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Ariella stared at us, and I waited to see what she would do, how she would react. Finally she broke into a teasing smile.
“Well, as I’ve seen how Ash treats his ‘associates’ at the Winter Court, I’d have to say you must be an exception to the rule, Robin Goodfellow. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” She glanced at me and winked. “And here I was afraid that Ash didn’t have any friends.”
Puck roared with laughter. “I like her,” he announced as I crossed my arms and tried to look bored and annoyed. They both giggled at my expense, but I didn’t care. Ariella had accepted my “association” without reservation or judgment. I didn’t have to choose. I could keep the best of both worlds without sacrificing either.
I should’ve known it would never last.
“PRINCE,” SAID PUCK’s voice, drawing me out of my dark thoughts, back to the present. “Prince. Oy, ice-boy!”
I blinked and glared at him. “What?”
He smirked and nodded to the sky, where a massive wall of black clouds loomed overhead. “There’s a nasty storm coming. Furball suggests we look for shelter, since this area has a reputation for flash floods. According to him, we should reach the seer sometime tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Wow, aren’t we chatty today.” Puck shook his head as I strode past him, sliding down a washed-out gully to where Grimalkin waited at the bottom. Puck followed easily, continuing to talk. “That’s the most you’ve said to me in two days. What’s going on, ice-boy? You’ve been very broody lately, even for you.”
“Leave it alone, Puck.”
“And here I thought we were doing so well.” Puck sighed dramatically as he matched my pace down the slope. “Might as well tell me, prince. You should know by now that I can’t leave anything alone. I’ll pry it out of you somehow.”
Deep within, something dark stirred. A sleeping giant sensing change in the air, like a forgotten heartbeat, faint but still alive, beginning to resurface. It was something I hadn’t felt, hadn’t allowed myself to feel, in years. The part of me that was pure Unseelie, pure hate and darkness and bloodlust. I lost myself to it once, the day Ariella died. I became something consumed by rage, filled with a black hatred that turned me against my closest friend. I thought I’d buried it when I froze out my emotions, training myself to become numb, to feel nothing.
I could feel it in me now, an old madness, an ancient darkness rising to the surface, filling me with anger. And hate. Wounds that had never really closed, tearing open again, seeping poison into my heart. It disturbed me, and I shoved it down, back into the blackness it had come from. But I could still feel it, pulsing and bubbling just below the surface.
Directed solely at Puck, who was, of course, still talking.
“You know, it’s not healthy to keep things bottled up, prince. The whole brooding thing is really overrated. So, come on, out with it. What’s bothering—”
“I said—” Whirling abruptly, I came face-to-face with Puck, close enough to see my reflection in his startled green eyes. “Leave it alone, Puck.”
For all his buffoonery, Robin Goodfellow was no fool. We’d known each other a long time, both as friends and rivals, and he knew me better than anyone, sometimes better than I knew myself. The irreverent smirk vanished, and his eyes became hard as stone. We stared at each other, inches apart, while the wind picked up and howled around us, stirring up a cyclone of leaves and dust.
“Having second thoughts?” Puck’s voice was soft and dangerous, a far cry from his normal flippancy. “I thought we’d put this behind us for now.”
“Never,” I said, matching his stare. “I can’t ever take it back, Goodfellow. I’m still going to kill you. I swore to her I would.” Lightning flickered and thunder rumbled in the distance as we faced each other with narrowed eyes. “One day,” I said softly. “One day you’ll look up, and I’ll be there. That’s the only ending for us. Don’t ever forget.”
Puck slowly cocked his head, regarding me intently. “Is this Ash talking? Or the oath?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I stepped back, holding his gaze, unwilling to turn my back on him. “It can never be the same, Puck. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that it is.”
“I’ve never forgotten, prince.” Puck watched me with solemn eyes glowing green in the sudden darkness. Lightning flashed through the trees again, and thunder growled an answer. Puck’s next words were nearly lost in the wind. “You’re not the only one with regrets.”
I turned and walked away from him, feeling cold and empty, the darkness coiling around my heart. At the bottom of the slope, Grimalkin sat on a stump, tail curled over his feet, watching us with unblinking golden eyes.
WE FOUND A CAVE, or rather, an annoyed, impatient Grimalkin led us to a cave, seconds before the sky opened up and the rain poured down. As the light rapidly disappeared, I left Puck poking the fire and retreated to a dark corner. Sitting with my back against the wall, I pulled one knee to my chest and glowered into the distant flames.
“And so it begins.”
Grimalkin appeared beside me, seated on a rock, watching Puck tend the campfire. The flames cast a burning orange halo around the cat. I gave him a sideways glance, but he didn’t return it. “What do you mean?”
“I warned you this was no simple quest. I told you before, you and Goodfellow have no idea what lies ahead.” He twitched an ear and shifted on the rock, still watching the fire. “You feel it, do you not? The anger. The darkness.” I blinked in surprise, but Grimalkin paid no heed. “It will only get worse the farther we go.”
“Where are we going?” I asked softly. A sudden hiss from the campfire showed Puck hanging a skinned rabbit over the flames. Where he’d gotten it, I didn’t even want to guess, and I turned back to Grimalkin. “I know we’re going to the seer, but you still haven’t told us where.”
The cait sith pretended not to hear. Yawning, he stretched languidly, raking his claws over the stones, and trotted off to oversee dinner preparations.
Outside, the storm howled and raged, bending trees and blowing rain at a sharp angle across the mouth of the cave. The fire crackled cheerfully, licking at the rabbit carcass, and the smell of roasted meat began to fill the chamber.
And yet, something wasn’t right.
I rose and wandered to the cave mouth, gazing out at the storm. Wind tugged at me, spattering my face with raindrops. Beyond the lip of the cavern, rain skittered over the ground in waves, like silver curtains tossed by the wind.
Something was out there. Watching us.
“Hey, ice-boy.” Puck appeared at my side, peering into the rain with me. He acted perfectly normal, as if the words between us earlier that day had never happened. “Whatcha looking at?”
“I don’t know.” I searched the trees, the shadows, my gaze cutting through the storm, peeling back the darkness, but could see nothing unusual. “It feels like we’re being watched.”
“Huh.” Puck scratched the side of his face. “I don’t feel anything like that. And Furball is still here, so that’s something. You know if there was anything dangerous coming he’d be gone faster than you could say poof. Sure you’re not being paranoid?”
The rain continued to fall, and nothing moved beyond in the darkness and shadow. “I don’t know,” I said again. “Maybe.”
“Well, you can stand here and worry. I’m going to eat. If you see something big and hungry coming at us, just ye—”
“Goodfellow.”
My voice made him pause, then turn back, wary and guarded. We stared at each other by the mouth of the cave, the storm whipping at us and making the campfire flicker.
“Why are you here?”
He blinked, made a halfhearted attempt at humor. “Uh … because I don’t want to get wet?”
I just waited. Puck sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “Do we really have to go through this, iceboy?” he said, and though the words were light, his tone was almost pleading. “I think we both know the reason I’m here.”
“What if I asked you to leave?”
“Why would you want to do that?” Puck grinned, but it quickly faded. “This is about what happened earlier, isn’t it?” he said. “What’s going on, Ash? Two days ago, you were fine. We were fine.”
I glanced over to where Grimalkin sat watching the spitted rabbit with something a bit stronger than curiosity. I could feel the darkness in me rising again, despite my attempts to freeze it out. “I’m going to kill you,” I said softly, and Puck’s eyebrows rose. “Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. Our past is catching up to us, Goodfellow, and this feud has gone on long enough.” I looked back at him, meeting his solemn gaze. “I’m giving you this chance now to leave. Run. Find Meghan, tell her what I’m trying to do. If I don’t come back, take care of her for me.” I felt my chest squeeze tight at the thought of Meghan, of never seeing her again. But at least Puck would be there for her if I failed. “Get out of here, Puck. It would be better for both of us if you were gone.”
“Huh. Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel wanted, prince.” Puck glared at me, not quite able to mask his anger. Pushing himself off the wall, he took a step forward, never looking away. “Here’s a heads-up, though—I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you threaten, bribe, coerce, or beg. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mostly here for her, not you, but I’m betting this isn’t something you can do alone. So you’re going to have to suck it up and get used to me, prince, ‘cause unless you want that duel right here, right now, I’m not leaving. And I can be just as stubborn as you.”
Outside, lightning flickered, turning everything white, and the gale tossed the branches of the trees. Puck and I glared at each other until we were interrupted by a loud pop from the campfire. Breaking eye contact at last, Puck glanced over his shoulder and let out a yelp.
“Hey!” Whirling around, he stalked back toward the fire, and its now-empty spit, waving his arms. “My rabbit! Grimalkin, you sneaky, gray … pig! I hope you enjoy that, ‘cause the next thing over the fire might be you!”
As expected, there was no answer. I smiled to myself and turned back to the rain. The violence of the storm had not abated, nor had my feeling of being watched, though continued searches of the trees and shadows yielded nothing.
“Where are you?” I mused under my breath. “I know you can see me. Why can’t I find you?”
The storm seemed to mock me. I stood, looking out, until the wind finally died down and the rain slowed to a drizzle. All through the night, I stood there, waiting. But whatever was watching me from its mysterious location never made itself known.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE HUNTED
The next day dawned dim and ominous, with a persistent fog that clung to the ground and wrapped everything in opaque silence. Sounds were absorbed into the surrounding white, and it was impossible to see more than ten feet ahead.
We left the cave, following a smug Grimalkin into the wall of mist. The world looked different from the night before, hidden and lurking, the trees dark, crooked skeletons in the mist. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, no small creatures scurried through the undergrowth. Nothing moved or seemed to breathe. Even Puck was affected by the somber mood and offered little conversation as we glided through this still, muffled world.
The feeling of being watched had not dissipated even now, and was making me increasingly uncomfortable. Even more disturbing, I had the sense that something was following us, tracking us through the silent forest. I scanned the surrounding trees, the shadows and the undergrowth, watching, listening for something that seemed out of place. But I could see nothing.
The fog stubbornly refused to lift, and the farther we pushed into the quiet wood, the stronger the feeling became. Finally, I stopped, turning to gaze behind us. Mist crept over the ground and spilled onto the tiny forest path we were following, and through the blanket of white, I could sense something drawing closer.
“There’s something out there,” I muttered as Puck came to stand beside me, also peering into the fog.
“Of course there is,” Grimalkin replied matter-of-factly, leaping onto a fallen tree. “It has been following us since last night. The storm slowed it down a bit, but it is coming fast now. I suggest we hurry if we do not wish to meet it. And we do not, trust me.”
“Is it the witch?” Puck asked, frowning as he stared into the bushes and the trees. “Geez, tie a house’s feet together and you’re marked for life. The old gal can sure hold a grudge, can’t she?”
“It is not the witch,” Grimalkin said with a hint of annoyance. “It is something far worse, I am afraid. Now come, we are wasting time.” He leaped off the branch, vanishing into the mist, as Puck and I shared a glance.
“Worse than the old chicken plucker?” Puck made a face. “That’s hard to believe. Can you think of anyone you’d rather not meet in a spooky old forest, prince?”
“Actually, I can,” I said, and walked away, following Grimalkin through the trees.
“Hey!” Puck scrambled after us. “What’s that supposed to mean, ice-boy?”
The forest stretched on, and Grimalkin never slowed, weaving through trees and under gnarled roots without looking back. I resisted the urge to glance continuously over my shoulder, half expecting the mist to part as whatever was following us lunged onto the path. I hated being hunted, being tracked by some unseen, unknown monster, but Grimalkin seemed determined to outpace it, and if I paused I could lose the cat in the fog. Somewhere behind us, a flock of crows took to the air with frantic cries, piercingly loud in the silence.
“It’s close,” I muttered, my hand dropping to my sword. Grimalkin didn’t look back.
“Yes,” he stated calmly. “But we are almost there.”
“Almost where?” Puck chimed in, but at that moment the mist thinned and we found ourselves on the edge of a gray-green lake. Skeletal trees loomed out of the water, their expanding web of roots looking like pale snakes in the murk. Small, mossy islands rose from beneath the lake, and rope bridges spanned the gulf between them, some sagging low enough to nearly touch the surface.
“There is a colony of ballybogs living on the other side,” Grimalkin explained, hopping lightly to the first rope bridge. He paused to glance back at us, waving his tail. “They owe me a favor. Hurry up.”
Something went crashing through the bushes behind us—a pair of terrified deer, fleeing into the undergrowth. Grimalkin flattened his ears and started across the bridge. Puck and I followed.
The lake wasn’t large, and we reached the other side a few minutes later, facing Grimalkin’s annoyed glare as we stepped onto the muddy bank. Puck and I had systematically cut through each of the bridge ropes after every crossing, so whatever was following us would have to swim. Hopefully, that would slow it down a bit, but it also meant that we had burned our bridges, so to speak, if we wanted to return the same way.
“Uh-oh,” Puck murmured, and I turned around.
A tiny village lay in the mud at the edge of the river, thatch and peat roofs covering primitive huts built into an embankment, peeking out between the roots of enormous trees. Spears lay in the mud, some broken, and the roofs of several huts had been torn off. Silence hung thick over the village, the mist creeping up from the lake to smother what was left of the hamlet.
“Looks like something got here before us,” Puck observed, picking a shattered spear out of the mud. “Did a number on the village, too. No one’s here to welcome us, Grim. We’ll have to try something else.”
Grimalkin sniffed and jumped atop the bank, shaking mud from his paws. “How inconvenient.” He sighed, looking around in distaste. “Now I will never receive my favor.”
In the distance, somewhere beyond the mist coming off the water, there was a splash. Puck looked back and grimaced. “It’s still coming, persistent bastard.”
I drew my sword. “Then we make our stand here.”
Puck nodded, pulling his daggers. “Thought you might say that. I’ll find us some higher ground. Wrestling in the mud just isn’t my cup of tea, unless it involves scantily clad—” He stopped as I shot him a look. “Right,” he muttered. “That hill over there looks promising. I’ll check it out.”
Grimalkin followed my stare, blinking as Puck sloshed his way toward a lumpy mound of green moss and ferns. “That was not there the last time I was here,” he mused softly, narrowing his gaze. “In fact …” His eyes widened.
And he disappeared.
I whirled back, lunging forward as Puck hopped onto the hill, pulling himself up by a twisted root. “Puck!” I shouted, and he glanced back at me, frowning. “Get out of there now!”
The hill moved. With a yelp, Puck stumbled, flailing wildly as the grassy mound shifted and lurched and started to rise out of the mud. Puck dove forward, landing with a splat in the mud, and the hill stood up, unfolding long, claw-tipped arms and thick, stumpy legs. It turned, twenty feet of muddy green swamp troll, moss and vegetation growing from its broad back, blending perfectly with the landscape. Dank green hair hung from its scalp, and its beady red eyes scanned the ground in confusion.
“Oh,” Puck mused, gazing up at the enormous creature from the mud. “Well, that explains a few things.”
The swamp troll roared, spittle flying from its open jaws, and took a step toward Puck, who bounced to his feet. It swiped a talon at him and he ducked, running under its enormous bulk, darting between the tree-stump legs. The troll roared and started to turn, and I flung a hail of ice daggers at it, sticking it in the shoulder and face. It bellowed and lurched toward me, making the ground shake as it charged. I dodged, rolling out of the way as the troll hit the embankment and ripped a huge gash through the huts, tearing them open.
As the troll pulled back, I lunged at it, swiping at its thick arms, cutting a deep gash through the barklike skin. It howled, more in anger than pain, and whirled on me.
There was movement on its broad shoulders, and Puck appeared, clinging to its back, a huge grin splitting his face. “All right,” he announced grandly, as the troll jerked and spun around, trying in vain to reach him, “I claim this land for Spain.” And he planted his dagger in the base of the troll’s thick neck.
The creature roared, a shrill, painful wail, and clawed desperately at its back. Puck scooted away, avoiding the troll’s raking talons, and stuck his dagger on the other side of its neck. It screeched again, slapping and tearing, and Puck scrambled away. With all its attention on Puck, I leaped forward, vaulted off a stumpy leg, and plunged my sword into the troll’s chest.
It staggered, falling to its knees and with a deep groan, toppled into the mud as I ducked out of the way. Puck sprang off its shoulders as it collapsed, rolled as he hit the ground and came to his feet, grinning, though he looked like some kind of mud monster himself.
“Yes!” he exclaimed, shaking his head and flinging mud everywhere. “Man, that was fun. Better than playing Stay on the Wild Pegasus. Can we do it again?”
“Idiot.” I wiped a splash of mud from my cheek with the back of my hand. “We’re not done yet. Whatever is following us is still out there.”
“Also, may I remind you,” Grimalkin said, peering imperiously from the branches of a tall tree, “that swamp trolls, in particular, have two hearts and accelerated healing capabilities? You will have to do more than stick a sword in its chest if you wish to kill it for good.”
Puck blinked. “So, you’re saying that our mossy friend isn’t really—”
There was a wet, sloshing sound behind us, and Grimalkin vanished again. Puck winced.
“Right, then,” he muttered as we spun around. The swamp troll lumbered to its feet, its red eyes blazing and angry, fastened on us. “Round two.” Puck sighed and swept his hand down in a chopping motion. “Fight!”
The troll roared. Effortlessly, it reached out and wrapped one claw around the trunk of a pine tree, pulling it from the mud as easily as picking a dandelion. With blinding speed, it smashed the weapon toward us.
Puck and I leaped aside in opposite directions, and the tree struck the space between with an explosion of mud and water. Almost immediately, the troll swept the tree across the ground, as if it was whisking away dust with a broom, and this time Puck wasn’t quite able to dodge quickly enough. The trunk hit him and sent his body tumbling through the air, striking his head on another tree and slumping into the mud several yards away. Red-eyed, the troll turned back to me, stepping forward threateningly. I retreated until my back hit the wall of the embankment, and I tensed as the huge troll loomed over me, raising its club over its head and smashing it down like a battering ram.
Something big and dark lunged between us with a booming snarl, and a monstrous shaggy thing slammed into the troll, teeth flashing. The troll screeched and stumbled back, its arm clamped in the jaws of an enormous black wolf the size of a grizzly bear, who growled and shook his head, digging his fangs in farther. Howling, the troll flailed and yanked back, trying desperately to dislodge the monster clinging to its arm, but the wolf wasn’t letting go. I caught my breath, recognizing the creature, knowing who it was, but there was no time to wonder why he was here.
Dodging the wolf, I ducked beneath the troll’s legs and turned, slashing the thick tendons behind its knees. With a shriek, the troll’s legs buckled, and I leaped onto its back, much as Puck had done, as it went down. But this time, I raised my sword and drove it, point first, into the troll’s head, right between the horns, burying the weapon to the hilt.
A shudder wracked the troll’s body. It began to stiffen, its skin turning gray and hard. I yanked my sword free and vaulted off its back as the troll curled up on itself, much like a giant insect or spider, and turned to stone. In a few seconds, only a troll-shaped boulder sat in the mud at the edge of the village.
