The Iron Thorn

“I wouldn’t know how to break your curse, I’m sure,” I said lamely. The coffin was cold against my body, rigid and unforgiving.

Tremaine lowered his eyes. “You think me hard and unyielding. Frozen. I am a creature of Winter, it’s true.” He gently lifted my chin with his fingertip. “But I am not a hard master. Like opening your eyes to the sunlight for the first time, the Weird will point your way.” He let go and stood aside. “Back to the ring, little fawn. And remember that this task is not one for failure. It is your duty now, whether it pleases you or not, to wake my queen.”

I looked back at the dryad’s grove and shuddered. “You won’t escort me?”

“My place is here, with the queens,” said Tremaine. “I guard their slumber.”

The thought of the corpse-drinkers or the singing trees catching me alone was almost worse than being with Tremaine. He laughed, softly, at my expression. “The ring knows where to take you, child, and the dryads know your smell now. You’ll find your way to Graystone unmolested.”

“I guess I have no choice,” I grumbled. I hated the fact that Tremaine had backed me into this crevice even more than I hated my inability to think my way out of taking up the mantle my father had abandoned. I didn’t want to be like him, alone and lonely, troubled by the Kindly Folk.

“Indeed, you do not,” Tremaine agreed. “I will return for you in one week. Use your days well.” He raised his hand to me. “Fair luck, Aoife Grayson.”

The worst bit was, I could tell that he was being sincere.

22 The Lore of the Weird

MORNING HAD ROLLED around while I’d vanished into the Land of Thorn, and the apple orchard was painted with crooked light and shadows.

Blue light wound through the trees, along with Cal and Dean’s voices.

“Aoife! Aoife Grayson!”

“Stop that racket,” Dean said. “You want to bring down every ghoul living under the mountain?” His lighter snapped and smoke hissed into the morning air. “Aoife! Call out, kid.”

“I’m here,” I said. I was standing on the spot where the hexenring had snatched me, and I moved away from it with all haste, stuffing the goggles Tremaine had gifted me into my pocket. One less thing to try and explain. “I’m here!” My voice ripped out of me, echoing loud and earthly. My knees trembled with relief to be free of the Land of Thorn.

Aether lanterns bobbed around the corner of the house, from the orchard, and Cal came running. “Where in the stars have you been?” he snapped. “You just ran off again. What am I supposed to think?”

Dean followed, slower, his cigarette ember trailing smoke spirits after him. “Got all your fingers and toes, princess?”

“I’m sorry,” I said to Cal, folding my torn sleeve under so he wouldn’t notice. The mornings had gotten colder since we’d been away from Lovecraft, and I could see my breath. “I was walking and I lost track of the time. My chronometer’s in the library.”

“You silly girl!” Cal’s face contorted. “You could have ruined everything. What if a Proctor or someone from Arkham saw you?”

Cal’s worrying would be endearing normally, but right now it just sparked irritation. “Ruined? Cal, this isn’t anything to do with you.” I was shivering, and I put my arms around myself, shrinking away from him. “I’m sorry I worried you,” I said. “But it’s all right. And stop calling me silly.”

He tensed, fists curling, and then released, as if someone had cut his strings. “I thought I’d lost you, Aoife.”

“Far be it from me to interrupt this little reunion,” Dean coughed. “But it’s freezing out here and I’d just as soon we were discussing this over a breakfast and a hot cuppa.”

“He’s right,” I said in relief, stepping around Cal so I didn’t have to look at his shattered face. “Let’s all go inside. I’m starving.”

We trooped back to Graystone, where Bethina waited in the doorway, twisting her striped apron between her hands. “Oh, miss!” she cried when I was close, and flung her arms around me.

“I …” I patted her back as well as I could, crushed between her plump arms. “It’s all right, Bethina.”

“When your bed hadn’t been mussed and Dean hadn’t seen you for hours, I knew you were lost for good this time, miss. Knew it.” She sniffled deeply.

“It’s good to know all of you have so much faith in me,” I grumbled with a smile. No one returned it. I extricated myself gently from Bethina’s grasp. “If you’re up to it, I think we’d all like some breakfast.”

“Of course,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “I’ve got some oatmeal and store-bought pancake mix. Should still be good. Pancakes and porridge all around.”

While Bethina bustled in the kitchen I went to my room and changed into a pair of toreador pants and a silk blouse that I tied up around my waist. My hair was hopeless, but I managed to comb out the moss and leaves and lily petals.

Dean found me as I descended the stairs, stopping my path. “What’s the word, kitten?”

“Exhausted,” I said, glad he’d found me and not Cal right then. “Hungry. Pick one.”

Dean tipped his head to the side. The light caught his eyes and turned them liquid silver. “You going to tell me what really happened after you went AWOL last night?”

I worried my lip. “I’m too cold to go up on the roof again.”

“When the sun warms things up, then,” he said. “We’ll walk and you’ll talk. Sound fair?”

Tremaine’s words bubbled up in my thoughts, scornful and sharp. That’s the last bargain I’m to give you.

“All right,” I said. On an impulse, I grabbed Dean’s hand and squeezed. He was warm, alive and solid and I clung longer than I needed to. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Dean squeezed in return. “Right back at you.”

“Breakfast!” Bethina’s shout echoed from the kitchen. “Pancakes! Come and get ’em if you’re able!”

Dean sighed and let go of my hand. “Stale johnnycakes and mushy oatmeal. The stuff dreams are made of.”

“Dean …,” I started as he thumped down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom.

“Yeah, princess?”

I waved him off. Dean seemed willing to accept my flights of fancy about the Weird, but telling him I’d visited a land where the Folk watched their cursed queens sleep could only be asking for even more trouble than telling Cal about the library.

“Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”

“I won’t, but I’ll be patient,” Dean said. “Hungry enough to eat a nightjar raw.”

I waited until he’d gone and then went to the library above and got my father’s journal. I needed it near me. I needed to know that in shouldering the burden of Tremaine and his cursebreaker, I wasn’t alone.

Cal shoved his third pancake into his mouth, rivulets of syrup coating his chin. “I don’t understand why you read those musty things,” he said, pointing at my father’s book. “I’d kill for a copy of Weird Tales.”

“I like books,” I said, tucking it under my elbow. “We always had books.”

“That one doesn’t even have a proper picture on the cover,” Cal snorted. “Give it here, let’s see what the fuss is about.”

“No.” I jerked it away from his sticky fingers. Cal frowned.

“See, this is what happens when you read too much. You get bad manners and bad habits. You’ll need glasses before you know it.”

“Nothing wrong with a pair of cat’s-eyes,” Dean said. “They can do favors for a pretty girl.” He dropped me a wink while Cal’s face pinked.