Outrage flew across Mags’s face as she lifted her eyes from the book. “So, you’re saying this Prudence lady just went and tied us together, is that it? She asked for long lives—which was nice and stuff, but she just ignored the cost—maybe didn’t even ask about it?”
“We’ll never know exactly what happened. But … yes.” The girl was sharp. Maybe even sharper than Poppy herself—though Poppy hated to admit it. Mags was easily three or four years younger.
“Hmph.” Mags shook her tight curls and crossed her arms. “That’s a terrible promise—that’s a promise that should be broken!”
Poppy startled. She hadn’t thought about it quite like that, but Mags’s words rang true. Prudence’s promise was wrong from the start. “But … we can’t,” she realized out loud. “We can’t break it. Our ancestors agreed. They sealed the promise with their blood—and they’re all dead. None of them can take it back.”
“We’re tied together,” Mack added. “It’s done.”
Mags made a huff of breath through her nose that reminded Poppy so much of Mack she almost laughed. “So,” Mags huffed again. “If the Grimwood attacks us, it falls too? And if we attack it?”
Poppy finished her thought. “Then anything in the Grimwood can attack the Hollows … for real. Tooth for tooth. Blood or bone.”
“Sheesh,” said Peter. “That oak-lady meant business.”
Poppy gave him a sad smile. “I’m not sure she had much choice, or at least, she didn’t think she did.”
“Why didn’t anybody tell us?” Mags folded her arms.
Nula’s tail whipped the other direction. “Because humans have incredibly short memories. You would forget your own names if they weren’t written on your hands during childhood.”
Mags pulled a face, and Peter studied his hands with a perplexed expression.
Poppy leaned in to whisper in Nula’s ear. “Humans don’t write their children’s names on their hands.”
“What? Really?”
Poppy shook her head.
“Well, anyway, you have terrible memories.”
“So.” Mack cracked his knuckles as they approached the town. “Questions answered. Promise kept. Now, let’s go find Poppy’s parents.”
Mags frowned and reached out to grab Poppy’s arm. “When can we do it again?”
Nula laughed. “No fair! That’s a question! Time’s up, Mack said.”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “We’re not the faeries, Nula.” She turned to Mags. “I don’t know. Right now I need to find my parents. Ask me after that.”
Mags held out her hand, and after Poppy shook it, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pretty little wooden whistle. She handed it to Poppy. “Take my extra whistle,” she said, casting a dark look around at her gathering of friends and compatriots. “If things go sideways, use it.” She met Poppy’s eyes. “You blow that whistle, and we’ll come.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Strange Hollow was peaceful with everyone in sleep’s gentle care. Poppy’s footsteps echoed off the sides of the houses. There were signs posted about the curfew at every corner ward. People were to be inside with their doors locked and their wards set by dark. She stopped to look at one. There was a really bad sketch of Mack on it that made him look terrifying.
As soon as they entered the town, Poppy found herself watching Mack. The last time he had walked through Strange Hollow it had been broad daylight. He’d had to hunch over and keep his eyes down to maintain his disguise. Until things went sideways, Poppy thought, wrapping her hand around Mags’s wooden whistle.
Now, despite the dark, Mack tried to take in everything they passed. His eyes were wide, his gaze shooting from one thing to another like spring birds gathering seeds. They paused at one of the low fences and he looked at Poppy expectantly. “Is fencing your house a human thing?” His steps faltered. “Elves only fence pigs.”
“I guess,” Poppy answered. “I think they like to keep everything separate.”
“You don’t have a fence around your house…”
Poppy shrugged.
“Maybe it’s just because they’re all pushed together,” he suggested.
A few more steps and Mack opened his mouth to ask another question. Mags turned around and gave them a scathing look. “Come on,” she hissed. “We have a lot of ground to cover. Mack, you come with me and Peter. There are some empty buildings just to the east.” She pointed at a tall blond boy. “Silas, you take Reva and Thomas and check those outbuildings on the south end of town by the blacksmith’s forge. The rest of you go west. Check the grain silo, and the barns between here and the fog. But hurry, and don’t get caught. We’ll meet back in the square in two hours.”
Mack raised both eyebrows at Poppy as if to say, “Glad she’s on our side,” then did as he was told and moved ahead with Mags.
“Where should Poppy and I look?” Nula called softly.
Mags narrowed her eyes at her. “Check the square, and the marketplace. Don’t go too far.”
Poppy and Nula watched the children scatter, sneaking off to see what they could discover. Moonlight spilled across the cobblestone streets.
Poppy allowed herself the luxury of walking down the middle of the main road as they moved through the center of town. Nula crept along in the shadow of the houses next to Poppy. The road led through the square and toward the market on the far side.
Once they got past the stone clock tower in the center of the square, the road twisted past the brickmakers’s and the herbalist’s, through darkened side streets. Poppy passed house after house, and all, without fail, had their warding bells hung at the top of the doorframes, and a line of salt and iron at the footboard. Most also had lines of salt along their windowsills.
A horrible thought struck Poppy. “Nula? What if … What if my parents
