Persie Merlin and the Door to Nowhere by Bella Forrest Page 0,78
sweet, as though my lungs and voice box had been taken over by a cosmic force. It sounded ancient and sad, as though it wasn’t supposed to be heard by human ears. Strange tears welled in my eyes as I repeated the phrase, and a memory came back to me. The song, I realized, was similar to a lullaby I’d heard Tobe sing to a box of faeries when I was a child (and shouldn’t have been eavesdropping).
The pixies stopped chattering. Lifting the mirror up, I saw them creeping toward my dumpster in the reflection. They gave me such a fright that I almost stopped singing, but my voice held on, ringing out with that mesmerizing sadness.
Edging closer, they spotted the milk and unleashed a collective “Oooooh.” I wasn’t even sure I needed the song anymore, but I carried on regardless. As I started the third repetition, all five pixies eagerly pounced onto the carton, apparently entranced. One had just stuck its hand down the opening to scoop up a handful of the white stuff when the box snapped shut around the quintet and the lid sprung closed, locking them inside.
“Chaos, YES!” I lunged for the box and twisted the designs out of sync. Muffled yelps and squeals babbled inside the box for a second, and then… silence. I held it up to the light to observe my victory. Wispy threads of black smoke puffed out of the lid and the designs glowed brightly—a subtle confirmation that I’d freaking done it!
“I’m sorry, but I promise it won’t be for long,” I whispered to the inmates. “I just need to figure out what to do with you. We might have to hide you in an orb for a bit, but only until we can come up with something better. Okay?”
The pixies didn’t reply. After all, the box had turned them back into black mist. But I was definitely going to chalk this up as a victory. I’d gotten ahead of the hunters and caught five pixies of my own accord—six, if you counted my first. It comforted me to think I might be able to save some of my creations. I didn’t know how, just yet, but I’d find a way. But, first, I had to get them to a safe place so I could ask them what they knew about Xanthippe and Randolph. I hoped they’d tell me in exchange for their freedom.
Feeling on top of the world, I slipped the box into the front pocket of my bag and took off down the hall. I hadn’t gone more than a few yards when my bubble of elation was popped by a hunter-shaped needle. A trio of them, not far ahead. I froze, they froze. The only way out was up the stairwell they were blocking. I could lock myself in the refuse room, but they’d either batter it down or wait until I came out.
“What are you doing down here?” barked a tall guy in the customary black suit. “No one is allowed to be out without permission.”
I gulped. “I just wanted to drop off some cardboard boxes.”
“Nice try.” A glowering woman with white-blonde hair folded her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you tell us what’s in the bag?”
“It’s nothing,” I replied, a beat too fast. “Books and stuff.”
Their third colleague—a huge woman, built like a bull—stepped forward. “Hand over the bag. If it’s nothing, we’ll find nothing.”
My legs urged me to run. Perhaps I’d find another stairwell at the opposite end of the hallway. Before I could move a muscle, the guy called out, “And don’t even think about scampering off. Only the guilty run.”
I’m guilty in your eyes. For the first time ever, I wished a Purge would pour out of my mouth then and there—a big one. Something that would keep them occupied while I made a hasty exit. But I had no sweats, no nausea, no nothing.
“I’m not guilty, but I don’t see why I should give you my personal things.” I swallowed the tremble in my voice.
“Because we asked,” the bull-woman grumbled, striding toward me. As hunters went, these ones were really freaking threatening. Her colleagues followed her, and they were on me before I could even contemplate hurtling through the refuse-room door.
The smaller woman yanked the bag off my shoulders while the bull-woman wrenched my arms behind my back. Pain splintered through my bones, my face contorting. I wondered if Victoria was okay with this sort of violence. Whatever happened to innocent