Unthinkable Page 3

  Indignantly and unmusically, the cat yowled.

  The queen yowled back. Their voices rose—warred— and then died out. Ryland turned his furry head slowly. He looked at Fenella.

  He meowed contemptuously.

  The queen said calmly, “Ryland has agreed. Or, rather, understood that he must obey me.” She nodded at Fenella. “Your choices and your actions—yours alone—will guide the destructive tasks. Ryland can only give you advice. But that he will do.”

  The leaves of the tree fey rustled.

  The queen appeared to listen for a moment before she swept on. “In the human realm, Fenella, if you are careful, you can get away with talking aloud to your cat. As for my brother, he will send thoughts to your mind.” She turned to the cat. “We can’t have you talking aloud, can we? You’d end in a science lab with electrodes attached to your poor wittle head.”

  The cat’s hair was standing on end. He presented his rear to his sister.

  The queen only shrugged. “Fenella, Ryland also has the power to return to Faerie when necessary and—if you are in physical contact with him—to take you with him. Finally, when you give him a direct order, he must obey.”

  The cat screamed.

  “Oh, it’s true, brother,” purred the queen. “And you know it.”

  She turned again to Fenella. “My brother is a cruel and callous individual. He thinks this is a strength. However, I have found him reliably strong in only one thing: He always knows how best to undermine and destroy. This, you may find useful. I certainly do not.”

  The cat was now silent.

  Fenella found her voice. “But I don’t want him!”

  At the same moment, beside Fenella, Padraig protested. “How is this balanced? How is this fair, that she has help? At the very least, she must have a time limit!”

  “There is a time limit,” said the queen.

  “Nine months?” asked Fenella sarcastically. It had been the amount of time allotted to try to break the previous curse. “Three,” said the queen. “The span of a single season.” The cat meowed. Fenella discovered that she could indeed hear him in her head. She’s right that you’ll do better with me to help. Unless you don’t really want death? Do you secretly want to belong once more to the Mud Creature?

  The cat’s mental voice was surprisingly calm. Perhaps too calm, as if he were forcing himself to be rational. Meanwhile, Padraig was standing straight, looking—was Fenella suddenly imagining this?—confident. She contained a shudder.

  She looked back at the cat, and then at the queen.

  “Decide, Fenella,” said the queen. “Do you go alone, or with Ryland?”

  Fenella hesitated. The tree fey murmured their opinion.

  Fenella said reluctantly, “I will take Ryland with me.”

  “Good. He knows the human realm, and so will also assist you in navigating and understanding it. It is a long time since you have lived in that world, and you will find much has changed.”

  Fenella said, “I know more than you realize.”

  It was true. She had learned about the modern world from her descendants, starting with Minnie Scarborough. Minnie had been educated before Padraig’s curse took her. She had been Fenella’s friend. Because of Minnie, Fenella had at last allowed herself to become close to every Scarborough girl that followed. Jennie. Mary. Ruth, and Joanne, Deirdre, and finally, Miranda, Lucy’s mother.

  Fenella had helped each of them in turn endure Padraig. She had learned to adjust the way she spoke English, and even the way she thought, to better communicate with them. Of course, each relationship had ended in pain and, yes, destruction. But still, she had learned. She was no longer the inexperienced girl who had failed herself and her family.

  She could do this. She could free herself, and see Padraig dead in the bargain—and she would.

  “I talked with each of my—my daughters, when they were imprisoned here with me. They told me about their lives, and about their world.”

  The queen nodded. “I am glad you mention your daughters. You will go to the two that survive, Lucy and her mother, Miranda. Tell them you have been freed and are coming to them for help to restart your life.”

  “No.” Fenella was firm. “I will do this destruction my own way. I will keep Lucy and her family entirely out of it.”

  The queen continued as if Fenella had not spoken. “They will want to love you and take care of you. They will not be suspicious.”

  “I don’t wish to go to them,” Fenella repeated. “I would rather simply begin on the first task of destruction. Tell me. What must I destroy first?”

  The cat butted his soft head against Fenella’s ankles. He did not make a sound, but Fenella heard his mocking voice in her head.

  “No,” she said sharply. “No, you’re wrong.” She looked at the queen. “Isn’t he wrong?”

  “He directed his thoughts to you, not to me. What did he say?”

  “He told me—” Fenella broke off. “He said that my family must be the target of each act of destruction. He said it would not be human destruction if there was no pain for me. For people I care about.” Her eyes were hot flame. “Tell me it’s not true,” she demanded.

  The queen said, “Your first task is the destruction of your family’s safety.”

  “No,” said Fenella.

  “Yes,” said the queen, steadily. “You have agreed. You must go forward toward the death you desire, sowing destruction about you, or you will belong again to the Mud Creature.”

  Chapter 4

  With the white-and-black cat in a plastic carrier in one hand, Fenella stood on a sidewalk before a big, shabby

  house. She had been standing there for several minutes. Her throat was dry and her palms were sweating. Here she was, back in the human realm after all these years. She had dreamed of this in her early years of captivity. That was a long time ago, though. Now she was in a world she did not recognize.

  How had she ended up tasked with destruction instead of in her grave? This was not what she had intended. But here she was and she would do it. She would destroy her family’s safety. She had her choice of how. She would find something to do that wasn’t too bad. After all, it wasn’t like she had to murder anybody. She didn’t even have to listen to Ryland’s ideas; his own sister had called him cruel and callous. The queen had only wanted to get rid of him, Fenella thought. She had not really believed he would be of valuable assistance to Fenella.

  She thrust her chin out determinedly, dismissing the subject of Queen Kethalia’s motivations. She needed to focus on her tasks.

  Now. This was the house where her family lived. Lucy. Lucy’s mother, Miranda. Lucy’s foster parents. Lucy’s young husband. And—and—

  And it was a beautiful morning in late September. The front garden of the house displayed a scattering of dandelions amid grass, a few bushes, and patches of bare earth. An odd little vehicle, pink with three wheels and with the word Playskool on its side, lay overturned on the front porch of the house. There was a large oak tree to Fenella’s right, and many other trees around the neighborhood as well, maple and willow and more oak, none of the trees very old. The leaves of the nearby maple were beginning to turn.

  Fenella wondered whether the trees would be friendly. She put a hand out to touch the oak. Nothing—oh, of course. These trees were not fey.

  Are you going to stand there all day long? This is a small cage I’m trapped in, and I would like to be out of it. Go up those stairs. Move into your new home already.

  “Shut up, Ryland,” she said to the cat. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t have to listen to you.”

  I plan to help you, said the cat, with exaggerated patience. In fact, I’m being forced to help you. You’d be stupid not to take advantage. I want this to end successfully every bit as much as you do.

  Fenella snorted. “Only because it’s in your own interest.”

  Whose interest should it be in? And here you claim to be a realist.

  She didn’t answer
.

  He was right about her next move, she thought. She did need to walk up those stairs to the door of that house. Instead, she looked down at her unfamiliar clothes. Queen Kethalia had given her a soft white cotton shirt and a white hooded sweatshirt, and a skirt that was frankly wondrous. It was deep green as a summer leaf, and long to her calves. It swung pleasurably at the hem, and had a comfortable stretchiness woven into the fabric. One percent spandex, Ryland had told her, in her head, authoritatively.

  “What’s spandex?”

  He hadn’t answered. Instead: Tell my sister you need ballet flats. Pale pink. Not those sneaker things.

  Fenella had ignored the fashion advice. But now she looked around and understood at least why shoes were a necessity. Much of the ground in the human realm was covered with a smooth, hard surface that would hurt the soles of bare feet. The ground in this place was also covered with houses, and everywhere you looked, there were vehicles that operated artificially, without horses or donkeys, which was—rather fascinating. All she had really known of machinery, in the old days, was the watermill that Robert’s parents ran, and it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to think of those days.

  Go up the stairs, Ryland said with irritation. One foot at a time. Then do something called “ringing the bell.” It’s not a real bell. You push a button. It makes a noise that summons the people within.

  Fenella would have, she absolutely would have, because there was no sense in running away. But suddenly from within the house came the muffled but unmistakable sound of a child’s demanding screech.

  The baby. Who would not be such a baby. Eighteen months? Nineteen?

  Fenella dropped the cat carrier. It landed with a thud on the ground.

  The cat said something nasty as the house’s front door opened and a young woman with short, dark hair catapulted onto the front porch

  “I have to go right now or I’ll miss my bus,” she called back over her shoulder. “Listen, Zach, ask Mrs. Spencer about taking care of Dawn next Wednesday, okay?” The young woman hefted a backpack onto her shoulders and sprinted down the house steps and onto the walk. She went past Fenella, mumbling, “Sorry, excuse me.”

  Lucy Scarborough, I suppose, commented the cat.

  Fenella knew who it was. Her heart had taken on a rapid rhythm. “Her name is Lucy Scarborough Greenfield now,” she murmured.

  She watched Lucy’s back until the girl turned the corner. Then Fenella remained quite still, looking at the empty street and feeling her heart thud with—something.

  Ten seconds later, Lucy reappeared. She stared in Fenella’s direction. It was too far away to see her expression.

  Involuntarily, Fenella stepped away from the cat carrier. She felt she couldn’t breathe. She raised one hand in an uncertain gesture, reaching out, pulling back. She took another step forward. Confusion filled her. Then numbness.

  Then terror. Terror, even though she had honestly believed she could never fear anything again.

  Lucy began walking back rapidly.

  “Shut up, Ryland,” Fenella whispered to the cat, even though he hadn’t said anything.

  Then Lucy was in front of her, close enough to touch. Her gaze straight into Fenella’s eyes was intelligent, and clear— and amazed. She was several inches taller than Fenella.

  “I went right by you,” Lucy said. “But I could feel you watching me, and . . . I had to turn. Then—I knew you. Even from the end of the street, I knew you.” She paused. “Fenella? Fenella Scarborough? It is you?”

  Fenella clutched the back of her own neck beneath her red hair. She managed a nod.

  “Are you real?” Lucy touched Fenella gently, tentatively, on the upper arm.

  Fenella didn’t think about what to do. Her body knew. She put her hand on top of Lucy’s. “I’m real.” Her voice came out choked.

  “How?” Lucy’s gaze was intense. “How can you be here?”

  “The fey.” Fenella remembered some of the things the queen had advised her to say, and she got one of them out past the obstruction in her throat. “They let me go.”

  “Like Miranda was let go?” Lucy asked. “Free to live out the remainder of her life?”

  Fenella nodded. “I—yes.”

  “But what about all the others? If you’re here, then maybe, could they all be alive again somehow, or . . .?”

  “No,” said Fenella steadily. It was a relief to find her way to saying true things. “They died each in turn, in their time, according to the curse, every eighteen years. They are at peace. It’s just me who—who kept on living forever.” She paused and added, “Until now.”

  “It’s a miracle. Oh, my God. They gave you your life back!”

  The cat meowed plaintively.

  Lucy looked down. Ryland pushed his soft little face against the wire mesh of the door and blinked at her with gorgeous eyes.

  “So, this cat,” Fenella said colorlessly. “Someone gave him to me while I was on my way here. I—I want to keep him.”

  If Lucy found it strange that Fenella had been ejected from Faerie and made it her first order of business to adopt a cat, she didn’t say so. She squatted. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a cat with markings like that before. Adorable.” She extended a finger inside the wire mesh and stroked the cat’s head.

  The cat purred.

  They will all love me, he said arrogantly to Fenella. Watch. I’m going to be ever so sweet. He pushed his head against the mesh toward Lucy’s hand.

  “Boy or girl?” asked Lucy. “Name?”

  “Boy. Ryland,” said Fenella, full of hate for the cat. And then for herself. She pressed her hands together. She wet her lips. “Lucy?”

  “Yes?” Lucy looked up.

  Fenella reached for her rehearsed words. “I have come to visit you. I hope—that is, I hope it is all right that I’ve come.” She added in a rush: “I didn’t know where else to go.” She discovered she could no longer look in Lucy’s face.

  Lucy said, “Oh, Fenella. Of course this is where you should be. There’s no question.”

  Fenella forced out more words. “My cat . . . ?”

  “We’ll make room for him too.”

  Lucy jumped up. She fell upon Fenella, hugging her, enveloping her. “I don’t believe you’re here, but you are. Just wait until Zach sees you—and Miranda! I’ve been worried about Miranda, but maybe it will help her to see you. And you haven’t ever met my parents. My foster parents, I mean. You’ll love them.”

  It was too easy. Fenella felt sick. She wanted to pull away, but Lucy had her cheek on Fenella’s hair, and her arms were tight.

  “And my baby, Dawn—you were there when Dawn was born. You appeared to us when the curse was broken. I will never forget it, or you. Of course you’re welcome!”

  The child. How could she live in a house with the little girl, how? She pulled away from Lucy.

  “I’m sorry.” Lucy put one hand up to cover her mouth. “I wasn’t thinking. Maybe you don’t like to be touched?”

  “It’s all right.” Fenella looked down. “I was only—this is all strange for me.”

  “I understand. Fenella? Listen. We don’t know each other, but I’m your family. We all are, here. We know more about you than you probably realize. Miranda talks about you. She says you kept her steady for those eighteen years she was trapped in Faerie with you . . . and with him.” Lucy’s pause was almost imperceptible. “She says you told her never to give up hope, never to stop trying to help me figure out the curse. And never to stop loving me, even when she was here in the human realm trying to communicate with me and I—well, you know. I was horrible to Miranda sometimes.”

  “It’s all right,” said Fenella. “Miranda understood what you were feeling. So did I. Anyway, that’s over. It’s over because of you, Lucy.” The memory swept through Fenella of how it had felt when Lucy and Zach defeated Padraig. The rush of gratitude, the huge relief. The love and joy.

  It had not lasted, not for Fenella, not when s
he discovered her personal ordeal would continue in a different form. But that moment had still been real. Lucy had broken the Scarborough Curse. She had saved herself, and her baby, and her mother, Miranda.

  Lucy was moving her shoulders awkwardly. “I was lucky. I had help. Zach, and my parents.”

  “I know,” said Fenella. “But all the same, you were glorious, Lucy. Glorious.”

  They were quiet for a moment. “Well,” Lucy said at last. “Obviously I’m not going to my class this morning. Let’s go inside. You have to meet everyone.” She held out her hand for a second, before letting her arm fall back to her side when Fenella did not take it.

  Fenella discovered that even with Lucy beside her, she needed to stand on the sidewalk in front of the house for another minute, just breathing.

  She had figured out that the pink toy on the front porch must belong to the child.

  Lucy was patient. Miraculously, so was the cat. At last Fenella reached for the cat carrier.

  “Wait,” Lucy said. “Can we leave your cat outside? On the porch? The thing is, we have a dog. We’ll have to go slow.”

  No, said Ryland instantly. You need me with you.

  “Yes, fine,” said Fenella to Lucy. “Let’s leave him outside.”

  Chapter 5

  Fenella had never realized before that five people (plus a dog) could constitute an enormous crowd. The family crammed around her in the kitchen. They stared and talked and marveled and fussed. Several of them mentioned places they were supposed to be: jobs, school. But then they pulled out little communication devices and gave notice that they would be late, or were not going today. After that they looked at Fenella as if they thought their staying with her would make her happy.

  They were happy. A little alarmed, a little anxious, but genuinely glad to see Fenella. The Scarborough-MarkowitzGreenfield family was accustomed to fantastical events. They could take it in stride when a woman showed up, claiming to be their relative released from captivity in Faerie after hundreds of years.