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There was a deep chuckle beside me. “Not bad, little prince. Not bad.”
Slowly, I turned, gripping my weapon, ready to unleash my glamour in one violent, chaotic burst. A few yards away, the enormous wolf of legend stared at me, eyes glowing yellow-green in the gloom, fangs bared in a vicious smile.
“Hello, prince,” rumbled the Big Bad Wolf. “I told you before. The next time we meet, you won’t ever see me coming.”
I STARED AT THE WOLF, keeping him in my sights as he circled me, fangs bared in a savage grin, huge paws sinking into the mud. Around and inside me, glamour flared, cold and lethal, ready to be unleashed. I couldn’t hold anything back, not with him. This was possibly the most dangerous, ancient creature to ever walk the wilds of the Nevernever. His stories outnumbered all the myths and legends ever told, and his power grew with every telling, every dire warning and fable that whispered his name. His legends were all born of fear; he was the consummate villain, the creature that old wives warned their children about, a monster that consumed little girls and butchered entire herds for no reason. His brethren in the mortal world had suffered terribly for the fears that birthed him—they had been gunned down, trapped, and slaughtered wholesale—but each death reinforced those fears and made him more powerful than before.
The immortal Big Bad Wolf. Meghan and I had met him once before, and he’d almost succeeded in killing me.
That wouldn’t happen again.
“Put that stick away.” The Wolf’s voice, guttural and deep, held traces of amusement. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered saving your sorry carcass from the swamp troll. That’s not to say I won’t kill you later, but your silly little toy won’t stop me then, either, so you might as well be civil about it.”
I kept my sword out, which I could see annoyed the Wolf, but I was certainly not going down without a fight. “What do you want?” I asked, keeping my voice cautiously civil, but letting the Wolf know I would defend myself if needed. I was going to walk away from this. It didn’t matter that the Wolf was immortal. It didn’t matter that he’d almost killed me last time we’d met. If it came down to a fight, I was determined to win this time, by any means necessary. I would not die here, on the banks of a gloomy lake, torn apart by the Big Bad Wolf. I would survive this encounter and keep going. Meghan was waiting for me.
The Wolf smiled. “Mab sent me for you,” he said in a voice that was almost a purr.
I kept my expression neutral, though an icy fist grabbed my stomach and twisted. Not in surprise, or even fear, just the knowledge that, as she did with all her subjects, the Winter Queen had finally grown tired of me. Perhaps she was insulted by my refusal to return to court. Perhaps she’d decided that a former Winter prince running around free was too volatile, a threat to her throne. The whys didn’t matter. Mab had sent the most feared hunter and assassin in the entire Nevernever to kill me.
I sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. “I suppose I should be honored,” I told him, and he cocked his enormous shaggy head, still grinning. Taking a furtive breath, I calmed my mind, the glamour settling into a low, throbbing pulse. “We won’t get anywhere standing around looking at each other,” I told him, raising my sword. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
The Wolf chuckled. “As much as I’d enjoy ripping your head off, little prince,” he said, and his eyes gleamed, “I am not here to end your life. Quite the opposite, in fact. Mab sent me here to help you.”
I stared at him, hardly able to believe what I’d just heard. “Why?”
The Wolf shrugged, his huge shoulders rippling with the movement. “I do not know,” he said, and yawned, flashing lethal fangs. “Nor do I care. The Winter Queen knows of your quest; she knows you will probably have to journey far to complete it. I am here to make sure you reach your destination with your guts on the inside. In return, she will owe me a favor.” He sniffed the air and sat down, watching me with half-lidded eyes. “Beyond that, I have no interest in you. Or the Summer prankster. Who, if he wants his head to remain on his shoulders, will think long and hard about jumping me from behind. Next time, try standing downwind, Goodfellow.”
“Damn.” Puck appeared from a clump of reeds, a chagrined smile on his face, glaring at the Wolf. “I knew I was forgetting something.” Blood caked one side of his face, but other than that, he seemed fine. Brandishing his daggers, he sauntered up beside me, facing the huge predator. “Working for Mab now, are you, Wolfman?” he smirked. “Like a good little attack dog? Will you also roll over and beg if she asks?”
The Wolf rose, looming over both of us, the hair on his spine bristling. I resisted the urge to hit Goodfellow, even though I knew what he was doing; taunting an opponent for more information. “I am not a dog,” the Wolf growled, his deep voice making the puddles ripple. “And I work for no one.” He curled his lips in a sneer. “The favor of the Winter Queen is a substantial reward, but do not think you can order me around like the weak creatures of men. I will see you to the end of your quest alive.” He growled again and bared his teeth. “The request said nothing about whole.”
“You’re not here for a favor,” I said, and he blinked, eyeing me suspiciously. “You don’t need one,” I continued, “not from Mab, not from anyone. You enjoy the hunt, and the challenge, but to agree to such a request without a kill at the end? That’s not like you.” The Wolf continued to stare at us, his face betraying nothing. “Why are you really here?” I asked. “What do you want?”
“The only thing he really cares about—” A disembodied voice came from overhead, and Grimalkin appeared in the branches of a tree, nearly twenty feet off the ground. “Power.”
The hair on the Wolf’s back and shoulders bristled, though he gazed at Grimalkin with a faint, evil smile on his long muzzle. “Hello, cat,” he said conversationally. “I thought I caught your stench creeping through the air. Why not come down here and talk about me?”
“Do not demean yourself by stating the ridiculous,” Grimalkin replied smoothly. “Just because my species is vastly superior does not mean you should flaunt your idiocy so freely. I know why you are here, dog.”
“Really,” Puck called, craning his head to look up at the cat. “Well then, would you like to share your theory, Furball?”
Grimalkin sniffed. “Do you people not know anything?” Standing up, he walked along the branch, the Wolf’s gaze following him hungrily. “He is here because he wishes to add his name to your tale. His power, his entire existence, comes from stories, from myths and legends and all the dark, frightening and amusing tales about him that humans have invented over the years. It is how the Big Bad Wolf has survived for so long. It is how you have survived for centuries, Goodfellow. Surely you know this.”
“Well, yeah, of course I knew that,” Puck scoffed, crossing his arms. “But that still doesn’t tell me why Wolfman is being so helpful all of a sudden.”
“You are on a quest,” the Wolf went on, finally tearing his gaze away from the cat to look at me. “The queen told me of this. That you, a soulless and immortal being, wish to become human for the mortal you love.” He paused and shook his head in grudging admiration, or perhaps pity. “That is a story. That is a tale that will endure for generations, if you can survive the trials, of course. But even if you don’t, even if this tale becomes a tragedy, my name will still be in it, adding to my strength.” He narrowed his eyes, staring me down. “Of course, it would be a better tale if you manage to reach your destination. I can help you in that respect. It will make the story longer anyway.”
“What makes you think we need, or want, your help?” Grimalkin asked loftily.
The Wolf gave me an eerie smile, all fangs, and his eyes glinted in the shadows. “I will be in this tale one way or another, little prince,” he warned. “Either as the great wolf that protects and guides you to your destination, or as the tireless evil that tracks you through the night, haunting your steps and your dreams. I have been both, and such roles are easy for me to slip into. I leave the choice to you.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, two hunters sizing each other up, checking strengths and weaknesses. Finally, I nodded and carefully sheathed my blade.
“All right,” I said as Puck blinked and Grimalkin snorted in disgust. “I’ll accept your help for now. But I make no promises about our continued alliance.”
“Neither do I, boy.” The Wolf regarded me the way a cat would observe a mouse. “So, now that we have an understanding, what should we do first?”
Overhead, Grimalkin sighed, very loudly. “Unbelievable,” he said, and the Wolf grinned at him and ran a pink tongue over his jaws. Grimalkin was not impressed. “May I remind you,” he continued in that same bored, annoyed tone, “that out of this entire party, only I know the way to the seer. And if a certain dog forgets its manners, you will all be up the river without a paddle, so to speak. Remember that, prince.”
“You heard him,” I told the Wolf, who curled a lip at me. “No chasing or attacking our guide. We still need him to reach the seer.”
“Please.” Grimalkin sniffed, and leaped to another branch. “As if I would ever allow that to happen. This way, and do try to keep up.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE HOLLOW
After leaving the lake and the dead ballybog village, we followed Grimalkin through another tangled forest and across a rocky plateau, the great black Wolf trailing noiselessly behind us. The two animals didn’t speak to each other, but the Wolf kept his distance from the cat, even when traveling across the open plains, so it seemed that they had worked out some sort of truce. A basilisk stirred on a rocky shelf, eyeing us hungrily as we passed beneath, but the Wolf silently curled his lip, baring his fangs, and the monster appeared to lose interest.
After we crossed the plateau, the ground turned sharply downhill and thick, thorny brambles started appearing, choking out the trees. When we reached the bottom of the slope, the briars rose around us like a spiny maze, ragged wisps of fog caught between their branches. The ground was wet and spongy, saturated with water, mud and something else. Something dark had seeped into the earth, turning the ground black and poisoned. The air was still, silent as a grave; nothing moved in the shadows or between the thorns, not even insects.
“This is as far as I go.”
Startled, we both turned to Grimalkin, sitting tightly on a patch of dry ground, watching us. “From here,” he said, regarding each of us in turn, “you are on your own.”
“What?” Puck exclaimed. “You mean you’re not going to venture into the hollow of death with us? Shocking. What kind of monster do you think lives here, ice-boy? It has to be pretty nasty for Furball to flake out on us. Oh, wait …”
Grimalkin flattened his ears but otherwise ignored the Summer faery. The Wolf sniffed the air, growled low in his chest, and the hackles rose along his spine. “This place,” he muttered, curling a lip, “is not right.” He shook himself and took a step forward. “I’ll scout ahead, see if it’s—”
“No,” Grimalkin said, and the Wolf turned on him with a growl. The cait sith faced him seriously, his yellow eyes intense. “You must remain here. The valley will not tolerate intruders. This part of the journey is for them, and them alone.”
The Wolf and the cat locked eyes, staring each other down. Grimalkin did not blink, and something in the cat’s steady gaze must have convinced the much larger wolf. Reluctantly, he nodded and took a step back. “Very well,” he growled. “I will scout along the perimeter, then.” He shot a glare at me and Puck. “If you two need my help, just scream.”
He turned swiftly and trotted away, melting into the shadows and the trees. Grimalkin watched him go and turned to us.
“I have brought you as far as I can,” he said, rising gracefully to his feet, plumed tail waving. “The final few steps are up to you.” His gaze narrowed, watching us grimly. “Both of you.”
A coil of mist curled across the place where Grimalkin sat, and he was gone.
Puck crossed his arms, gazing past the edge of the valley into the darkness and thorns. “Yep.” He sighed. “A really, really nasty monster, indeed.”
I gazed into the hollow, watching the mist writhe through the thorns, creating shadows and dragons where there was nothing. Silence hung thick on the air; not a peaceful, serene silence, but the silence of a tomb, or the aftermath of a battle, where death and darkness thrived and the living had no place. I could hear the whispers of hate and fear that hissed through the brambles, ghosts on the wind. I could hear them call my name.
Something in me recoiled, reluctant to set foot in that dark valley. It was waiting for me, somewhere beyond the mist. Still watching.
Filled with a foreboding I couldn’t explain, I drew back, then stopped, angry with myself. Why this sudden fear? Fear meant nothing to me. Fear was the knowledge of pain, the awareness that you could be hurt, that you could die. That was all it came down to. I knew pain. Intimately. I’d welcomed it at times, because it meant I could still feel, that I wasn’t completely frozen. What more could anything do to my body that I hadn’t already lived through?
Nodding to Puck, I drew my sword and stepped into the hollow, feeling the mist coil around me as we slipped into the fog.
A gray shroud enveloped us instantly, lit by a flat, even glow that somehow managed to darken everything. Nothing moved in the hollow; all life had been swallowed by the thick black briars that sprang up everywhere, choking everything out. The ground beneath us was wet and spongy, though the writhing layer of mist made it impossible to see what we were stepping on.
As I moved through the brambles, my sword held up and ready, I began to sense the wrongness of the valley, right below my feet. The ground pulsed with hate and blood and despair; I could feel it clawing at me, the darkness of this place. I could feel my Unseelie nature rise up in response, cold, ruthless and angry.
“This place is cursed,” Puck muttered as I struggled to control myself, to stifle the darkness rising within. “We need to find this seer and get out of here, soon.”
“Ash,” something whispered through the brambles, raising the hair on my neck. I whirled, but no one was there.
“Ice-boy?” Puck stepped forward, eyes narrowed in concern. “Ash. You all right?”
And, for just a moment, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to take my sword and plunge it deep into his chest, to watch the light fade from his eyes right before he crumpled at my feet. Turning away, I struggled to compose myself, to stifle the cold rage ebbing through me. The demon inside was stirring, unwilling to hold back any longer, and the core of the rage was directed, like a spearhead, at Puck.
“Ash,” the voice whispered again, and I looked up.
Several yards away, barely visible through the mist, a ghostly, glowing figure walked through a space between the briars, catching my eye and then vanishing from sight. My breath caught in my throat.
Forgetting Puck, forgetting everything that had brought us here, I followed the figure into the mist. Voices hissed at me through the brambles, faint and incomprehensible, though every so often I heard them whisper my name. I caught glimpses of the lone figure through the branches, always walking away from me, just out of reach. Somewhere in the mist, I heard Puck call my name as he tried to follow, but I ignored him. Ahead of me, the thorns finally thinned, and the ghostly figure strode purposefully forward, never glancing back. It turned a corner, and I hurried to catch up ….
The brambles fell away, and I found myself in a small clearing, thick briars hemming me in on either side. Before me, rising out of the mist, a bleached-white skeleton lay sprawled in the mud and stagnant water of the clearing. The skeleton was huge, an enormous reptilian creature with thick hind legs and a long, powerful tail. Wingbones lay folded beneath it, snapped and broken, and the huge jaws were open in a last, silent roar.
I started to shake. Not with fear, but with complete, all-consuming fury, and despair burned my throat like bile. I knew this place. I recognized where we were at last. It was here, on this spot, that Puck, Ariella and I had fought and killed a monstrous wyvern, slaying it but losing one of our own in the process. This was the hollow where Ariella died. This was the place where I’d vowed to kill Puck. It had all started right here.
It would end here, as well.
“Ash!” Footsteps splashed behind me, as Puck came into the clearing and stumbled to a halt, panting. “Dammit, iceboy, what’s gotten into you? Next time, give me a heads-up that you’re taking off. Don’t leave a guy standing in a creepy, mist-filled hollow of death all by himself.”
“Do you know where we are?” I asked softly, not turning around. I felt his puzzlement, then heard his sudden intake of breath as he realized. I gripped my sword and spun slowly to face him, feeling darkness spread through me like a rush of ink. The Unseelie demon was fully awake now, the icy barrier that held it at bay shattered. Memories rose up, fresh and painful: the hunt, the chase into the hollow at Puck’s insistence, the roar of the monster as it charged with lethal speed. Rage and despair swirled around me; whether mine or the memories of this dark place, I didn’t know. Nor did I care. Meeting Puck’s eyes, I started forward.
“Ash,” Puck said, backing away, his eyes wary and hooded, “wait. What are you doing?”
“I told you.” I advanced steadily, calmly, the sword heavy in my hand. “I warned you that it would be soon. It’s time, Puck. Today.”
“Not now.” He paled, and drew his daggers. I didn’t stop, and he circled with me, his weapons held up and ready. “Ash, get a hold of yourself,” he said, almost pleading. “We can’t do this now. You’re not here for her.”
“Look at where we are!” I roared, sweeping my blade toward the bleached skeleton in the mud. “If not now, when? This is the place, Puck! This is the place she died. I lost Ariella right here. Because of you!” My voice broke, and I sucked in a breath as Puck stared at me with wide eyes. I’d never said those words to him; it was always an unspoken feud that drove us to fight each other. We both knew the reason, but I’d never accused Puck out loud, until now.
“You know I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Puck’s voice shook as we continued to circle each other, blades bare and glittering in the faint light. “I loved her, too, prince.”
“Not like me.” I couldn’t stop myself now. The rage was a cold, all-consuming fire, fed from the darkness of the earth, from the grief and hate and painful memories that had seeped into this spot. “And that doesn’t change the fact that her death is on your head. If I’d killed you when we first met, like I was supposed to, she would still be alive!”
“You don’t think I know that?” Puck was shouting now, green eyes feverish. “You don’t think I regret what I did, every single day? You lost Ariella, but I lost you both! Believe it or not, I was kind of a mess, too, Ash. It got to a point where I actually looked forward to our random duels, because that was the only time I could talk to you. When you were freaking trying to kill me!”
“Don’t compare your loss to mine,” I snarled. “You have no idea what I went through, what you caused.”
“You think I don’t know pain?” Puck shook his head at me. “Or loss? I’ve been around a lot longer than you, prince! I know what love is, and I’ve lost my fair share, too. Just because we have a different way of handling it, doesn’t mean I don’t have scars of my own.”
“Name one,” I scoffed. “Give me one instance where you haven’t—”
“Meghan Chase!” Puck roared, startling me into silence. I blinked, and he sneered at me. “Yeah, your highness. I know what loss is. I’ve loved that girl since before she knew me. But I waited. I waited because I didn’t want to lie about who I was. I wanted her to know the truth before anything else. So I waited, and I did my job. For years, I protected her, biding my time, until the day she went into the Nevernever after her brother. And then you came along. And I saw how she looked at you. And for the first time, I wanted to kill you as much as you wanted to kill me.
“So, here, prince!” he said, and without warning, flipped his daggers at me. They struck the ground at my feet, hilts up, glinting in the dim light. “I’m tired of fighting. You want your revenge?” He straightened and flung his arms wide, glaring at me. “Come and take it! This is the place where she died, where it all started. Here I am, Ash—strike me down already. I won’t even fight you. Let’s end this, once and for all!”
The rage in me boiled. Raising my sword, I went for him, sweeping the blade down at his neck, a blow that would slice through his collarbone and out the other side. I would end this, right here. Puck didn’t move, nor did his gaze stray from mine as I lunged forward. He didn’t flinch as the weapon sliced down in a blur of icy blue—
—and stopped.
My hands shook, and the sword trembled against Puck’s collarbone, the edge drawing the faintest line of red against his skin. I was panting, breathing hard, but he still watched me, his face blank, and I could see my tortured ref lection in his eyes. Do it, the rage whispered as I struggled to make my arms move, to finish what I’d started. Strike him down. This is what you’ve always wanted. End the feud, and keep your promise.
Puck took a deep, careful breath and spoke softly, almost a whisper. “If you’re going to do it, prince, do it now. The anticipation is killing me.”
I straightened, bracing myself for the deed. Robin Goodfellow would die today. It had to end like this. It didn’t matter that Puck had lost just as much as I had, that his pain was just as great, that he loved Meghan enough to step aside, to bow out gracefully. Never mind that he loved her so much he would join his sworn enemy on a search for the impossible, just to ensure her happiness. He was here, not because of me, but because of her. None of that mattered. I had sworn an oath, here, on this very spot, and I had to see it through.
I gripped the sword handle, steeling myself. Puck stood rock-still, waiting. I raised the sword again … and whirled away with a roar of frustration, flinging my weapon into the nearest bramble patch.
Puck couldn’t quite conceal his sigh of relief as I stalked away, retreating into the mist and out of sight before I fell apart. Dropping to my knees, I slammed my fist into the mud and bowed my head, wishing the earth would open up and swallow me whole. I shook with anger, with grief and self-loathing and regret. Regret of what transpired here. That I had failed. That I had ever made that vow to kill my closest friend.
I’m sorry, Ariella. Forgive me. I’m weak. I wasn’t able to keep my promise.
How long I knelt there, I didn’t know. Perhaps only minutes, but before I could really compose myself, I had the sudden knowledge that I wasn’t alone. Wondering if Puck was really foolish enough to bother me now, I raised my head.
It wasn’t Puck.
A robed figure stood at the edge of the mist, pale and indistinct, blending into the surrounding fog. Its cowl was raised, showing nothing but darkness beneath the hood, but I could feel its eyes on me, watching.
I rose slowly, muscles tensed to leap away should the stranger make any move to attack. I wished I had my sword, but there was no time to regret that now.
Watching the stranger, I felt a glimmer of recognition. We’d met before, recently in fact. This was the same presence I had felt in my nightmare of the Iron Realm, the one keeping just out of sight, holding me to the dreamworld. And as my memory returned with the shattered pieces of my composure, I finally recalled why we were here, who we had come to find.
“You are … the seer?” I asked softly. My voice came out shaky and was swallowed by the coiling fog, but the robed figure nodded. “Then … you know why I’ve come.”
Another nod. “Yes,” the seer whispered, its voice softer than the mist around us. “I know why you are here, Ash of the Winter Court. The real question is … do you?”
I took a breath to answer, but the seer stepped forward and pushed back its hood.
The world fell out from under me. I stared, staggered and frozen in a way that had nothing to do with winter.
“Hello, Ash,” Ariella whispered. “It’s been a long time.”
PART TWO
CHAPTER SIX
THE SEER
I stared at the figure before me, hardly able to wrap my mind around it. It looked like Ariella, sounded like her. Even after all these years, I knew the exact lilt of her voice, the subtlest tilt of her head. But … it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. This was a trick, or perhaps a memory, brought to life by the depth of emotion around us. Ariella was dead. She had been for a long time.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head, trying desperately to regain my scattered wits. “This … this isn’t real. You’re not real. Ariella is … gone.” My voice broke, and I shook my head angrily. “This isn’t real,” I repeated, willing my heart to believe it. “Whatever you are, leave this place. Don’t torment me further.”
The robed figure glided forward, coils of mist parting for her as she came toward me. I wanted to move, to draw back, but my body wasn’t working right anymore. I might as well have been frozen, helpless, as the thing that looked like Ariella drew very close, so close I could see the flecks of silver in her eyes, smell the faint scent of cloves that had always surrounded her.
