"I don't know. I slept a lot. Sometimes I would wake up and the leaves would have changed without me seeing them.”
Kaye felt cold all over. She wondered if she'd ever get used to the casual cruelty of faeries, and hoped she wouldn't. At least here, among humans, Kate would wake up each day until there was no more waking.
Kaye fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater, worming her thumbs through the weave. "Do you want to be Kaye and I'll be Kate?”
"You're stupid and you don't even act like a faery.”
"How about I make you a deal," Kaye said. "I'll teach you about being human and you teach me about being a faery." She winced at how lame that sounded, even to her.
The frown hadn't faded from Kate's face, but she looked like she was thinking things through.
"I'll even help," Corny said. "We can start by teaching you human curse words. Maybe we could skip the faerie curses, though." Corny took a deck of cards out of his backpack. Printed on the back of each was a different cinema robot. "Or we could try poker.”
"You shouldn't bargain with me," the girl said, as though by rote. She looked smug. "Mortal promises aren't worth the hair on a rat's tail. That's your first lesson.”
"Noted," Kaye said. "And, hey, we could also teach you the joys of human food.”
Kate shook her head. "I want to play the cards.”
By the time Ellen walked in, Corny had beaten them both out of all the spare change they'd found in their pockets or under Ellen's bed. Law & Order was playing on the television, and Kate had agreed to eat a single fortune cookie. Her fortune had read: Someone will invite you to a karaoke party.
"Hey, one of the guys on the street was selling bootleg movies for two bucks," Ellen said, throwing her coat onto a chair and dumping the rest of her stuff onto the floor. "I got a couple for you kids.”
"Bet the back of someone's head blocks the screen," Kaye warned.
Ellen picked at the noodles on the counter. "Anyone eating these?”
Kaye walked over. "Kate didn't want them.”
Ellen lowered her voice. "I can't tell if she's just a picky eater or if it's some thing—doesn't like sauces, barely can stand cooked food at all. Not like you. You used to eat like you had a tapeworm.”
Kaye busied herself packing up what was left of the food. She wondered if every memory would snag, like wool on a thorn, making her wonder if it was a symptom of her strangeness.
"Everything okay?" Ellen asked her.
"I guess I'm not used to sharing you," Kaye said softly.
Ellen smoothed Kaye's green hair back from her head. "You'll always be my baby, Baby." She looked into Kaye's eyes a long moment, then turned and lit a cigarette off the stove. "But your kid-sitting days are just beginning."
Luis didn't want enchantments or glamours to pay for his brother's funeral, and so he got what he could afford—a box of ashes and no service. Corny drove him to pick them up from an ancient funeral director who handed over what looked like a cookie tin.
Although the sky was overcast, the snow on the ground had turned to slush. Luis had been in New York since the duel, dealing with clients and trying to hunt up enough paperwork to prove that Dave really was his brother.
"What are you going to do with the ashes?" Corny asked, climbing back into the car.
"I guess I should scatter them," said Luis. He leaned against the cracked plastic seat. Someone had tightened up his herringbone braids, and they shone like ropes of dark silk when he tilted his head. "But it freaks me out. I keep thinking of the ashes like powdered milk. You know, if I just add water, they'll reconstitute into my brother.”
Corny rested his hands against the steering wheel. "You could keep them. Get an urn. Get a mantel to put it on.”
"No." Luis smiled. "I'm going to take his ashes to Hart Island. He was good at finding things, places. He would have loved an entirely abandoned island. And then he'll be resting near my parents.”
"That's nice. Nicer than some funeral home with a bunch of relatives who don't know what to say.”
"It could be on New Year's. Like a wake.”
Corny nodded, but when he moved to put the key in the ignition, Luis's hand stopped him. When he turned, their mouths met.
"I'm sorry . . . that I've been," Luis said, between kisses, "distracted ... by everything. Is it morbid . . . that I'm talking . . . ?”
Corny murmured something that he hoped sounded like agreement as Luis's fingers dug into his hips, pushing him up so they could crush their bodies closer together.
Three days later they brought another package of meat to the mermaids for a ride to Hart Island. Corny had found a vintage blue tuxedo jacket to put on over a pair of jeans, while Luis slouched in his baggy hoodie and engineer boots. Kaye had borrowed one of her grandmother's black dresses and had pinned her green hair up with tiny rhinestone butterflies. The mermaids insisted on taking three of the hairpins along with the steak.
Corny looked back at the city behind them, shining so brightly that the sky over it looked almost like day. Even here, it was too light for stars.
"Do you think the coast guard is going to spot us?" Corny asked.
Luis shook his head. "Roiben said not." Kaye looked up. "When did you talk to him?" Touching the scar beside his lip ring, Luis shrugged. "He came to see me. He said that he formally extended his protection. I can go wherever I want and see whatever I see in his lands and no one can put out my eyes. I got to tell you, it's more of a relief than I thought it would be.”
Kaye looked down at her hands. "I don't know what I'm going to say to him tonight.”
"You're a consort. Shouldn't you be consorting?" Lutie asked. "Or maybe you can send him on a quest of his own. Make him build you a palace of paper plates.”
Kaye's mouth quirked at the corner.
"You should definitely ask for a better palace than that. Reinforced cardboard at least." Corny poked her in the side. "How did you solve his quest, anyway?”
She turned and opened her mouth. Someone shouted from the shore.