Luidaeg, into the door in the tree.
Entering a shallowing isn’t quite like entering a proper knowe. The separation between the worlds isn’t as pronounced, and the disorientation passes faster. This passage was even more subtle than the norm, since the air in Muir Woods was already so clean, and the night was already so silent. We moved from the mortal world into the fringes of the Summerlands without missing a step. The Luidaeg’s spell of silence must have broken when she spoke, because I could hear our footsteps again, little scuffs against the hard-packed clay of the tunnel floor.
There were no sounds but our footsteps as we walked through the dark of the shallowing. The clay under our feet gave way to smooth gray stone. I shivered and sped up. We were getting closer to the children—we had to be. This was the place, and this was the type of stone I’d seen through Dean’s memories. They had to be somewhere up ahead, waiting for rescue.
And then there was light.
It was subtle at first, the faintest decrease in the darkness surrounding us. It grew brighter until I could see the walls of the tunnel without needing to be right up against them. There was a corner just ahead; whatever was casting the light had to be on the other side. I sped up, sticking close to the wall in case someone was waiting with a lantern and a crossbow. When I reached the corner, I stopped, listening. There was no sound. Gripping the hilt of my knife a little tighter, I stepped forward.
A hallway with oak-paneled walls and the same stone floor extended on the other side of the corner. That wasn’t what caught my attention. The light was coming from a lantern hanging from a hook on one wall, and it seemed to be moving. I took a step closer, and realized that it was lit, not with a candle or an oil wick, but with three live pixies. They were crammed into the tiny glass rectangle, leaving them with barely enough room to move their wings. Quentin’s breath hissed through his teeth as he saw them, and Tybalt scowled. Connor looked away.
“Well?” whispered the Luidaeg, stepping up behind me. “What do you want to do about that? We can’t have them alerting Rayseline to our presence. And we could use the light.”
“Hang on.” I stepped forward and took the lantern down from the wall, bringing it close to my face. The pixies inside looked at me with mingled hope and terror. Keeping my voice low, I said, “I need your help. We need to have light to find the people who put you in this lantern. If I let you out, will you stay and help us?”
The pixies eyed me suspiciously before turning to each other and starting to speak in their rapid, high-pitched language. Finally, the smallest of the three turned to me and nodded, folding her arms to punctuate the gesture.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered, and opened the panel on the side of the lantern.
All three pixies immediately flew out, performing an elaborate series of aerial acrobatics in the narrow confines of the hall. Then they turned and zoomed over our heads, vanishing into the hallway up ahead.
“Oh, good call,” grumbled Connor.
“Wait.” The pixies in Goldengreen were pests, thieves, and tricksters . . . but they kept their word. I had to hope these pixies would do the same.
The seconds ticked by. I was about to admit defeat and move on into the dark when the light came racing back along the tunnel, and our three pixies flew back into view—now joined by six of their cousins. Quentin grinned.
“They just wanted to get their friends out,” he said.
“Let’s hope Rayseline wasn’t using one of those lamps,” said the Luidaeg . . . but she was smiling to herself as one of the pixies landed on her shoulder. The other pixies found perches on the rest of us, their multicolored wings casting a soft glow through the hall.
“Come on,” I said, and started walking again.
The pixies stayed with us as we made our way through the darkened hall, pausing only to free more of their people from lanterns. The sight of them crammed in there was enough to turn my stomach, and only intensified my need to find Gillian as soon as possible. Pixies are essentially defenseless when they’re not swarming. Using them as living light bulbs wasn’t just wrong; it was unnecessarily cruel. There are plenty of spells and plenty of candles in the world.
We’d been walking through the shallowing for a good ten minutes when we came to the end of the hallway. A large oak door filled most of the final wall, standing ever so slightly open. I gestured to Connor, who nodded and slotted an arrow into his crossbow, raising it to shoulder height. Quentin and Tybalt stepped back, pressing themselves against the wall. Only the Luidaeg stayed where she was, arms folded, scowling.
I crouched, making myself as small a target as possible, and pushed the door slowly open. Then I straightened, all caution forgotten, as the scene in front of me made my mouth go dry and my blood start to boil all in the same instant.
Gillian was sitting in front of me, dressed in bloodstained sweatpants and an over-sized T-shirt. She wasn’t sitting up on her own; no, she was held upright by loops of rope, tied into thick knots and binding her to a heavy chair. Her ankles were tied to one of the chair legs, and her hands were bound behind her. She raised her head at the sound of the door opening, and her eyes widened when she saw me standing there. We must have looked like something out of a fantasy novel to her, all pointed ears and inhuman eyes, surrounded by the constantly-moving swirl of the pixies.
“M-Mom?” she whispered, her voice raspy and dry. “Is that—are you—Mom?”
“Oh, baby.” I took a step into the room, trusting the others to watch for any dangers. All I wanted was to get to Gillian as fast as possible, to cut her free and hold her, and never, never let her go. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
“Mom . . .” She swallowed hard, the gesture seeming to take everything she had. Then she whispered, in a barelyaudible voice, “Run.”
“It’s too late for that,” said Rayseline, her voice coming acid-sweet and oily from the hallway. We all turned, even the Luidaeg, to see her standing behind us with a longbow in her hands, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. Four Goblins stood behind her, their weapons raised. “It’s been too late for quite some time, don’t you think?” Her smile was radiantly bright. “I’m so glad you could come to my party. We’re all going to have
THIRTY
“RAYSEL—” CONNOR BEGAN. “Shut up, Connor. I have nothing to say to you. As for the rest of you, stay where you are, or the girl dies.” Raysel took a casual step forward. “And you, sea bitch, you have no power here. I am a descendant of Titania, and I deny you the right to stand against me, or to aid those who would. Do you hear and honor my words?”
“. . . yes,” hissed the Luidaeg, fury dancing in her eyes. “I hear and honor your words.” The glance she cast in my direction confirmed my sudden fear: she wouldn’t be able to help us. Power like hers always comes with a price. The phrase Rayseline uttered was apparently part of the price the Luidaeg had to pay.
“Then stand to the side and hold your tongue. This is not your business anymore.” Raysel lifted her chin, jerking it imperiously toward the wall. Silently snarling, the Luidaeg moved as she was ordered, glaring daggers all the way.
“Rayseline.” I tried to put my body between her and my daughter without it being too obvious that I was doing it. If I’d had any doubts about her willingness to kill Gillian before, her own words had destroyed them. “Shut up or the girl dies” didn’t leave much room for argument. “We just want to talk.”
“Talk? You want to talk, so you come skulking through my new home in the dark, carrying weapons, damaging my things? I don’t know what kind of fool you think I am, October, but no one brings the sea witch and the King of Cats when they just want to ‘talk.’ ” Rayseline’s smile slipped, revealing the fury behind it. “You never had any intention of talking. You came to
It took a moment for me to realize that “damaging my things” meant freeing the captive pixies. My stomach rolled. The pixies had vanished the moment Raysel came into the room, diving for whatever cover they could find. One of them was hiding in my hair. Its body was plastered against my neck, wings vibrating with every anxious breath. As for the rest of them . . . I just hoped they could escape before Raysel bottled them up again.
