relied on his senses, closing his eyes and seeking. Finally he caught the faintest glimmer, like a spark far in the distance, and as he homed in on that spark, he began to feel them, closer and closer until he stood before Deviltree.

“The child thief’s not here,” he snarled beneath his breath. But she is, his dark-skinned bitch. I sense her pain. A smile slowly snuck across his face. To take her from him. Cut her into pieces, leave her head upon the spit, after all that fuss to save her. Why, that would bring him to his knees. He laughed. Give him a taste of what it is to lose that which is dear.

Ulfger pushed on the door. It was solid and locked tight. He circled the tree, but found no way in. He just needed someone to slide the bolt. He wondered if he could make one of the children do that. If he could just push them, like with the doves.

He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, felt for them, grasping for a hold. He found the troll sleeping in the loft above. Ulfger quickly moved on. The old troll was full of tricks and unknown secrets, and Ulfger was afraid he just might touch him back. He located a girl, but she was too deep in sleep; next to her a boy, but he too was in a deep slumber. Ulfger found another boy, this one entrenched in dreams, the boy’s mind fairly danced with them, and no matter how hard Ulfger tried he couldn’t break through. He moved on, growing impatient, probing, searching until he found something else, something very intriguing: a boy by himself in a small room. This one wasn’t asleep, not by far. This one’s mind was open—wide open. Ulfger could feel the anger boiling off this boy, so much rage and hatred, both for himself and for them. The child was mad with it. And Ulfger realized this madness left him open, and so vulnerable.

Ulfger sent a thought, pushed it into the boy’s head. Open the door. The boy didn’t respond. Open the door. Nothing. Open the door.

Ulfger’s brow tightened with frustration. And then all at once he understood the nature of this great gift Avallach had bestowed upon him. He couldn’t control minds, after all, couldn’t make people do things they didn’t want to. He could only push them, push the workings that were already in place, such as fear, or hatred, or jealousy. He probed again and found something good, something he knew he could use.

Murder, he thought and pushed the notion at the boy, and to his surprise, to his utter delight, it only took that nudge, that tiny whiff, and murder blossomed.

Nick dreamed, and for once the dream was peaceful. He played in the Lady’s Garden, chasing the wild faeries while the Lady sat upon a throne and watched. A warm breeze blew lightly across a pond, it smelled of honeysuckle and spring water. The faeries giggled and flew up into a tree. Nick flew after them and perched alongside them. It was then that he realized that he’d sprouted wings, that he wasn’t any larger than a bird, and, odder than that, he was fine with this. What could be better than being a faerie in the Lady’s Garden? The Lady smiled at him, like one of her children. Nick was happy, content, and wished for nothing more.

Nick heard someone call his name; the voice was familiar but he couldn’t place it at first, it was so far away. It was that other woman, he realized, the one he’d left behind. Nick felt a tickle in the back of his mind, something he needed to do for her, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about her, not now, he was just too busy playing.

A shadow fell across the grounds. A round wood door stood in the garden. Nick heard scratching coming from behind it. Something wanted in, wanted in badly. Nick looked to the Lady; she looked frightened. A shrill cry cut across the garden, something in great pain; it rang in his head, louder, and louder—

Nick awoke; for the first time since he’d arrived, he wasn’t covered in sweat and his stomach didn’t burn. Yet he still felt uneasy. He glanced at the round door. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister was on the other side, waiting to be let in.

There was no sign that Peter and the Devils had come back yet. He wondered how late it was. Cricket and Danny were asleep in their cages, the long day looking to have caught up with them. They’d moved Sekeu’s cage over near the fireplace. He watched her twist fitfully in her sleep; her face appeared troubled, as though she were having a bad dream. Nick glanced to Leroy’s cage—it was empty.

Nick caught a faint sound, a squeal. It came again, a strained laugh or maybe a cry, hard to tell. Again, a faint sound, but this time Nick recognized it as a scream, something in pain. It came from the privy.

What the hell? he thought and crawled from his cage. It was eerie with all the Devils gone. He listened, could hear the troll’s snores coming from the loft above, then the squeal, a long squeal. It sent a chill up his spine and he wondered how such a small sound could be so terrible.

Nick crossed the floor to the privy. The door was slightly ajar and a thin, flickering light escaped through the crack. Nick laid his hand on the door and started to push it inward, when it flew open and he was face to face with Leroy. But it was as though Leroy didn’t even see him; the boy’s eyes were looking past him toward the round door.

“He’s here,” Leroy whispered and shoved past Nick.

Before Nick could say or do anything, another painful squeal came from the privy. He glanced in, and his eyes went wide. There, on the stone next to the toilet pit, was a single crumbled pixie wing, a strand of bloody blue flesh dangling from the end.

The sharp squeal again, like a mouse in the teeth of a cat. It came from the toilet pit. Nick didn’t want to look, but he inched forward anyway and peered down the shaft. He saw two blue pixies tangled in the stringy black webbing, one a boy, the other a girl with a mane of wispy white hair. The girl appeared unharmed, but the boy looked dead, his body broken as though he’d been crushed, two bloody gashes on his back where his wings had been torn away.

The girl let loose a chilling scream and the blue glow of her skin pulsated, lighting up the shaft, and Nick saw them, far down the pit among the shit and stink, hundreds of black spiders, the blue radiance glittering off their tiny, cold eyes. He could hear their clatter as they scrambled up the web. The girl screamed again and fought to free herself.

The spiders reached the boy, swarmed over him, and the boy let out a shrill wail. “Oh, God!” Nick cried, upon realizing the boy still lived. “Oh, good God!” The spiders tore the boy from the web, pulled him down into the pit, and he disappeared beneath their black, oily bodies.

The spiders came for the girl.

Get her out, Nick told himself. Now! Hurry! “NO!” he said harshly. She’s too far down. There’s no way. No—way! Yet he found himself down on one knee, his hand hovering above the pit. “No! No!” he spat through clenched teeth. Then the spiders were on her. She screamed and Nick plunged his entire arm into the pit, tearing down through the gummy webbing. He grabbed the pixie and in doing so also grabbed a handful of spiders. He could feel their hard, hairy legs and soft, soggy bodies as they writhed in his grasp, felt their hot secretions spurt into his hand as he tugged them from the web.

A jab of pain, like a wasp sting, hit his palm, then another and another. He cried out, but didn’t let go of the girl. He sat up quick, yanking his arm and the pixie from the pit. Long, syrupy strings of web stretched and snapped as he pulled away. The spiders clung to his hand like leeches, their flat, tick-like bodies creased and wrinkled, glistening with sticky, milky goo. He dropped the girl to the stones and frantically slapped and clawed the spiders from his arm, leaping to his feet, trying to stomp them as they skittered about like crabs, darting back into the pit.

Angry red welts dotted his hand and wrist. He wiped at his arm, trying to peel away the smelly webbing. He noticed the pixie; she too was covered in filth and webbing. Her wings trembled and her eyes were full of terror, but she looked like she might be okay.

Nick heard Leroy’s laugh.

Leroy walked into the flickering lantern light, stopped, and peered in. Nick saw that Leroy held a sword, then realized it was Maldiriel. Leroy smiled a strange, vacant smile and walked on.

“What the fuck?” Nick said under his breath and rushed from the privy.

It took a second for Nick’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. Where did he go? Nick saw Leroy in front of the fireplace. He stood over Sekeu’s cage. And then, like it was nothing to him, like he was simply poking a bundle of hay, Leroy brought the sword up and shoved it down through the cage into Sekeu’s neck.

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