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"How come we're not supposed to talk to you?" Kaye asked.
"Kaye," Corny warned.
"What?" Her voice was low. "Luis isn't here. I want to know.”
Dave laughed, hollow and bitter. "Always trying to be the big brother. He's trippin' if he thinks he can stop them from killing me.”
"Who wants to kill you?" Corny asked.
"Luis and I used to be delivery boys for a troll." Dave dumped a handful of jelly beans into his mouth and talked around the chewing. "Potions. Keep the iron sickness from getting to them. But if a person takes it—you know what you can do?”>"And I don't want to screw up your life more than I already have!”
"Look," Corny said. "Before, you mentioned that maybe this Fixer guy would know something about my curse. We would have called this person and I would have gone with you anyway.”
"Fine, okay, okay. Cell?”
"Let me call," Corny said, holding out his hand.
Kaye sighed, seeming to deflate. She held out the paper. "Fine.”
Corny punched in the number, although it took a few tries with the thick gloves. The phone rang once and a computer voice said, "Hit pound and dial your number.”
"Pager," he said to Kaye's questioning look. "Yeah, your guide to the Seelie Court is totally a dealer.”
Lutie settled on Kaye's shoulder and grabbed a clump of green hair, wrapping it around her tiny body like a cloak. "Bitter coldy cold," she said.
"Let's head toward your car. Maybe by the time we get there, he'll call back.”
Corny jumped off the steps. "Otherwise, we can sleep in the back covered in fast-food garbage like the brother and sister in 'Babes in the Wood' who got—”
"Lutie," Kaye said, interrupting him. "You can't come. You have to watch over my mom. Please. Just to make sure that she's okay.”
"But it smells and I'm bored.”
"Lutie, please. Where we're going—it could be dangerous.”
The little faery flew up, wings and clotted cream hair making her seem like a tossed handful of snow. "I'm half sick of iron, but I will stay. For you. For you." She pointed one toothpick-tiny finger down at Kaye as she rose toward the apartment window.
"We'll come for you as soon as we can," Corny called, but he was relieved. Sometimes it was tiring trying not to stare at her delicate hands or her miniature bird-black eyes. There was nothing human about her.
As they crossed the street, Corny's phone rang. He flipped it open. "Hey.”
"What you want?" It was a young man's voice, soft and angry. "Who gave you this number?”
"I'm sorry. Maybe I dialed wrong." He made wide eyes at Kaye. "We're looking for a . . . the . . . the Fixer.”
The line went quiet, and Corny winced at how lame he sounded.
"You still haven't told me what you want," the boy said.
"My friend got a note. Said you could help her see the Queen.”
"Okay.”
"So, wait, you are the Fixer?" Corny said, and smiled when Kaye looked over impatiently.
"Ask him about the curse," Kaye said.
"Yeah, that's me." The boy's tone made it hard for Corny to decide if he really meant it. "And yeah, I'm supposed to take a girl upstate. Tell her to come over here in the morning and we can go. You got paper?”
