Wayfarer: A Tale of Beauty and Madness (Tales of Beauty and Madness) Read Online Free Page B

someone was grading her on a Motherly Façade of the Year performance. “Poor dear. Was it
bad
?”
    The girl flinched. “Not bad.” Even her voice was colorless. She didn’t seem to notice Ellie, watching the Strep the way a mouse will helplessly watch an uninterested—but still very close—snake.
    Maybe she knows?
    But the girl actually dropped her suitcase and threw her arms around Laurissa, who, amazingly, didn’t smack her for creasing the Auberme suit and the freshly ironed, very stylish Tak Kerak canvas trench coat. Ellie’s gorge rose, and she hastily looked away.
    “BOOYEAH!” someone yelled, and a blur of motion burst from one of the train’s further hatches. “NEW HAAAAAAAAVEN!”
    What the hell?
    It was a boy, Ellie’s age or a little older. He was in an unfamiliar prep school uniform, his striped tie askew and toffee-golden hair sticking up anyhow. Three running strides and he was met by a pair of adults—a beaming mother with dark eyes and a father in a suit, both charmers with a haze-cloud of Potential around them, reacting uneasily as the train settled again.
    She recognized him, of course. How could she not?
    Avery Fletcher. Mother and father both born into charm-clans, and Dad had knocked back beers with Mr. Fletcher once or twice at the Charmer’s Ball or during other get-togethers. Since the Strep had a Sigil and Ellie had Potential, they attended those sorts of things.
    At least, while Dad was in town they did. When he wasn’t, the Strep had gone alone.
    Mrs. Fletcher had her arms around the boy. The surprise for Ellie was seeing how he’d grown. When she’d moved to New Haven he’d been a weedy little jerk, and she’d known him peripherally for years.
    Ruby would like him now. Cute enough. But arrogant.
Ellie sighed. She still remembered the sandpit, Avery throwing handfuls of it at her, and her own despair as she tried to avoid them. He’d been, what, twelve? Thirteen?
    A gnarl-skinned redcap, its cheeks flushed and its too-long arms corded with muscle, brought luggage along the platform on a wheeled cart. It hopped a little, as if the platform burned—of course, redcaps were changelings, and the fey on them would make them uncomfortable around cold true-iron. Still, they didn’t Twist, and this was a good job to have.
    Fletcher’s luggage was part of what the redcap was hauling. The boy surfaced from the hug, his father ruffled his hair, and Avery glanced across the platform like he could feel her gaze. Heat rose up Ellie’s neck, staining her cheeks, and she looked away.
    The Strep still had her arms around Marguerite, who had gone pale but nodded eagerly. The naked hope on her round face was almost too much, and Ellie hastily looked away again. Her gaze settled on the train, and she counted the charm-symbols crackling against the black pitted metal, trying to unravel what each one did.
    “Hey! Sinder!” Yelling again, across the platform. “
Ellen! Hey!
”
    Oh God.
She pretended not to hear, staring at the blurring charm-symbols, keeping the Strep in her peripheral vision. Her stomach ached, and the Strep’s head came up. She beckoned, and Ellie trudged obediently across the platform, ignoring Avery’s last cry.
    Talking to him would only cause trouble. How had he remembered her name?
    “A friend of yours?” Laurissa inquired, sweetly. Her eyes had narrowed, and her mouth was tight. She studied the boy and his parents speculatively.
    “Huh?” Ellie played dumb, hunching her shoulders. “Oh, Fletcher? I saw him at a couple charming events. Hi. I’m Ellie.”
    The wan, moonfaced sister offered one moist paw. “Rita,” she whispered. “Marguerite.”
    Ellie dredged up a smile. “How do you do, Rita.”
Did she grow up with the Strep around? That would explain a lot. But she’s so young.
    Whatever the girl would have said next was lost in the train’s blasting whistle, and Laurissa hurried them away with sharp heel-clipping steps, glancing back occasionally at