Shadows of the Redwood - By Gillian Summers Page 0,51

He seemed offended. Sometimes I smell a different kind of magic on some humans who come in here. And I smell it on the gobblers, but your magic is different. You have fairy magic. The tree’s voice was accusing, as if having fairy magic was a bad thing. Guess it depended on what kind of fairy.

Gobblers? What are gobblers?

They’re the ugly fairies, and they’re not friends of the trees. You’re not a gobbler, are you? They like to steal sap.

Keelie had no idea what a gobbler was. She felt sorry for this tree with his tight-fitting planter.

Suddenly a horrendous smell filled the air. Keelie recognized it, and jumped up as Knot vaulted onto the planter’s edge and made an experimental dig with one paw.

There’s a fair-fair-fairy. The tree swooned, and fell over with a loud crash. Everyone in the food court leaped up and looked toward them.

“Are you okay?” the woman behind the counter of the Chinese restaurant yelled.

“Fine,” Laurie said. “We’re okay. Is anybody a lawyer?”

Knot had landed on his feet and bolted toward an exit. Keelie rounded the overturned planter and looked down at the tree, its branches splayed out on the atrium’s tile floor.

Are you okay?

Silence.

Knot’s loud meow echoed down the hall.

“The milk must not have agreed with him. You know, he may be lactose-intolerant,” Laurie suggested.

A lactose-intolerant fairy. That figured.

“Knot, wait for me.” Risa pushed her chair backwards and raced after him.

People in the food court were looking, pointing, and whispering.

Sean stood up. “I’d better keep an eye on her. She’s not familiar with the ways of the human world, and she could get into trouble.”

Keelie wanted to protest, but she had to agree with Sean. Knot and Risa on the loose in L.A.? Not a good thing.

The people in the food court resumed eating, but they kept staring at Keelie as if she’d been the one causing all the problems. Or as if she was paid entertainment.

She should be used to it, after all the numerous jobs she’d had at the Wildewood Faire. She hadn’t been good at those, either, and people had stared after every disaster.

“Sit down, Keelie, people are looking.” Laurie tried to look nonchalant as she sipped her drink.

“I hope they get this poor tree a new planter. He’s outgrown this one,” Keelie said loudly. She yanked on its slim trunk and the crumbly earth ball held by its roots popped out. His branches drooped and several leaves skittered across the floor as if it was autumn. Some of the nearby people nodded sympathetically.

Keelie stared down at the root ball. If the tree had been watered regularly, it would have been impossible to pull out. And the root ball was big, too. The tree’s roots had been cramped, with no room to grow. It was like having a person’s feet crammed into too-small shoes. She had to do something.

As two big security guards rushed forward, Keelie pointed to the tree. “You really need to talk to the company that takes care of your plants. That tree could’ve collapsed on me. I could be suffering from a concussion, and you’re darn lucky I’m not.”

One of the beefy security guards, whose nameplate said “Dan,” looked uncomfortable. “Yes ma’am. Are you okay?”

“Who takes care of your trees?” Keelie demanded.

“We’re not sure.” The two guys exchanged I-dunno-do-you-know? looks.

The tree was beginning to come back to consciousness. Huh!

“I’m taking it with me as evidence,” Keelie said.

The other security guard, with “Don” on his name tag, scratched his head. “I don’t know if you can do that.”

“Do you have a larger container and fresh clean soil?” Keelie asked, using her best lawyer voice.

Laurie crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, do you?”

Tweedle Dan and Tweedle Don shook their heads.

“I’m going to take this tree, and consider yourselves lucky I don’t sue the mall.” Keelie said.

“We need to talk to our boss,” Tweedle Don replied.

“Go talk to him,” Keelie said. “I need some answers.”

“Okay!” They both left.

Once the guards were out of sight, Keelie motioned to Laurie. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” She grabbed the tree by its slender trunk. “Help me carry this.”

Laurie grabbed a leafy branch. “Is this like shoplifting, or more like a PETA rescue, only with trees?”

“We’ll figure it out later. Walk faster.” The two girls scooted through the mall and wrestled the tree up the escalator and out the front door. Few people gave them more than a glance.

“L.A. is so blasé about everything,” Keelie observed. “We could have been leading an