When Tinker Met Bell Read online

  Tinker ignored them both.

  He nodded to the two guards stationed outside his room—they stood at attention in their armor adorned with colorful strips cut from soda cans. Once on the street, they passed a group of goblins betting on a game of Elf Bones: a modified version of Jacks. Only this bunch was playing with a rubber ball and handfuls of raw emeralds. As they approached the keep’s separate kitchen, Tinker and Retcher were almost tackled by Fork and Willie, who sped past them.

  “Watch it, goonies!” Tinker managed to catch Retcher before he toppled over, dropping the makeshift tray in the process. The plate and saucer both slipped off and shattered on the stone.

  “Hooray!” A chorus of voices from inside the kitchen cheered at the sound of breaking porcelain.

  “Who’s out there bringing good luck to my doorstep today?” Aberdeen cried out.

  “Our prodigal son has returned,” Retcher announced as Tinker stopped to pick up the shards. The sound of breaking glass might have been good luck in their culture, but most goblins ran around barefoot—as he and Retcher currently were. It would have been irresponsible to leave the mess. Especially right outside Aberdeen’s workplace.

  “Ranulf! Is he back, finally?” Aberdeen had always taken great pleasure in calling Tinker by his given birth name. He was one of the rare Lost Boys who actually had one; it had been stitched into the blanket Retcher had found him swaddled in.

  “I’m back, whether I want to be or not,” Tinker said dolefully.

  Aberdeen raised his arms in the air and waved his hands about wildly. “Come here, kiddo. Let me see you! It’s been too long.”

  The goblin chef was almost as dramatic as Hubble. “It’s only been a couple of months,” Tinker said, but he obligingly walked over and bent his face down for inspection. Aberdeen’s strong fingers flew across Tinker’s face: the bridge of his nose, the furrow of his brow, the lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

  “Handsome as ever!” Aberdeen pulled him into an enthusiastic embrace. “And so much bigger since the summer. Francis! William! Stop gobbling up all my berries and fetch our growing boy another slice of cake.”

  Refusing food from Aberdeen was about as futile as refusing Retcher, so Tinker focused on something else. “Francis?” he asked.

  “Ain’t my name to you, Ranulf,” Fork spat. “Only Aberdeen gets to call me that.”

  “I needed an assistant, and we discovered that randomly yelling ‘Fork’ in a kitchen confuses things rather quickly,” said Aberdeen.

  “I didn’t know either of you had an interest in cooking,” Tinker said to the twins.

  “Got me an interest in food,” said Fork. “Soos-chefs get to taste everything.”

  “And eat all the failures,” Willie added cheerfully.

  “Francis and William have become surprisingly invaluable to me,” said Aberdeen. “I believe they have a true aptitude for the culinary arts.”

  At the moment, the twins showed an aptitude for throwing overripe berries at each other. Aberdeen picked up the wooden spoon beside him and banged it against the table. “Boys! What have we learned?”

  Fork and Willie immediately stopped their shenanigans and stood at attention. “Not to waste food,” Fork said sheepishly.

  “And never to rearrange the spice cabinet,” said Willie. “Or anything else.”

  Tinker had done his own stint as Aberdeen’s assistant many summers ago. For the kitchen to function around the blind chef, everything needed to be kept in a very specific, orderly fashion. Tinker also knew Aberdeen’s tricks when it came to punishing mischievous, hungry young boys.

  “There was an unfortunate hot pepper incident a few weeks back,” Aberdeen said with mock concern, “but everything’s ship shape now. Right, boys?”

  “Yes, chef!”

  Aberdeen smiled at the twins’ response, almost as if he could see their salute. Fork began to clean up the berry mess—mostly with his tongue—while Willie wrapped up another piece of apple cake in paper and delivered it to Tinker. It was still warm.

  “Thank you again for the apple cake,” Tinker told Aberdeen. “It’s my favorite part about being back in the city. And you’ve done wonders with the new recipe.”

  “Thank Pickafur for that,” said the chef. “Though I do wish he’d stay out of my kitchen. Every time he tromps through in those disgusting boots, the whole place reeks of cows and chickens. My tastebuds are completely useless until it airs out.”

  “Chickens?” asked Tinker.

  “We have a whole coop now!” Fork announced.

  “Eggs for days,” said Willie.

  “Such an abundance that today we’re trying our hands at berry soufflé,” said Aberdeen. “Wish us luck!”

  “Better yet, wish us lots and lots of failures,” said Willie.

  Tinker laughed. He embraced Aberdeen and kissed the chef heartily on the cheek. “Best of luck, chef. I look forward to sampling your final product.”

  “It will be an honor, my prince,” Aberdeen replied solemnly.

  Tinker was glad that Aberdeen could not see how much he hated being called “prince.” Thankfully, if Retcher noticed Tinker’s reaction, he did not say anything. Ignoring Aberdeen’s sentimentality, Fork and Willie began regaling Retcher with stories they’d heard about legendary soufflés.

  “I voted for you,” Aberdeen whispered into Tinker’s ear. “Just so you know.”

  Tinker blinked several times in rapid succession. “I’m sorry, what? You voted for what?”

  “For you to be king,” the chef said, as if the Lost Boys coming together to decide anything wasn’t a monumentally rare event. “Maker announced that he was dropping Quin in a deep dark hole as punishment for something. He didn’t care to explain. Retcher didn’t openly oppose the king’s decision, but he pointed out that Maker wouldn’t be able to leave Goblin City as he’d planned, because we wouldn’t have a king. So we picked one, right then and there.”

  Tinker could hardly believe his ears. “You. All of you?”

  “Yes,” said Aberdeen. “As far as I could tell. Every goblin who was there, anyway. It was a fairly unanimous decision.”

  “But…why me?”

  Aberdeen gave him a smirk. “Because you make things better, my dear boy. Having you home is a joyous occasion for us all.”

  Tinker pinched the bridge of his nose as the chef’s explanation sank in. Tinker could be mad at Maker all he wanted for pulling him out of Harmswood right when the pieces of his life finally started coming together…but he couldn’t be mad at his goblin brothers.

  The Lost Boys needed him in the Goblin City. They wanted him there.

  Emotions overwhelmed Tinker, but he forced himself not to let them show. He wasn’t even sure how he would have expressed them if he did. The image of Bellamy’s angelic smile flashed in his mind.

  He knew exactly what Bellamy would say about this. She’d tell him that she loved him…right before she reminded him of the importance of family and his responsibility to his people. She’d never allow him to leave Goblin City without a king to lead it.

  Oh, Bellamy.

  Tinker knew he should think about something else, but he couldn’t. This was too important.

  When they were far enough away from the kitchen, Retcher turned to Tinker. “We don’t have to go straight to Maker’s quarters if you don’t want.” He paused, and then went on. “If you need more time to think of a way to get out of this, I can find some more errands for us to run.”

  Tinker almost smiled at that. His mentor knew him all too well. But deep in the pit of his stomach, Tinker felt like he was going to be sick again.

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Are you going to throw your apple cake in Maker’s face before you refuse him?” Retcher’s brow furrowed. He coughed again and cleared his throat. “I don’t mind, whatever you decide to do. I just want to be prepared.”

  Tinker had almost forgotten the carefully wrapped cake he held in his hand. “No. None of t
hat.”

  “So what do you plan to do when he hands you his crown?”

  Tinker took a deep breath. “I’m going to accept it.”

  9

  Hubble, ever the director at heart, took point on organizing the whole adventure, from escaping Harmswood to Tinker’s (hopeful) recovery. Natalie played devil’s advocate, skillfully poking as many holes in the plan as she could so that Hubble could preemptively address them. Amiable Sam quietly gathered information and collected allies from all over the school.

  Bellamy brought the coffee.

  When the fairy and the kobold butted heads over Bellamy’s lack of participation, Hubble pointed out that she was too visible. Bellamy had always been Harmswood’s constant light of cheerful optimism. Now, more than ever, everyone was watching her. Teachers were concerned about Bellamy’s physical and emotional well-being in the wake of the masquerade. The students waited with bated breath, knowing that something big was going to happen without knowing when.

  “You’re the perfect distraction,” said Hubble. “The absolute best thing you can do right now is nothing at all.”

  As frustrating as it was, Bellamy knew Hubble was right. Reluctantly, she’d allowed him to take the lead.

  Meanwhile, she carried on the best she could. She threw herself into the Frozen in Fear Festival and helped out wherever needed. She studied like mad for every midterm, not that she could recall a word of the tests once she’d taken them.

  Her answer to the refraction question on her Physics exam had been stained with silent tears.

  Bellamy smiled and laughed and cheered with great fervor. She bid farewell to the friends who left for winter break. If it was more difficult for her to do those things than ever before, no one noticed. Bellamy went on lifting everyone’s spirits except her own, distracting herself with activities that in turn distracted everyone else from the plans her crew was making on the sly.

  Inside, Bellamy counted down the moments until she could see Tinker again.

  They met in Hubble’s room the day of their escape. It was easier to meet there—girls were mostly allowed to come and go as they pleased in the boys’ wing during daylight hours, but the rules were much stricter the other way around. Some of the female students turned into creatures that ate men after midnight.

  “I keep waiting for Hubble to straighten up,” Bellamy said to Natalie as she set the Hallowed Bean coffee carrier on the table. “It still looks like Tinker just stepped out, doesn’t it? I keep feeling like he’s going to walk back through that door any minute. And then he doesn’t, and it hurts all over again.”

  “He will.” Natalie squeezed Bellamy’s hand. “Soon. We’re going make sure of it.”

  But it was Sam who walked in through the door instead, his arms laden with yards of gray-green fabric.

  “It’s about time, slow-poke,” growled Hubble.

  Natalie smacked the kobold on the arm. “Hey! I’m the only one who’s allowed to verbally abuse my brother in that fashion.” She pointed to the Hallowed Bean cups. “Drink up. Maybe it will make you less of a grouch.”

  Hubble gave Natalie a growl that would have made a feral wolf proud. Until then, Bellamy had not realized just how many of Hubble’s teeth were pointed. Perhaps the ancient fairy tales about rogue bands of bloodthirsty kobolds weren’t that far off after all. “We have to toast Tinker first,” he said through those teeth.

  “Like we do at the beginning of every meeting,” said Sam. “It’s tradition.”

  “And necessary today, more than ever. Here, hand me that cup back real quick.” Bellamy popped the lids on all of the drinks and proceeded to give each one a healthy dose of fairy dust. “For good luck.”

  “Is this enough to make me fly?” Hubble asked hopefully.

  “Not quite,” Bellamy said with a smile.

  “I didn’t think your own fairy dust affected you,” said Sam.

  “It won’t hurt. Besides, your good luck is my good luck.” Bellamy lifted her own cup. “For one…”

  “…for all,” they answered, and then sipped.

  “I feel like this occasion calls for drinks we should guzzle,” said Hubble. “This coffee is too hot.”

  “But amazing,” Sam said with a healthy swig. “Thanks, Bell.”

  “You’re welcome,” the fairy said with a smile. “And that’s not all I’ve brought you.”

  From the magic pocket in her skirt, Bellamy pulled the three extra pieces of tin from the goblins’ Mantle of Majesty.

  “Four of these fell on the day the Lost Boys made Tinker their heir. Kai fixed them for me. It just seemed…important…for us to wear these on our quest.” The minute the explanation left her lips, it sounded ridiculous. “But of course, you don’t have to if you don’t—”

  Natalie snatched one of the bits out of Bellamy’s hand. “Girl, stop yammering and pass them around already. You got another piece of ribbon?”

  Bellamy hadn’t removed her own necklace since Tinker’s disappearance—the blue ribbon was beginning to fade, but she didn’t care. Some superstitious part of her thought that the longer she wore it, the better the chance would be for Tinker’s return. “I brought some leather to use, if y’all have somethin’ to cut it with.”

  “Of course,” said Hubble.

  “Here. Tie mine on.” Natalie turned her back to Bellamy as Hubble hopped up to fetch the scissors.

  Sam flipped his own piece of tin between his fingers. “Tinker would have wanted us to have these. Thank you, Bellamy.”

  “This officially makes us King’s Men,” said Hubble.

  “Almost-king,” Sam clarified.

  “Rogue Prince,” said Natalie.

  Bellamy snipped the piece of leather dangling from Natalie’s back and threaded it through Sam’s piece of tin. “Rogue Prince. I like that.”

  “Says the princess,” Hubble muttered.

  “I’m not sure I deserve that,” she said. Of all the ways Bellamy imagined this plan could play out, and all the ways she’d imagined herself back by Tinker's side, she had never considered herself a princess.

  “Why not?” asked the kobold. “Our entire plan hinges around you.”

  “You’re our ace in the hole,” Sam said as he emptied his cup.

  “Really?” asked Bellamy. “I thought y’all were just bringin’ me along for the coffee.”

  “Are you kidding?” Hubble fidgeted as Bellamy tied the last piece of tin around his neck. “In a city full of goblins, you’re a weapon of mass destruction.”

  Bellamy’s fingers stilled on the knot. She hadn’t considered that either. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Hubble shrugged. “Neither do we. But the threat alone is power.”

  “You gotta wonder why no fairy ever walked into Goblin City and took it over before this,” said Sam.

  “There’s nothing there a fairy would want,” said Hubble. “The king of the trash pile is typically safe in his domain.”

  Bellamy didn’t find Hubble’s comment particularly amusing, but Sam laughed so hard at the joke that he snorted.

  “Job security, am I right?” Hubble added with a wiggle of his silver eyebrows.

  Sam doubled over with giggles.

  Natalie eyed her brother before turning to Bellamy. “You meant coffee and hot chocolate, right?”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “When you said ‘I’ll bring coffee,’ please tell me you meant three coffees and one hot chocolate. For Sam.”

  Bellamy’s eyes widened. “Sam said he wanted coffee this time, to fortify himself for our big adventure. He said it would be fine since the full moon passed a few days ago.”

  Natalie sighed. “Never believe anything my brother says. Especially when he wants something.”

  Bellamy’s heart sank. “Did I just kill the plan?”

  “No,” said Natalie. “We can still execute the plan. It’s just going to be a little more…challenging. BOYS!” Natalie pounded her fist on the coffee table to get their attention
. “Focus, please. Let’s go over this one last time.”

  “Me first! Me first!” Sam said excitedly. “I will go down in approximately five-point-three minutes to work my volunteer shift in the library.”

  “Is one of the gargoyles down there now?” Bellamy asked.

  “Yeah,” said Sam. “It’s Ace. We’re good.”

  “The rest of us will enter the library in fifteen minute intervals, so as not to raise suspicion,” said Hubble. “I’ll bring the cloaks—no sense in putting them on until we’re ready to cross through the mirror.”

  “And if you’re caught with a bag full of costumes, no one will think anything of it,” said Natalie. “I’ll bring the pack with the supplies.”

  “I wanna bring the snacks!” Sam said adamantly.

  Bellamy winced. She had a sinking feeling that this over-excited version of Sam was going to blow their cover before they even got to the traveling mirror, and it would be all her fault.

  “Fine,” said Natalie. “We will rendezvous in the stacks at the top of the hour. But where?”

  “Not the 900s,” said Hubble. “Too many ghosts hang around biographies. I don’t want them giving us away.”

  “The 300s then,” said Natalie. “Costumes and customs.”

  “That should be safe enough,” said Hubble. “If there’s anyone else in the library at that time, Ace can distract them.”

  “I will steal the key to the vault!” Sam announced.

  “Yes, Master Thief,” Natalie said calmly. “Just make sure you’re a little quieter than you are right now.”

  “I will be as quiet as a mouse!” Sam whisper-yelled.

  “At which point, we will all slip into the vault and hop through the mirror and no one will be any the wiser,” said Hubble.

  “And what if we get caught?” Bellamy couldn’t help but ask.

  Those silver eyebrows raised mischievously. “We improvise. Now, soldier, hop to it!”

  “Yes, sir!” Sam saluted Hubble, snapped up the pack that was filled with food and first-aid supplies, and fled down the hall at breakneck speed.