swinging when she pushed it aside and slipped in.
A watery wash of light from the station poured through the three windows above their door, barely illuminating the long rectangular room. There was just enough daylight to make out the boy’s silhouette near the box stove at the back of the room. His sides were still heaving from his mad dash. He jerked his head up in surprise when Tiki entered and scrambled for the back door that led through the maintenance tunnels out into the alley.
“I want my bag back!” Tiki shouted. She jumped over a pile of worn blankets and shoved a rickety old chair out of the way to grab a handful of his coat.
“Take it!” he cried as he threw the handbag at Tiki’s face and tried to jerk away. She let go of his jacket to catch the bag. Free of her grip, he raced to the far wall and slid out the back door.
Tiki yanked open the drawstrings to check the contents, her breath coming out in small gasps.
A low voice spoke from a dark corner behind her. “Of course the guttersnipe returns to the gutter.”
Tiki whirled and reached for the blade hidden within her sleeve, squinting to see through the darkness. She’d learned her lesson last winter with Marcus—she would never be unprepared to protect herself again.
“Larkin?” It didn’t surprise her that the faerie had found her again already—it was obvious she was desperate.
A snarl came from the corner and Tiki clenched the knife tighter, bracing herself for an attack. A wavering impression of Larkin emerged in the dark shadows. Her faint image came into focus and then dissolved again into a thousand pieces before she shifted into view again, closer to Tiki. This time she looked as Tiki remembered. Her blond hair was long and tangled. She looked windblown as though she’d just stepped out of the storm that had buffeted London the last few days. Or perhaps, Tiki thought, she was the storm. She pointed the knife at the faerie.
“Where’s Toots? Did you take him now?”
Larkin laughed under her breath. “So brave,” she said in a mocking tone. “I have no idea what a Toots might be.” Thin straps stretched over the creamy skin of her shoulders and held a green dress that draped in simple lines down to her ankles, revealing bare feet. Even in the dim light she shone with a delicate beauty that was mesmerizing.
“His name is Thomas. He’s a young boy who lives with me.” Tiki readjusted her grip on the knife and raised her voice. “He’s part of my family and he went missing yesterday—just about the time Isabelle Cavendish visited. Do you know where he is?”
“I will never know what William sees in you.” The faerie said, raking Tiki from head to toe with a scathing gaze. “So disgustingly sentimental about mortals.”
“How ironic,” Tiki said, “coming from you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
Larkin contemplated Tiki with narrowed eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, little orphan girl? Let me tell you this— you’re going to be in the battle of your life. I’ll make the offer again: If you help me—I’ll help you.”
The muffled noises of the railway station rumbled in the distance as though in another world. In the abandoned clockmaker’s shop, Larkin’s words pulled at Tiki like a web tightening around her.
The faerie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “But you’ve got to make your mind up soon, or there won’t be anything left to save. We’ve got to reclaim the Seelie throne before the Beltane feast on May first or we’ll never get Donegal out of the Palace of Mirrors.” Then Larkin shimmered out of view.
Chapter Eleven
T iki was exhausted by the time they returned home. Between her concern for Toots and Larkin’s unexpected appearance, her head felt like it was ready to explode.
As they walked in the front door, a familiar voice drifted from the other room. Tiki and Fiona looked at each other in surprise.
“Is that—” They hurried to the kitchen to find
A watery wash of light from the station poured through the three windows above their door, barely illuminating the long rectangular room. There was just enough daylight to make out the boy’s silhouette near the box stove at the back of the room. His sides were still heaving from his mad dash. He jerked his head up in surprise when Tiki entered and scrambled for the back door that led through the maintenance tunnels out into the alley.
“I want my bag back!” Tiki shouted. She jumped over a pile of worn blankets and shoved a rickety old chair out of the way to grab a handful of his coat.
“Take it!” he cried as he threw the handbag at Tiki’s face and tried to jerk away. She let go of his jacket to catch the bag. Free of her grip, he raced to the far wall and slid out the back door.
Tiki yanked open the drawstrings to check the contents, her breath coming out in small gasps.
A low voice spoke from a dark corner behind her. “Of course the guttersnipe returns to the gutter.”
Tiki whirled and reached for the blade hidden within her sleeve, squinting to see through the darkness. She’d learned her lesson last winter with Marcus—she would never be unprepared to protect herself again.
“Larkin?” It didn’t surprise her that the faerie had found her again already—it was obvious she was desperate.
A snarl came from the corner and Tiki clenched the knife tighter, bracing herself for an attack. A wavering impression of Larkin emerged in the dark shadows. Her faint image came into focus and then dissolved again into a thousand pieces before she shifted into view again, closer to Tiki. This time she looked as Tiki remembered. Her blond hair was long and tangled. She looked windblown as though she’d just stepped out of the storm that had buffeted London the last few days. Or perhaps, Tiki thought, she was the storm. She pointed the knife at the faerie.
“Where’s Toots? Did you take him now?”
Larkin laughed under her breath. “So brave,” she said in a mocking tone. “I have no idea what a Toots might be.” Thin straps stretched over the creamy skin of her shoulders and held a green dress that draped in simple lines down to her ankles, revealing bare feet. Even in the dim light she shone with a delicate beauty that was mesmerizing.
“His name is Thomas. He’s a young boy who lives with me.” Tiki readjusted her grip on the knife and raised her voice. “He’s part of my family and he went missing yesterday—just about the time Isabelle Cavendish visited. Do you know where he is?”
“I will never know what William sees in you.” The faerie said, raking Tiki from head to toe with a scathing gaze. “So disgustingly sentimental about mortals.”
“How ironic,” Tiki said, “coming from you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
Larkin contemplated Tiki with narrowed eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, little orphan girl? Let me tell you this— you’re going to be in the battle of your life. I’ll make the offer again: If you help me—I’ll help you.”
The muffled noises of the railway station rumbled in the distance as though in another world. In the abandoned clockmaker’s shop, Larkin’s words pulled at Tiki like a web tightening around her.
The faerie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “But you’ve got to make your mind up soon, or there won’t be anything left to save. We’ve got to reclaim the Seelie throne before the Beltane feast on May first or we’ll never get Donegal out of the Palace of Mirrors.” Then Larkin shimmered out of view.
Chapter Eleven
T iki was exhausted by the time they returned home. Between her concern for Toots and Larkin’s unexpected appearance, her head felt like it was ready to explode.
As they walked in the front door, a familiar voice drifted from the other room. Tiki and Fiona looked at each other in surprise.
“Is that—” They hurried to the kitchen to find
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