taree,” I whispered, holding the base of the jackalope antler in my hand. The spell caused the opposite end of the antler to angle to the left, pointing back through the park we’d just walked through.
“We passed it,” Bess said.
“This is easier than the feelings stuff,” I said as we turned back into the park.
“If you want easy, you’re barking up the wrong tree with this job,” Bess huffed.
Another reason I don’t want it, I thought, running my hand through my once-again-black hair. A couple minutes after James left for his music lesson, I’d plunged through the portal to Flamingo Springs. Mamá had asked me to be home by 12:30. Something about her tone made my stomach squirm. It was almost too sweet.
“What if the jackalope’s dead?” I asked as the thought occurred to me.
“Maybe it is. This spell will point you there one way or another.”
“Can we use the taree spell to find the Pearls?”
“I doubt it,” Bess answered. I waited, hoping she would explain more. She glanced at me, then continued. “In order to find the necklace, we’d need a body part of someone who believed they possessed it.”
“Oh.” Definitely didn’t want to go that route.
“After 200 years, there won’t be enough left of the owner to do that,” Bess continued, as if I might be considering it. “Even then, the spell would only work if it was the object that the person cherished most. You’d end up finding their favorite book or underwear. You can sometimes use a possession to find a person, but it’s a lot harder to use a person to find a possession.”
“Probably not the best way to go about this then.”
Bess nodded. “Try it again.”
“Taree,” I said. The antlers pointed toward some bushes next to the sidewalk. Some of the bush’s leaves rustled. We walked towards it, and I pulled some of the branches away to reveal a small bunny with a pair of antlers. “Hello, little guy,” I said, kneeling down. “They don’t bite or . . . um, impale people with those antlers, right?”
Bess grunted. I took that to mean it was OK, so I stretched out my hand.
The jackalope stayed there.
I grabbed some grass and stretched out my hand.
It looked at me then looked down at the grass, then looked up at me again as if to say, Is that all you’ve got?
I tugged a branch of leaves off the top of the bush and held it out to the jackalope.
Its nose twitched and it took a couple tentative hops forward then nibbled on a leaf. I slowly lured the jackalope closer until I was able to scoop it up in my arms.
“Let’s get moving,” Bess said, glancing around.
When I stood up again, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked toward a redwood tree but didn’t see anything.
“So you’ve picked up on it finally?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“You’re being watched,” Bess said, grabbing my shoulder and pointing me back towards the street.
“Who’s watching us?”
“Not us—you.”
“Who’s watching me?” I asked.
“They’re called Sombras. A extremist group that wants the Northern Colony to become more powerful.”
“Seems pretty powerful to me,” I said, eyeing a flying semi as we crossed the street into a neighborhood.
“Less so than you’d think. You lived in the United Estates your whole life?”
“Yeah,” I said, deciding not to correct her. “My papá and mamá moved here– I mean there before I was born.”
“And the United Estates is one of the most powerful and influential countries in your world?”
I nodded, watching a pair of fairies cross the street and enter an open window.
“Remember that purple wall you asked about?” she pointed over her shoulder to where I could still see it. “It’s called the Great Barrier. If you march through it, you’ll find the Supremacy, a vast empire of elves. They hold the power and resources of our world, and they don’t like humans.”
It took a moment for this to sink in. Flamingo Springs seemed so wondrous and magical, I’d never even considered where it fit in the magic world.
“Even among humans, we’re not the most powerful,” Bess continued. “That would be the Southern colony over South America. We aren’t a major player in the world, we’re an afterthought. That’s why people believe Flamingo Springs is cursed. We haven’t enjoyed prosperity since the Pearls. The Sombras think we should be at the top. To make things worse, they see your Underlander nation underneath us, among the most influential in your world and it boils their brews.”
“But why would they be watching me?”
“Why do you think?”
I thought about it. “Because they want the Pearls of Prescott for themselves?”
“Yup.”
“Would they try to take them from me?” I glanced back to see if I could catch another glimpse of them but saw nothing.
“Absolutely.”
“Should we call the police? Or tell the mayor?”
Bess grunted. “It wouldn’t do any good. Nobody has ever been able to prove that the Sombras have done anything wrong. They’re biding their time and waiting for the right opportunity.”
“Like the Pearls,” I said.
Bess nodded. “The Sombras are feared by most but not taken seriously by authorities. This is Beatrice’s house here.”
We’d stopped in front of teal house with a white-painted porch. I reached up and knocked on the red door.
The door opened almost immediately and there was the five-year-old boy from yesterday. “Carson!”
He took the jackalope from my arms and gave it a tight hug. The jackalope looked less than thrilled and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should hang on to the antler, just in case Carson the Jackalope decided to escape again. Nevertheless, the sheer joy on the boy’s pudgy little face made me smile and feel all warm inside.
The boy’s mother appeared at the door a few seconds later. “You found him!” she said. “Thank you!”
“Sure thing,” I said, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “Have a good one!”
“You too!” the mother said, closing the door.
We walked back into the street.
“There are some perks to this job,” Bess said quietly.
Yeah, there are, I thought, still smiling. Then something inside me twisted and I felt my shoulders slump.
“That’s all for today,” Bess said, lifting her cane into both hands.
“You’re going?” I asked. I was hoping she could help me with the Pearls.
“If you get stuck,” Bess continued. “Come find me.”
“OK. I guess I better go meet Hen anyway. Thanks!” It was better than nothing.
Bess twisted her cane and disappeared.
“You know why she doesn’t want to help you, don’t you?” asked a voice from behind me.
“Hey Misty,” I said, turning. “I figure she wants me to work things out on my own.”
“She knows it’s pointless,” she said, flashing the compass she’d found yesterday. “She doesn’t want to waste her time.”
“Right,” I said, not sure really what to say to that. “Are you making good progress then?”
“If I were you, I’d quit and go back to the Underland before something bad happens.”
And now we’d moved into threats. Great. “I think I’ll stick it out, thanks,” I said. “You know, we could work together on this. If we do, I–”
“Leave me alone,” she said, crashing into me as she walked off.
“You were the one who started talking to me,” I said to no one in particular.
After dealing with Carl Hyde all last year, Misty didn’t seem too bad. Still though, maybe I should be taking her more seriously? Carl Hyde couldn’t turn me into a toad when he was mad at me, after all. Of course, I don’t know if Misty could either, but she did seem to have a bit of a mean streak.
I took a wrong turn on my way to town square to meet Hen. I eventually found Cassandra’s Candy and Cream and was able to find my way back to the main square from there.
Hen was waiting next to the fountain in the middle of the square. I hadn’t looked very closely at it last weekend. Water was shooting in complex circular patterns through midair portals. Hen seemed to be trying to throw a rock up into it.
“Sup?” Hen said, tossing another rock up. “YES!”
Hen’s rock entered one of the water streams. It disappeared through one of the portals only to reemerge with the water at the opposite end of the fountain. I watched the rock follow the water stream until it fell to the ground.
Hen glanced at the clock tower on the city hall. “Weird,” she said. “Corbyn’s late.”
“Maybe he’s running late like I was.”
“Most fairies never run late. It’s one of their Orders of Orderliness.”
“What are those, anyway?”
“A bunch of dumb rules the fairies follow. There are like hundreds of them.”
“They seem. . . .”
“Insane? Yeah. Fairies murder fun.”
Corbyn buzzed between us.
“Hey Corbyn,” I said.
“Corbyn, Corbyn. Seven minutes late?” Hen teased.
Corbyn’s face reddened. “Sir Santiago and Miss Henrietta, I am sooo sorry!”
“I’m totally razzing you, dude,” Hen said.
“I just got here too,” I said, hoping it would help. “I’m excited to meet your sister. Where did you say she works?”
“Deleea is the operations manager for the Gallant Goose,”
“She works aboard a cruise liner?” Hen asked.
“Y-yes,” Corbyn said. “But she’s a very good fairy all the same. We should hurry before she runs out of time.”
“Lead the way,” Hen said.
Corbyn buzzed off. Hen and I jogged to keep up as he led us down roads I’d never been through before. There were a couple times when Corbyn wound us down one block only to lead us back one block later. Hen and I would exchange puzzled looks each time this happened and then we’d continue speedwalking after him.
“Is this um, the most direct route there?” I asked after the fourth time he’d done it.
“I think that’s his way of asking if you’re lost,” Hen said.
“N-no,” Corbyn said. “Not lost at all. Good fairies never get lost. This is the best route, yes. Not the fastest but the safest.”
Hen looked at me and I shrugged.
A few minutes later, we whirled around a corner into a wide clearing. At the opposite end, a couple large glass buildings glinted in the sunlight.
Wait a second, not buildings—they were . . . ships?
I stared at it stupidly for several moments, trying to process what I was seeing until I realized they were air ships. More than that, it was as if the world ended right at that ledge where they were docked. I’d wondered about the edge of the flyland but seeing it like this was startling.
Several gangplanks led up into the air ships with groups of people boarding. They were the strangest vehicles I’d ever seen, shaped like gigantic blimps except that the exterior was made almost entirely of windows. The one on the left seemed to be just arriving, with gigantic sails stretching out from the sides, top, and bottom.
“Whoa. . . .” I said as I peered over the edge. I could make out the crisscrosses of several large highways and a number of larger buildings several miles below me. I can’t lie—it made me a little queasy, but I just couldn’t seem to stop my eyes from darting back over the edge.
“How are they floating in the air?” I asked.
“We’ve seen a couple dozen flying cars on our way here and now you’re asking about a boat?”
“Right—magic,” I said. “So where’s–”
“Deleea is this way,” Corbyn said swiftly. “The employee entrance is over here.” He fluttered over to where a large man with striking red hair pulled back into a ponytail stood, arms folded, glaring at anyone who came close.
“Passengers over there,” the man said, pointing to one of the other gangplanks as we approached.
“H-hi Humphrey. We’re guests of Deleea,” Corbyn said. “I’m her brother.”
“The exec?” the man said. “Are you sure she’s expecting you?”
Corbyn looked embarrassed, then leaned in and whispered something to the man.
“You forgot to make an appointment?” the man repeated loudly.
Corbyn turned a deeper shade of red and nodded.
“Nobody ain’t allowed to see the exec without an appointment in the schedule. A fairy should know that better than anyone!”
“I made a reminder for myself, somewhere,” Corbyn said. He reached into his pockets and pulled out several notebooks and began flipping through one of them.
“Somewhere ain’t good enough. Now move along.”
“Corbyn, could you contact her?” I asked as we turned and walked down the gangplank.
“No phones,” Corbyn said, looking distressed.
“We’ve only got two days. Is there anyone else who could help us?”
“Let’s just tweak the old plan,” Hen said confidently.
“How?” I asked.
“Like this.” Hen spun on her heel and ran back up the gangplank.
The guard looked startled and backed out of the way as she charged past him. He looked at us, stunned, then called after her. “HEY!! YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE!”
He tore after her, leaving the entry unguarded.
Corbyn and I looked at each other, dumbfounded, then I sprinted up the gangplank and entered the airship with Corbyn right behind me.
The corridors were bright—almost too bright. The sun reflected off the tile floor, which looked like it had recently been waxed.
“Which way?” I asked.
“This way . . . I think,” Corbyn said, taking off straight down a corridor that looked like it led around the outside of the ship. Windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling showcasing the brilliant blue sky. I ran after Corbyn, causing hanging plants to rustle as we passed. A couple fairies with clipboards stared disapprovingly at us as we passed.
Corbyn pulled a notebook out of one of his pockets and consulted it. “This way,” he said, darting down a corridor.
I started turning after him only to discover Hen hurtling at us.
“Not this way! Turn around!” she yelled.
We didn’t need telling twice. Corbyn and I turned around, joined soon by Hen.
“STOP!!!” the guard yelled as he turned a corner down the hall.
We returned to the outer hallway. The guard turned down a parallel corridor. Every time we passed an intersection, we could see him. He seemed to know where Corbyn was headed—toward the front of the air ship.
“We’ve got to get to the bridge,” Corbyn said. “He’ll head us off unless you can go faster.”
“You said . . . you like . . . to run. Can you outrun him?” Hen asked, panting next to me.
“Probably,” I said. I’d been pacing myself.
“Then go. I’ll catch up.”
“But–”
“Just go!”
I increased my pace. Corbyn kept up with me easily, his wings buzzing. I followed him down another corridor. I could see the guard 50 feet away from us. Hen darted down a corridor toward him. Corbyn round a corner and I almost ran into him as he came to an abrupt stop in front of me.
A half dozen fairies lay in our path. A dark-haired fairy in middle of the group seemed to be the epicenter of attention. Before this past week, just the mere existence of a fairy on an air ship would’ve amazed me, but this particular fairy was something else. She wore a harness with two different typewriters, upon which her hands were typing simultaneously as she gave verbal directions to another fairy. Like the rest of the group, she wore white trousers with a light green naval-looking coat. Her dark eyes were bright and cheery.
“Inform the maintenance crew that the light stones need to be swapped out for recharging on deck six in rooms 6061, 6203, 6470, 6687, 6690, and 6901. Also remind them to use the medium luminosity in the guest quarters. We’ve received seven complaints over the past 13 days that the light stones are too bright. Do you need me to repeat—Corbyn! What a pleasure!”
“Hi Deleea,” Corbyn squeaked.
“And are you the new Underlander Seer I’ve heard about?” Deleea asked, looking at me.
“Yeah, I’m Santiago Huamán-Perez,” I said.
“You both look out of breath. Wait, did you sneak in?” she asked. One of her hands left the keyboard to pull a sheet of paper out of one of the typewriters. She handed it to one of the fairies at her side who took it and flew off.
“Y-yes.”
“Is it Humphrey?”
Corbyn nodded. “He’s chasing Miss Henrietta Bloomberry.”
Deleea made a hand gesture to another fairy who immediately flew up to her. “Brexy, fill out three 374722-Lambda forms for them. Haymond, go stall Humphrey please. Sudor, take charge while I talk to my brother.” One of the fairies took the typewriter harness from Deleea as the rest of the fairies split into different directions. “What do you need, Cor?”
“Can you translate some dwarvish letters?” I asked.
Corbyn looked down at his feet.
“Oh come now, Cor, you’re not the only fairy that doesn’t know how to read and write all the arcane languages.”
“I’m the only one in the upper vipple though,” Corbyn said dismally.
“I doubt it. Most are world-class fakers. Do you have the characters?”
“Santiago made an image of it with Underlander magic,” Corbyn said.
“Underlander magic? That’s fascinating,” Deleea said.
I whipped out my phone and pulled up the picture. She flew up and looked at it while I tried to hold my phone still.
“Let me–”
Deleea was interrupted by the sound of voices and footsteps behind her. Humphrey stormed toward us, a handcuffed Hen in tow. Haymond hovered over the two of them, consulting a notebook and talking quickly. Hen was grinning from ear to ear as though this were all some great prank.
“I also noticed, Mr. Humphrey, that several of your bathroom breaks exceeded the recommended maximum time allotment of 14 minutes. Could you fill out a 525253-Baker form to request–”
“Leave me alone!” Humphrey growled. “Commander Deleea, these three have broken into the air ship.”
“They are my guests.”
“But they–”
“Lexi has their 374722-Lambda forms if you want to verify.”
“If they had authorization, why did they break in?”
“Humphrey, I appreciate your diligence in this matter. It looks like you could use a breather. I’ll schedule you for a 17-minute break. Please ask Gardner to cover for you.”
“So these three can just break and enter without being punished?”
“As they are guests of the executive officer, me, they are not breaking and entering, merely entering. Will you release my guest?”
Humphrey didn’t look happy at all, but he obediently unlocked Hen’s cuffs. She beamed at him as he shuffled away, shoulders down.
“I’m afraid he’s been waiting to use those handcuffs for a long time,” Deleea said, looking somewhat sympathetic. “There’s a reason I assign him to the employee entrance rather than the passenger ones.”
“Deleea, I’m sorry about this!”
“Don’t worry about it, little brother. And thanks, Haymond. You can go back to work. I don’t anticipate this will take more than 23 minutes.”
“Of course,” Haymond said.
Deleea hugged Corbyn in midair, causing him to blush profusely.
“B-but rule 143 on public interfamily displays of affection–” Corbyn stuttered.
“Ah brother, you know I put less than half a stock in more than half of the Orders of Orderliness.”
“I think I’m going to like you,” Hen said as Deleea led us back down the corridor. We followed her into a small office. The bottom half of the walls were lined with tiny filing cabinets while the top half was covered in heavily-laden, miniature bookshelves.
“We’ll try not to take too much of your time,” I said. “It looks like you’re pretty busy.”
“I’m never too busy for my brother,” she said, beaming at him.
“It’s been a long time,” Corbyn said.
“Yes, more than 93 days if I’m not mistaken,” Deleea said. She circled her brother in the air. “You’ve grown so much. Your wings are even bigger than mine now. And do I detect your tips coming in? You’ll have fairies clambering for you in no time.”
“You think so?” Corbyn asked, glancing back at his wings.
“I thought I noticed Ash looking at your equations during your last mathathon.”
“Mapps told me the same thing but I thought she was, you know, just being Mapps,” Corbyn said, reddening again.
“Is Mapps another sister?” I asked.
“It’s what fairies call our mothers,” Deleea said.
“Did you hear what happened to Ash’s family?” Corbyn asked, twisting his legs and shifting back and forth.
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“They were consigned.”
“What?!” Deleea asked.
“Yelree didn’t pass his advancements, so they got reassigned to the lower vipple,” Corbyn said.
“A lower class of fairy,” Hen clarified, seeing my confusion. “They get the jobs no one else wants.”
“There’s no such thing as a lower class of fairy,” Deleea said between clenched teeth.
“That happened to the whole family?” I asked.
“It’s barbaric,” Deleea said. “That’s why I resigned from the Fairy Operational Oligarchy and came here.”
“We were almost consigned,” Corbyn said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Deleea said. “The mayor would never release Mapps from her committee.”
“Mayor Featherstone put in a good word with the Oligarchy,” Corbyn said. “But one more slip and–”
“Don’t worry about it, Cor,” Deleea said. “Santiago, let’s see that image again.”
As I unlocked and passed my phone to her, I saw it was already 12:03. I needed to hurry.
“Oh yes, that’s easy,” Deleea said. Then, at seeing her brother’s face, added. “That is, I’m glad it’s a very short text or I might not be able to decipher all of it.”
I wasn’t buying it, but for Corbyn’s sake, decided not to say so.
“It says, In the Hall of the Mountain King, you will find guarded the pearls of . . .” she screwed up her face. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” I asked.
“It looks like the inscriptionist left off the last word. See these two glyphs here?”
She pointed to what looked like a funky H and an upside-down U.
“What about them?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a word that more or less means of but is usually used as a prefix for another word. Unless the other word is this massive fly here.”
Corbyn giggled.
“I bet whoever it was never finished it,” Hen said.
“It was made by dwarves,” Corbyn said.
Deleea said. “Do you notice the damage here?”
“Yeah,” I said, zooming in to the area she was pointing at. “Do you think it was filed off or something?”
“It’s hard to tell from this picture if this was intentional. But it’s possible.”
“Same difference, right?” Hen said. “The dwarf king and queen have the pearls.”
“Or had them,” Deleea said.
“How do I find the dwarves?” I asked.
Deleea and Corbyn looked at each other awkwardly.
Hen grinned wider. “I knew I liked you, Underboy!”
“The d-dwarves don’t like visitors,” Corbyn said.
“We mostly leave them alone and they leave us alone,” Deleea said.
“They eat trespassers,” Corbyn said.
“They were rumored to eat fairies but I’m skeptical,” Deleea corrected. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. The last peaceful diplomatic, non-commercial interaction between humans and dwarf king and queen was approximately 127 years ago. Steer clear of them.”
Easy for her to say. She didn’t have less than two days before having her memory wiped.
Deleea eyed us beadily. “You’re going to try no matter what I say, aren’t you?”
It was more of a statement than a question, but I nodded. She heaved a sigh and flew up to her bookshelves where she started grabbing book after book. After a couple minutes, she landed on my hand with a stack of books as long as her arm (and as long as my little finger).
“If you’re going to do this, you’ll want these.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking them in my palm. They were heavier than I expected for books so small.
“You can thank me by not getting an ax embedded in your skull.”
