Ironside by Holly Black

grooves and fissures, letting her mind drift from Corny’s curse and the explanation she didn’t have for running out on her mother’s show. She thought of Roiben instead, standing in front of the entire assemblage of the Unseelie Court, and of the way they’d bowed their heads. But that made her think of all the children they’d snatched from cradles and strollers and swing sets to replace with changelings, or worse. She imagined Roiben’s slender fingers circling flailing, rosy limbs. Looking across the bed, she saw Corny’s fingers instead, each one encased in rubber.
    “We’re going to fix things,” Kaye said.
    “How are we going to do that, exactly?” Corny asked. “Not that I’m doubting you, mind.”
    “Maybe I could take the curse off of you. I have magic, right?”
    He sat up. “You think you can?”
    “I don’t know. Let me get rid of my glamour so I can use whatever I’ve got.” She concentrated, imagining her disguise tearing like cobwebs. Her senses flooded. She could smell the crusts of burnt food in the burners of the stove, the exhaust from cars, the mold inside the walls, and even the filthy snow they’d tracked across the floor. And she felt the iron, heavier than ever, eating away at the edges of her power, as clearly as she felt the brush of wings across her shoulders.
    “Okay,” she said, rolling toward him. “Take off a glove.”
    He removed one and held out the hand to her. She tried to imagine her magic as she’d been told to, like a ball of energy prickling between her palms. She concentrated on expanding it, despite the iron-soaked air. When it settled over Corny’s hands, her skin stung like she clutched nettles. She could change the shape of his fingers, but she couldn’t touch the curse.
    “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said finally, helplessly, letting her concentration lapse and the energy dissipate. Just the attempt had exhausted her.
    “That’s okay. I heard about a guy who breaks spells. A human.”
    “Really? How’d you hear about him?” Kaye fumbled with her pocket.
    Corny turned his face away from her, toward the window. “I forget.”
    “Remember the paper that girl gave me? The Fixer? There’s a place to start. Fixing sounds like what we’re looking for.”
    “You think you have to beep him like a drug dealer?” Corny yawned and put the glove back on. “Your mom is going to totally make us sleep on the floor, isn’t she?”
    Kaye turned to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. His shirt smelled like bug spray and she wondered what the faery who’d cursed him had wanted. She wondered about the other Kaye, still trapped in the Seelie Court. “Do you think I should tell her?” she mumbled into the T-shirt.
    “Tell her what? That we want the bed?”
    “That I’m a changeling. That she has a daughter who got stolen.”
    “Why would you want to do that?” He lifted his arm and Kaye ducked under it, pillowing her head on his chest.
    “Because none of this is real. I don’t belong here.”
    “Where else would you belong?” Corny asked.
    Kaye shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m neither fish nor fowl. What’s left?”
    “Good red herring, I think,” he said. “It’s a fish.”
    “At least I’m good and red.”
    A key rattled in the door.
    Kaye jumped up and Corny grabbed her arm. “Okay, tell her.”
    She shook her head hurriedly. The door opened and Ellen walked into the room, her shoulders dusted with new-fallen snow.
    Kaye reached for the shreds of her glamour to make herself human-seeming, but it came to her uneasily. The magic and the iron had eaten up more of her energy than she’d supposed. “It’s not working,” Kaye whispered. “I can’t change back.”
    Corny snorted. “I guess you’ll have to tell her now.”
    “I heard you guys got into some trouble, eh?” Ellen laughed as she dumped her guitar case on top of the paper-covered kitchen table. She tugged off her coat and dropped it on the floor.
    Kaye