Bones of Faerie

smelled of ash and dead trees.

“You did it,” Allie said, but not as if she were glad.

I opened my eyes. Above I saw a molten blue sky, ahead of me an endless black plain. A few charred trunks jutted out of the dead land. Nothing else: just Matthew and me, Allie and Tallow beside her, Rebecca in her sling with her eyes scrunched closed and her head buried against my shoulder.

I staggered. The sky seemed so heavy, pressing like lead toward the earth. Matthew stood with me, not releasing his hold. Ash crunched beneath our feet. Water beaded on my jacket and Rebecca's sling and the backs of Matthew's and my hands, evaporating into the dry air. My hair was damp, too, as was Matthew's. Water droplets fell toward the earth but dried before they reached it.

Above, the sun shone like hammered copper. Tallow nudged Allie's hand, but she didn't move to scratch the cat's ears. She reached down and sifted a handful of ash through her wet fingers. The wind picked up, blowing the ash away and leaving black streaks on her hands and face. No bird flew. No animal called. No tree whispered to the wind. Faerie—yet I knew now Faerie hadn't always been like this.

“It's worse than Caleb told me,” Allie whispered. “I had no idea.” She looked down at her ash-stained hands. “The fey don't live forever, you know, no matter what people think. Harder to kill, harder to heal. That's what Caleb says.”

The fey folk lost as much as we did during the War.

My people had done this. Ash blew into my eyes and clogged my throat. Whatever power had done this, it was better gone, along with the ways of making nylon and plastic and knives that kept their edge.

Behind me someone began to sing in a voice dry as old corn husks:

“Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping
All through the night…”

I stiffened. Wind burned the dampness from my face. Slowly I turned, scarcely daring to breathe, knowing hope had no place in this dead land.

Behind me lay a small lake, a stone's throw across. Orange flames danced beneath its surface, as if the lake bottom was on fire. The lake was perfectly round and perfectly still. Less than a hundred paces away a figure huddled on the far bank, rocking back and forth as she sang. My throat felt dry, but that might have been from the heat.

I walked around to her, ignoring heat, ignoring wind, ignoring sky. Matthew and Allie and Tallow followed, but their steps seemed far away. Only the woman by the lake mattered. I knelt beside her and reached out slowly, afraid this was some vision that would dissolve at my touch.

“Mom,” I said, and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Mom stared into the water and sang on, as if I hadn't spoken, as if I weren't there at all.

Chapter 14

Flames rose from beneath the water and subsided again. Mom stretched her hands into the lake as if reaching for something. Her arms were red, burned—she didn't seem to notice. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Red marks and ash streaked her face and neck. A pack lay open beside her, half-filled with black dust. I saw a canvas bag and a couple empty water bottles within.

Weight settled like lead in my stomach. Rebecca reached toward Mom, made an uncertain sound, and drew back.

I shook Mom's shoulder, first gently, then harder. She leaned away from me, her hair trailing into the lake. I bent around to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dull as ash.

“Mom!” I put force into that call, as much force as I could. Mom sang on, unhearing. I thought I might throw up. Sweat trickled down my neck, evaporating before it could get beneath my sweater. I felt something cool against my skin and reached beneath the sweater to clutch Caleb's token. I took the chain from around my neck and offered it to Mom, praying there was some power in the disk.

For just a moment her eyes focused and her song fell silent. She grabbed the disk, jerking the chain from my hand. Then her gaze changed to something young and far away.

“Tara,” Matthew whispered. His bare feet were black with ash. He rubbed at his scar as if it itched something fierce.

Allie reached tentatively out and touched Mom's cheek. “Something's wrong,” the girl said. “I don't understand. She's lost, but not only lost. Something's wrong.”

Mom's lips moved, forming words I couldn't hear. Around her neck her own disk hung, the veined metal bright in the sun.

“Mom.” She had to answer. I'd make her answer.

She stared into the glowing water, as if she saw something I couldn't. Visions, I thought, but I didn't know whether the visions came from the lake or from somewhere inside her. I gripped her shoulder tighter. I remembered Caleb grabbing my arm, forcing my gaze to a mirror. He'd followed me.

I drew my hand abruptly away. I couldn't enter my mother's thoughts like Caleb had entered mine. I had no right.

But I also couldn't lose her. I couldn't let the darkness swallow her, not after I'd come so far. I turned to Matthew. “Be my watcher,” I said.

Allie drew a sharp breath. “Mind injuries aren't like other hurts, Liza. You can't go in and heal this as if it were a break or a fever.”

I forced my voice steady. “I'm not trying to heal it. I'm just trying to find her.” I'd worry about healing later. I untied Rebecca's sling and set her down beside me. “Matthew?”

He looked first at Mom, then at me. “I'll watch you. I won't let you get lost.”

No one could promise I wouldn't get lost, not when magic was involved.

“Trust me,” Matthew said, and he gave a lopsided smile. I did trust him, whether it made sense to or not.

Tallow stalked to Rebecca's side as if keeping a watch of her own. Allie threw a handful of ash across the plain. “Be careful, Liza. I didn't heal you so you could get yourself killed some other way, you know.”

“I know,” I told her.

Mom still clutched Caleb's disk. I gently placed my hand over hers. Her skin was hot. I followed her gaze to the water. Flames roared up, and for a moment I felt I was falling through the fire. It burned all around me, and in the flames I saw—

Sun through leaves, a soft breeze swaying high branches. I walked without fear through a blue- green forest. No vines lashed out, no thorns tore at my boots. The mossy earth felt soft beneath my feet. A small bird flew past with a twig in its mouth, building a nest amid the leaves. Those leaves were perfectly round, bright with afternoon light. Or maybe the light came from within the leaves. I couldn't tell—

A young man and a young woman walked through the forest, their fingers interlaced, a hawk riding on the man's shoulder. Caleb again, and with him—

I'd seen her before, but I hadn't known her until now. How could she and Caleb— He should have been younger then, but who knew how long the faerie folk lived? I reached for the woman's hand. “Mom.”

She drew back, turning to Caleb. “I don't understand,” she said. To Caleb, not to me.

“It is time for you to return to your own people, Tara. Past time.”

Mom shook her head. “No. There is nothing for me there. And if I return, my father will never let