 
# Dreamthief

### Olive Kennedy, Fairy World MD

## Tamara Grantham

### Contents

Title Page

Also by Tamara Grantham

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Spellweaver

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Tamara Grantham

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If you loved Dreamthief...

By: Tamara Grantham

Traveling back to Faythander wasn't on Olive's to-do list. But she has no choice. The fate of both Earth and Fairy depends on her ability to stop an evil being called the Dreamthief. Saving the world, she can handle. Falling in love—not so much. Now, she'll have to decide between her heart and the future of an entire planet. As if battling the forces of evil wasn't complicated enough...

### Twisted Ever After

Book 1: The Witch's Tower

Book 2: The Dragon Swan Princess

### Olive Kennedy, Fairy World MD Series

Book 1: Dreamthief

Book 2: Spellweaver

Book 3: Bloodthorn

Book 4: Silverwitch

(Novella): Goblinwraith

Book #5 Deathbringer

Book #6: Grayghost

THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

* * *

NO part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

* * *

Dreamthief

Copyright ©2015 Tamara Grantham

All rights reserved.

* * *

ISBN: 978-1-63422-077-4

Cover Design by: Marya Heiman

Typography by: Courtney Nuckels

Editing by: Chelsea Brimmer
> For my sister, Lorena Hanks, the first and best author in the family. (Although honestly, I'm certain the red hair gives her an advantage.)
> Blessed are the weird people:
> 
> Poets, misfits, writers, mystics,
> 
> Painters, troubadours:
> 
> For they teach us to see
> 
> The world through different eyes.
> 
> * * *
> 
> ~ _Jacob Nordby_ ~

# Chapter One

I don't believe in karma. Once, I gave twenty bucks to earthquake victims, thinking _hey, maybe tomorrow my luck will change, maybe I can pay the utilities this month without sacrificing my grocery money_. The next morning, my car broke down. Transmission. Nine hundred bucks. Don't get me wrong, I still think we ought to help others, but not because we expect the universe to pay us back.

I do believe in magic. Not magyk. Not Magick. Not the stuff that Wiccans or warlocks practice. I believe in the old stuff—the real, honest-to-goodness, straight-from-fairy-world kind of magic. Am I crazy? Maybe, but not because I believe in magic.

I knocked on apartment 31C off Champion Forest Drive. Standing on the porch with my hands in my pockets and my breath coming out like puffs of cumulus clouds, I wished the guy inside wouldn't have taken five minutes to open up. Houston was a damp place in November.

The door cracked open.

Elmore stood a little taller than me, with a paunch belly and pale skin. He was in his mid-twenties, but if he were young enough to attend high school, he would have been labeled a nerd. He ran his hands through his greasy, uncombed hair as he stared at me through thick-rimmed glasses. His T-shirt read _100% Pure Middle Earth_.

"You the shrink?"

"Yes." I'd stopped correcting people a long time ago. If they wanted to call me a shrink, let them. I'd been called worse. "My name is Olive Kennedy. Dr. Hill sent me."

He looked at my purple Doc Martens, my dark, reddish hair cropped in a bob, and then stared at my slightly pointed ears. His brow creased. "He said you were a shrink, not a Ren fair geek."

_Ren fair geek?_ _Look who's talking_.

Elmore took a step back. "I'm sorry you came all this way, but I'm feeling awful today. Maybe you ought to come back next week." The door started to close, but I held it open.

"If you're not feeling well, don't you think I should see you now before you get worse?"

"I'm getting better."

"You just said that you're feeling awful."

"I am."

"Then may I please come inside?" I asked.

"I'm not sure you can help me."

"We won't know until I try, right?"

"Are you sure you won't mess me up even more?"

"Elmore," I said, "Dr. Hill trusts me. There's a reason he sends me to all the patients he can't cure. Because _I_ can."

Elmore gave me one last glare and then opened the door. I adjusted my backpack and stepped inside. It smelled of sour laundry, and it looked how I'd expected. An Advanced Dungeons and Dragons poster hung over the couch, collectible AT-ATs and homemade lightsaber hilts cluttered the end tables, and overstuffed shelves stood along the walls. I spotted a few _Star Trek_ collections, _Dr. Who_ DVDs, and the typical Robert Jordan books. His décor looked promising, although I wasn't sure he qualified as my patient. If I didn't find what I needed, I would prove to be a liar. Worse, I wouldn't be able to help him.

"Mind if I have a seat?" I asked.

He nodded at the couch.

I placed my backpack on the floor and sat across from him.

"I hope Dr. Hill told you I'm a hopeless case," Elmore said.

"He didn't use those words exactly."

He barked a cheerless laugh. "Did he tell you that I've suffered with depression since I was twelve? He's prescribed every drug in the book. I've attended therapy sessions, I've been in and out of the mental hospital more times than I can count, and the panic attacks won't go away. I really don't know why you're here."

He clasped his hands, and that's when I saw the scars. Elmore's file said he'd attempted suicide twice. Raised keloids crisscrossed his wrists.

"My methods aren't like the other doctors," I said.

"I've heard that before. You're all the same."

"Are we?" I brushed back clumps of hair to draw attention to my freakish ears. This worked half the time. "I'm not much different from you."

He shrugged. "Not bad. But my friend Whitmore's prosthetics look better."

Score zero for me. "I'm sure they are. Mine were incredibly cheap." As in completely free—a donation from my elven daddy's DNA.

"Elmore, I'm not here to prescribe medication or make you suffer through hours of therapy. I'm here to find the trigger to your panic attacks. I'm here to heal the part of your brain that's been damaged from a traumatic event. But first, I need you to help me. Do you have any collections?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Wizards, fairies, that sort of thing?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Like I said, I'm not like the others."

He seemed to debate my answer. I'd already shown him my oddball ears, which meant he pegged me as either a hard-core nerd or a doctor desperate to impress her patients. I wanted him to realize I was different. Most therapists guided conversations, letting their patients work through their own problems, thus coming to their own conclusions. I used that technique some of the time, but with a case like his, it didn't matter how many rap sessions he went through—he wouldn't be able to work this out on his own.

I'd asked about his collection and prayed he had one. If not, then I would be back outside in the rain.

"I collect a few things."

"You do?"

He walked to a closet, lugged out a plastic bin, and cracked it open. Before pulling anything out, he eyed me. "This is a little strange, you know. I've never met a doctor who makes home visits or asks about my hobbies. You really want to see my collection?"

"Yes."

He shrugged, then lifted out a newspaper-wrapped package. The paper crinkled as he removed it.

I crossed my fingers. What would I do if he had a stamp collection? Or worse?

He pulled out a dragon.

_Houston, I have a patient._

I took the statue from him. The wood weighed heavy in my hand. "Not a bad item in terms of quality. Solid oak, with attention to detail. This is pretty good."

"It's all right. I haven't unpacked yet because I don't know where to put them. Back at my mom's house, I kept them on some shelves in the living room." He swallowed. Perhaps Mom was a sore subject. Unpacking a few more statues, all in pristine condition, he placed them on the coffee table. "I still don't know why you care about these."

I only smiled. He'd find out soon enough. Scanning the rows of dragons, I looked for one in particular. Dragons in glass, in pewter, and a few more wooden ones—expensive pieces—lined the table, but I looked for something else. I thought I wouldn't find it until I spotted a multicolored dragon. Pointing at it, I asked, "What's that?"

He picked it up. "My first one. I was five when I got it." He held it with reverence.

"May I look at it?"

Elmore hesitated, then handed it to me. The dragon was squat with a silly grin and two fat horns. The chipped paint was thick in places, bare in others. Some of the colors blended to make an interesting shade of brown. "Did you paint it?"

He nodded. "We went to this charity thing at a church. They were letting kids do crafts and such. I'd never painted anything. I botched it up pretty good."

"Why did you keep it? Most people would throw away something like this after a while."

"I guess."

"But you kept it?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me more about the day you got it?"

He cocked his head. I'm sure he wondered where I was going with this, but he didn't question me. "It was Halloween. My mom took me to the church because she thought they'd have a free meal. They didn't. They just had crafts and games and stuff. Didn't even give out candy. My mom got pretty mad. We went home. She found some liquor." He blew out a breath of air. "I didn't realize I'd be talking about this."

"It's okay."

He stared at the dragon as he spoke. "We were poor. Really poor. I remember because I hadn't eaten for a day and a half."

"I'm sorry." I knew where he was going with his story, and it made me cringe. I'd heard stories like this too many times to count, and still I cringed.

"I've never really told anyone."

I gave him the dragon statue. "Believe me, I understand."

The ticking of a clock broke up the silence. Staring at the statue, he said, "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"It happens to a lot of people. Go ahead."

His voice grew distant. "I knew she wouldn't let me go trick-or-treating, so I stole her lipstick and grabbed a pillowcase. When my neighbors asked, I told them I was a clown. They gave me a few stares, but no one turned me away. When I got home, I ate my candy until it made me puke. I must've passed out because the next thing I remembered, Mom stood over me. I laid in my own vomit. I'll never forget that smell." He wiped his nose. "I still smell it sometimes. In my hair."

I leaned forward. His story was heartbreaking, but I knew I hadn't heard the worst of it. "Was your mom angry?"

"She laughed when she saw me. Said I got what I deserved. Then she locked me in the closet. I'd thought going for a whole day and a half without food was bad, but..." He stared at his hands.

"Elmore," I said after a pause. "Do you remember what happened in that closet?"

He looked up. "I remember starving. I remember holding it until I had to urinate all over myself. The worst part was knowing my mom was out there. I went to sleep knowing that she'd put me there."

"What happened after that?"

"After a few hours, I woke up. I remember thinking, _Mom loves me. She'll let me out_. And it made me feel better for a little while. But then my hunger returned, worse than I'd ever felt before, and I knew," he swallowed, "I knew I would starve to death. The thirst and hunger were eating me from the inside out, so I curled up on the floor and waited to die. The thought of my own death frightened me as I drifted off. But then..."

"Then what?"

"I woke up and found the door open. I knew my mom had left hours ago. She couldn't have opened the door. It was weird. I don't know—I was certain I was going to die, but I didn't. The strangest part was," he paused, stared at the ceiling, then began again, "I'm probably crazy for saying this, but I didn't feel hungry anymore."

"You weren't hungry?"

He shook his head.

"Are you sure you remember correctly?"

"Yes," he answered.

I leaned forward, choosing my words carefully. "Elmore, what if I told you that something happened to you in that closet—something impossible for you to comprehend?"

"Like what?"

"Your heightened emotions may have opened a portal to an alternate world called Faythander. You traveled to fairy world."

He looked at me as if I'd lost it.

"Your emotions opened the portal as a way to escape. It happens to people who go through similar traumas. There's a reason why fairy creatures surface in every civilization we know of, because many of us have been there. The conscious part of your brain doesn't remember, but subconsciously, you know the truth. You saved this statue because deep inside, you felt a connection to it."

I leaned forward. "You've been there. You've seen the dragons that you collect. You're trying to remember, but until now, you didn't know how."

He shut his eyes. "You're telling the truth?"

"I am."

"I've told you my worst memory, and now you're making fun of me?" Elmore snatched up his dragon statue and wrapped it in the newspaper. He shoved it back in the box, and then he did the same with the rest.

I kept my composure, knowing that at any moment he could get more agitated, possibly violent. No one believed me when I told them, but they didn't have to. I opened my backpack and removed my mirror.

At one point, it had been a clunky, old-school laptop, but I'd made a few modifications, replacing the screen with an ordinary mirror and gutting out the keys and wires to replace the bottom with a velvet lining. Inside were my figurines: an elf, a dragon, a Wult, a pixie, and a goblin. The five races of Faythander. Each glowed with their respective magical colors, though only I could see this sort of magic. Dragon magic was green. The elf glowed blue; pixies were pink, and goblin magic was shrouded in gray.

Blue wisps of magic, the sort that could be seen by anyone, rose from the mirror. Elmore stopped packing and knit his brows. He didn't speak as I turned the mirror to face him and removed my dragon statue.

"What are you doing?"

"This will help you remember." I held my dragon out to him. He didn't take it.

"Did someone put you up to this? Because I swear, if someone—"

"Elmore." I said his name in a quiet voice, though I hoped he heard the intensity. "Your past is haunting you. You can't tell me it's not. Please. Take the statue."

"What will happen?"

"You'll relive your memories from Faythander. You'll remember."

He swallowed. "That's all?"

I nodded.

His eyes didn't leave my dragon statue. He exhaled a long breath, as if trying to convince himself I told the truth.

I couldn't force him to take it. This part was up to him. I tried to put myself in his position. He'd been through years of therapy and never shared with his doctors what he'd shared with me. And now, in his mind, I mocked him.

All he had to do was touch the statue. It seemed simple, but was it?

Sweat beaded his brow.

He snatched my statue. As soon as he did, my mirror reacted. Blue Faythander light spilled out, sparkling with magic. Real magic. Usually, when a person saw Faythander magic for the first time, they were impressed. Magic resonated with a part of the brain that had never been opened before. It created a sense of déjà vu. They knew it was real the instant they saw it.

The mirror's light became a dense fog as the magic engulfed us. Around us, the room disappeared.

"What's happening?" Elmore breathed.

"The mirror will show us an image from your past."

The fog burned away. I stood with Elmore in the dragon's forest. Magic pulsed around us, in the trees, in the grass, from the giant stones down to the tiniest pebbles. With the infusion of magic, ordinary trees grew taller than Sequoias. The grass became velvet soft, like treading on moss. The sky became a brighter shade of blue. The leaves grew a deep emerald.

Magic transformed not only the plants, but also the animals, and all other living things. Soft flecks of blue twinkled under fern-like branches. Fairies. Their wings beat with a quiet flutter, like listening to the gentlest summer breeze.

Huge leaves formed a canopy around us, though I spied the ridged eyes and nostrils of a green landwalker sleeping beneath.

Sounds of whooshing wind disturbed the stillness. Before us, a portal of electric-blue magic formed. Elmore stepped back, his hands raised. I prayed he wouldn't have a heart attack.

"It's okay," I said. "This is only a memory. Nothing can harm you here."

The portal grew wider. It disappeared as a little boy stepped through. The boy's feet sank into a carpet of moss as he stared at his new world with wide eyes. With his matted, dark hair, his bony arms and legs, I felt certain of his identity.

"Is that me?" Elmore asked.

The green landwalker rose from his resting place. I expected the boy to react with fear. He only stared up, his mouth agape.

For the most part, dragons resembled their earth-world portrayals, though I'd always found them more dinosaur-like than most artists envisioned. Like the extinct Apatosaurus, the landwalker stood on four feet, though evolution had given him talons and massive wings, which he tucked around his body as he lumbered toward the boy.

"A traveler from Earth Kingdom," the dragon said, his voice deep and surprisingly gentle.

The boy continued to stare.

"You've come a long way from home."

The boy didn't move. The dragon leaned forward, his cat-like eyes a shade of yellow topaz. "Are you hungry, young one?"

He nodded.

The dragon cocked his head. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

Young Elmore clenched his fists. I noticed the ceramic dragon clutched in his hand. Something inside the young boy must have drawn him to pick that statuette over the others—he must have felt a connection to dragons even before he came here.

"I'm not scared," he said in his tiny voice.

The dragon smiled. Gentle claws encircled the boy's waist. The landwalker lifted him up, and his voice, though it came as if from far away, pierced to the soul. "Joy will make you forget the sorrow that has brought you here. I will tell you my name, though someday you will forget. Remember my name, and you will remember Faythander."

I heard a thump, and the memory disappeared. Once again, we sat in Elmore's apartment. Dim, gray light filtered through the slatted blinds, illuminating my dragon statue that lay on the carpet. I picked it up.

Elmore's eyes grew wide as he stared at the pewter figurine.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He stared at the statue.

"Would you like a glass of water?"

His eyes stayed wide.

Was he going into shock? It wouldn't be the first time I'd seen it happen, though honestly, I'd thought he'd be able to handle it.

"Elmore?"

No answer.

"Can you hear—?"

"Yes," he interrupted me, "I can hear you."

"Do you remember?"

Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, tears formed. When he spoke, his unsteady voice sounded barely louder than a whisper. "The dragon fed me Meriwether berries. They tasted like peaches." He removed his glasses as tears leaked from his eyes. "It's true, isn't it?"

"What do you think?"

He exhaled a deep breath, staring at the sunlight on the carpet, alternating shades of dark and light. "His name was Havanstache. Yes," he said and looked up at me, "I remember."

I left the apartment, my bank account still empty. I didn't care. I'd never done this for the money. Seeing the look on Elmore's face when he finally remembered the past—that feeling of genuine joy in knowing I'd helped someone who really needed it—that's what I did it for.

_Come to think of it, is this karma? Not a paycheck, but a reward without price?_

That thought stayed with me for the next three-and-a-half minutes, right before I hit the five-o'clock Houston traffic.

# Chapter Two

Han Solo—gray tail bushy, his purr only a little softer than a dragon's roar—greeted me as I entered my apartment. He jumped onto my lap as soon as I took a seat on the barstool at the island counter, a bowl of Lucky Charms in hand.

My cat positioned himself next to the cereal bowl. His green eyes watched the spoon enter my mouth.

"No," I told him.

He mewled, his eyes pleading.

"People food." I pointed at his cat bowl on the floor. "Cat food."

He looked at me with those wide cat eyes. After a few more bites, I relented and scooted the bowl of milk to him. I was such a pushover sometimes. Good thing I wasn't a parent.

Glancing at the clock, I realized I should have been in bed hours ago. Crossing town had been murder—it had taken me two hours just to get back to my tiny little apartment on Galveston Island. Should have taken half that. I hated Houston sometimes.

Stumbling to my bedroom seemed a longer walk than usual. I only had seven hundred square feet to call my own, but even that seemed like a lot. My apartment was functional, decorated sparsely. Honestly, it probably looked like a bachelor pad. I'd never had money to spend on candles or plants or those cute little quotes people hung on their walls.

My mind wandered as I found the bathroom and turned on the sink to wash my face. Living alone was a solitary ordeal, and I found myself having conversations in my head. It sounded strange, but I had certain characters running around inside my head, representing particular aspects of my psyche. Bill Clinton represented my emotions. Albert Einstein represented my rational side. He always popped up whenever I had a moral dilemma. Don't know how he came to represent my rational side, but I do know when it started. I was twelve, and it was the year I moved in with my mom—the year my world turned upside down.

After washing my face, I grabbed the towel.

A shadow crossed behind me.

I straightened, my heart beating wildly in my chest as the faint reflection gained substance.

A wisp of gray, like the tattered hem of Charon's cloak, fluttered behind me. A translucent, skeletal face appeared and then faded.

Chills prickled my neck. My body froze.

Einstein spoke up _. A specter from fairy world in your bathroom? Is this normal, Olive? Perhaps you imagined it._

The chills on my neck disagreed with him. Something had moved behind me, so close I'd felt it brush against me. I knew I hadn't released any magic, so I shouldn't have seen anything in my mirror.

This was why I hated living alone.

My doorbell rang. I almost fell into the tub.

Stumbling upright, I walked out of the bathroom, through the living room, and stopped at the front door. Peeking through the peephole, I almost wondered if Death were on my doorstep. Strange things happened to me frequently, but I never got used to them.

I spied Dr. Hill through the peephole. The streetlamp illuminated his dark brown skin. He wore his usual suit and bowtie, and trimmed his graying beard in the style of Abraham Lincoln. My heart rate evened out a tiny bit, and with shaking hands, I opened the door.

"Dr. Billy?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"You know I hate that name. And what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Maybe I had. "I'm fine. Jittery, I guess."

"Jittery? Should you make an appointment? Prozac or Effexor—"

"No pills. You know that doesn't work for me."

"I'm trying to help."

"I know. But I'm fine. So what's up?" I forced my voice to stay level. I didn't like explaining weird crap, especially not to Dr. Hill. Stepping aside, I let him in, and he took his usual seat on the couch.

I sat on the loveseat across from him, trying my best to seem at ease.

His voice took on a doctor's tone. "I've had a patient come in recently."

Okay, I knew the drill. After seeing so many patients he couldn't help, he finally agreed to let me give it a try. With a few successes, he'd given me a steady trickle of work ever since.

"So what's this one got? Bi-polar? Depression? Anxiety?" Useless terms for my patients if you asked me, but scientists liked labels. Made them feel secure. And trying to convince doctors that the proper term for a 'narcissist' was 'visitor to fairy world' __ made them extra nervous. Angry, even.

I know. I'd tried.

Ninety-five percent of the time, I was just fine with the scientific terms. But for the five percent who suffered from Faythander's lost memories, pills and therapy were rubbish.

"I've diagnosed him with depression," Dr. Hill said, "but I'm certain there's more to it."

"Classic symptoms?" I asked. "And none of the meds are working?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I can handle it."

He gave me the address and phone number. I grabbed a scrap of paper from the coffee table and scribbled it down. The address seemed familiar, but I couldn't decide why. Dr. Hill was silent for a moment.

"Is there anything else?"

"Olive, this one isn't quite like the others."

"What do you mean?"

"He's—well, he's seven."

_Seven?_ "You know I can't help kids. Those repressed memories don't surface until adolescence. Sorry, but I can't do anything about this one."

"I think you ought to at least have a look."

The tone of his voice made me shudder. "I wish I could help, but there's nothing I can do."

He paused. "Olive, it's Jeremiah Benson."

My heart skipped a beat.

"He's your godson, correct?"

"Yes." But he was more than that. Jeremiah was the closest thing I had to a real son. His mom, Shawna, died when he was four. Even though she was a couple years older than me, she'd been my best friend in junior high. But she'd started using drugs and dating the wrong boyfriends, so we'd parted ways. I hadn't seen her until she called me a few years ago.

I remembered visiting Shawna in rehab before she died. She had two kids out of wedlock—Sissy and Jeremiah. Shawna had gotten addicted to heroin and knew how bad things were. She knew she couldn't control the drugs, or the inevitable overdose, so she'd begged to me to watch over her children. I never forgot what she told me. _I want you to be more than just their godmother_ , she said. _I want you to be their guardian angel._

Despite Shawna's faults, I couldn't let her children suffer the same way she had. I'd given her my promise that day.

Sissy and Jeremiah had gone to live with a foster family—the Dickinsons. They were nice people. The kids were safe there.

A pang of guilt gnawed at me because I hadn't visited for a couple months.

"What are Jeremiah's symptoms?" I asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"He hardly wakes up. Sleeps almost twenty-four hours a day. From a medical perspective, it seems like a coma. But my gut tells me it's something else."

"I'll rearrange my schedule and visit him in the morning."

Han Solo bounded onto Dr. Hill's lap. He gave the cat a half-hearted pat on the head.

"You still have the cat, I see."

"Can't seem to get rid of him."

He moved the cat off his lap. Han Solo glared before stalking away. "Be careful tomorrow," Dr. Hill said. "I know this magic, voodoo stuff is the norm for you, but something feels wrong about that boy. I can't put my finger on it."

"Wrong how?"

He shook his head. "I wish I knew."

_What had happened to Jeremiah?_

"Call my receptionist tomorrow. She'll give you the insurance details."

"Sure," I mumbled as he stood.

He said a brief good-bye and good luck, shot Han Solo a glare as he brushed cat hair from his pressed suit, and left.

I leaned my head against the wall. Through the living room door, I glanced at my bed, the coverlet a ghostly gray under the moonlight streaming from the window.

Seeing a strange apparition in my mirror and learning that my godson was in some sort of coma worried me. Would I get any sleep tonight? Probably not. Those pills from Doc Hill were starting to sound more attractive. And Albert Einstein's reassurance of my sanity wasn't helping.

# Chapter Three

I woke up in a bad mood. Before I'd even opened my eyes, I could tell it would be a long day. Han Solo leapt onto my face and made himself comfortable. It was hard to sleep with fifteen pounds of cat on my face, although I tried.

The shower didn't help my bad vibes. I kept thinking about the night before, about that thing I'd seen in the mirror. As I dressed, I avoided the mirror. Last night's vision conjured images from something I'd seen a long time ago, something I thought I wasn't afraid of anymore—a dream I'd had as a kid.

I guess even grown-ups get scared of nightmares.

I wore my jade green sweater and leather boots, smoothed on some lip gloss, and hoped the circles under my eyes wouldn't scare Jeremiah into a worse state.

My heart clenched at the thought of my godson. I couldn't stop feeling guilty. Maybe if I'd visited more often, this wouldn't have happened. What would Jeremiah's mom think of me? Shawna had trusted me to be her son's godmother, and I'd given her my word to protect him.

But I couldn't blame myself yet. Maybe I could still help. I'd never been able to help kids before, but I would try.

A gust of November air stung my face as I opened the door and made my way down to my car. The humidity made the cold air seep through my clothes and burrow into my skin. Wrapping my knit scarf close, I headed for my Thunderbird. It fit the definition of transportation most of the time.

The car was a 1971 classic—yellow with black stripes down the sides. I'd fallen in love at first sight... I just wished I'd looked more closely under the hood before I bought it. Hoping it would be warmer out of the wind, I grabbed the handle, pulled the squealing door open, and climbed inside.

Nope, not much warmer. Smells of old car greeted me, scented with what was supposed to be a honeysuckle air freshener. My hands shook as I jangled the keys into the ignition. With a silent prayer, I turned the key. The engine cranked on the first try.

Lucky. Maybe today wouldn't be as bad as I thought. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the causeway. Driving down Seawall Boulevard, I noticed the ocean looked extra agitated today. Brown water churned like stomach acid, roiling and unhappy, cresting over the sand and landing with determined force against the stone barriers meant to keep it at bay.

Galveston Island was known for three things: the medical school, hurricanes, and cruises. I'd experienced the first two but had always been too broke for a cruise. Too many med-school loans to pay back.

Galveston was an odd place. A long, narrow island off the coast of East Texas, it thrived off its tourism industry, but that hadn't always been the case. It had a grisly history. The pirate Jean-Laffite once called it home, and before he left, he burned the place to the ground. Later, after the island had become a thriving port city, it became the sight of America's most deadly natural disaster, the hurricane of 1900, where six thousand lives were lost.

Today, there's still evidence of its history. Despite the hurricane, many historic homes still crowded its streets. The Strand District hosted a collection of historic hotels and timeworn buildings turned whatnot shops. I didn't know if I'd spend the rest of my life in Galveston, but for now, I called it home.

Turning down 61st Street, I hit the causeway and drove off the island. Jeremiah's house was a twenty-minute drive into a Houston suburb. I was thankful I wouldn't have to brave the downtown traffic again.

I took the exit and drove through the neighborhood until I spotted the Dickinson's house. As I pulled into the driveway, apprehension knotted my stomach. The house didn't look any different—same seventies-style ranch home with the cracked-concrete drive, same lawn choked with more weeds than grass, same weathered toys littering the porch.

Getting out of the car, I grabbed my bag and slammed the door to make sure it shut. The stone footpath was an obstacle course of discarded playthings.

I'd always felt Sissy and Jeremiah were safe here. The house could definitely use some upgrades, but the kids were with a real family, something I could never offer them. They had parents and brothers and sisters. I envied them—I'd never had any of that.

As I rang the doorbell, chimes sounded inside. Mrs. Dickinson had several foster kids, so I expected to hear a stampede of feet, a chorus of voices shouting that someone was at the door, a flurry of excitement as the door was flung open.

Surprisingly, I waited in silence. Moments ticked by. I glanced at the Cozy Coupe on the porch, its seat filled with rainwater, and wondered if I'd come to the right house.

Finally, the door opened. Sissy, Jeremiah's older sister, peeked through, her brown face set in a scowl, her kinky hair knotted and uncombed. At fourteen, she barely looked older than ten. I didn't know the details, but I guessed her life had been pretty rough.

"Hey, Sissy. I came to see your brother."

"Jer's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yeah."

I peeked behind her, knowing she wasn't being honest. "Are you sure I can't come inside? Is your mom here?"

"My _foster_ -mom," she corrected me and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, is your foster-mom here?"

"No, she's gone, too."

The door started to close when another figure emerged behind Sissy. Mrs. Dickinson came to the door and caught it before Sissy slammed it in my face.

Time had exacted its toll from Mrs. Dickinson. She looked closer to sixty, though I knew she was in her late forties. The only jewelry she wore was a gold cross necklace. She reminded me of a substitute teacher after a long day with a rowdy class, but I'd never heard her yell. She smiled too much for that.

"Olive?" Mrs. Dickinson asked.

"Hello, Bonnie. I've come to see Jeremiah."

Her brow creased.

"Didn't Dr. Hill tell you I was coming?"

Mrs. Dickinson stumbled as she opened the door and let me inside. "He didn't mention it."

"Really?" That wasn't like him. Dr. Hill was too much of a perfectionist to let something like that slip. I stepped onto the entryway's floral-patterned linoleum. Smells of bleach and musty carpet drifted through the house.

"But you're welcome anyway." Mrs. Dickinson smiled, revealing teeth stained by years of coffee. I imagined someone raising a house full of foster kids needed loads of the stuff.

Sissy eyed me. "So you're playing doctor today?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid this won't be fun and games like our last couple visits."

She stiffened. "Jeremiah don't need any more doctors, and he don't need you stuffing pills down his throat."

Mrs. Dickinson rounded. "You need to be polite, young lady."

"Don't give me that 'young lady' bullshit. I'm his sister. Doctors screwing him up."

I stared, shocked. _When had Sissy gotten a mouth?_

"Sissy." Mrs. Dickinson rested her hand on Sissy's shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"I'm not like the other doctors," I spoke up. Holding up my laptop case, I took a step forward. "See? I keep my tools in here, magic stuff."

She laughed. "Yeah, whatever. You lying. Just like ever'-body else. Lying."

I nodded toward Jeremiah's room. I could see his door down the hall. A thin line of pale light drifted from the crack at the bottom. "I know it's been hard for you. I know you feel like you have to protect him."

"Damn right."

I inhaled. Not only had she found her mouth, she'd found a filthy set of words to go along with it. Unzipping my case, I pulled out my most important tool.

With Jeremiah, I wasn't sure this thing would work, but I wouldn't know for certain until I tried. When I opened the mirror, blue light sparkled, casting the room in a soft glow.

Sissy crossed her arms and sniffed.

_What the heck? Has she seen magic before?_

Mrs. Dickinson reeled back, grasping the door handle to keep from falling. "Oh, my," she gasped. "What is that?"

Sissy sneered at her foster mom. "It's fake—that's what it is. You know what? Y'all do whatever you like with Jeremiah. As soon as I'm sixteen, I'm out of this place." Sissy headed down the hall and slammed her bedroom door. The _Keep Out_ sign slammed with it.

Mrs. Dickinson attempted to smile. "She's had a hard life."

I clicked my mirror shut. "I know."

Mrs. Dickinson exhaled, that sound only bone-weary mothers could make. "Well, let me show you to Jeremiah," she said, attempting a polite tone.

I followed her into his bedroom.

My heart broke the instant I laid eyes on my godson. His pale face peeked from his Sponge Bob blankets. He didn't smile. I guess I'd never seen him without a smile on his face.

Dark magic. I felt it the instant I saw him. Something evil was at work here, and it was my job to find out what.

I walked to the bed and sat beside him. His eyes cracked open an inch, but he didn't acknowledge me.

"Hi Jer," I said and took his hand. "It's Olive."

His eyes closed. The unsteady rhythm of his breathing filled the room, and his clammy fingers relaxed in my grip.

_What could have caused this?_

Mrs. Dickinson stood by the bed. "When did this happen?" I asked her.

"Three days ago," she replied, her voice weak. "I took him for his checkup with Dr. Hill. We came home, and he collapsed. I called Dr. Hill as soon as it happened, and he told me to bring him back in." Mrs. Dickinson sighed, staring at the ceiling as if she didn't want me to see her tears. "Carl is out of town. I had to leave the rest of the kids with Nigel so I could take care of him."

"Nigel?"

"Nigel Green—Mr. Green—the foster home director. But Sissy refused to leave Jeremiah's side." She looked at me, pleading. "He spent two days in the hospital. They ran every test under the sun. Finally, they diagnosed him with depression." She barked a bitter laugh. "Depression."

Pausing, she stared at me. "Can you do anything?"

I patted his shoulder, his nightshirt soft under my fingers. Propping my mirror on my knee, I clicked it open and prayed I could help him. The mirror was never intended for children. Visitors to Faythander didn't struggle with repressed memories until later in life, and I doubted repressed memories were causing Jeremiah to be catatonic.

The fog of Faythander light curled around the mirror's surface. It touched my skin, warm and full of energy. I spun it around to face Jeremiah. With his face in the mirror, I started the test. If he had traveled to Faythander, he would have been in contact with any number of species. This assessment would prove it.

I took his hand in mine, feeling the familiar, crescent-shaped scar on his wrist from where he'd been bitten by a dog a few years back. Seventeen stitches. He wouldn't go near dogs anymore. It made me realize how much this little boy had already suffered in his short life.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Dickinson asked.

"If Jeremiah visited Faythander, one of these figurines should trigger his memories."

"Faythander?"

"Fairy world, sort of."

"Olive, I know you've been doing this for some time, and I know Dr. Hill trusts you. But fairy world?"

"It's a lot to swallow, I know. But if you think about it, we've known about the place for centuries. Dragons, elves, pixies—they surfaced in paintings and writings as soon as humans learned to form words. More people have been there than you realize."

Mrs. Dickinson stared, unconvinced, but I didn't expect anything else.

I placed Jeremiah's hand on the first figure, the dragon. I'd painstakingly detailed the pewter piece and placed an actual dragon scale inside the metal. If Jeremiah had seen dragons, this piece would trigger it.

Jeremiah's eyes remained closed, unchanged except for a slight twitching behind his eyelids. The dragon didn't have any effect.

The elf came next. I gently moved Jeremiah's fingers over it and glanced from his face to the mirror. If he found the right figure, I could usually see the memories come to life in the glass. But Jeremiah's face remained unchanged, the mirror empty.

Moving his fingers, I tried the Wult next. Wults aren't really a true Faythander species. They crossed over from Earth almost fourteen hundred years ago. In those days, they were called Vikings.

I pressed Jeremiah's fingertips to the pewter helmet and animal-skin cloak. The Wult statue had the same results as the last two. Sighing, I wondered if I had lost my touch. Usually, I would have gotten somewhere by now.

I glanced at Mrs. Dickinson. She smiled, but I pegged her as a skeptic. I'm sure she pegged me as a lunatic.

"I'm not sure if he needs this," she said.

I grinned, trying to exude confidence. "If Jeremiah's problem has something to do with Faythander magic, this test should pick it up."

"Even if he's never been there?"

"Technically, we should be able to find out if magic is at work." As I glanced at Jeremiah, his eyes fluttered slightly. For some reason, a feeling deep in my gut, I knew something unnatural was at work. I wished I knew what.

We'd made it to the last two statues, the pixie and the goblin. I cringed at the sight of the goblin statue. Myths and legends never portrayed goblins accurately. In books, goblins looked ugly but harmless. Real goblins looked more like zombies, their bodies skeletal and stretched with transparent skin. Instead of mindless killing machines, their magic was incredibly strong, their minds probably more intelligent than the elves.

Though the goblins possessed powerful magic, they hadn't managed to surpass the dragons. If they had, the sky king—the dragon lord of Faythander—wouldn't be king anymore. But I knew it was only a matter of time before the goblins found a way to beat him.

I placed Jeremiah's hand on the pixie statue. Nothing.

Fuzzy hair, like the down of a gosling, poked out from the pixie's head, and muscles wrapped the warrior statuette's body. He wore a loincloth and carried a spear. Wings with sharp tips curved from his back. Pixies didn't resemble their cartoon animations. Most of them were close to seven feet tall. If you ever wondered where a treasure troll's hairdo came from, just look at a true pixie. I'd never understood how pixies became so warped over time.

My heart gave a fearful flutter as I turned to the last statue. The goblin stared back, challenging. _Please don't let it be the goblins._

I looked at Mrs. Dickinson before moving Jeremiah's hand. She stared blankly, uncomprehending. If only she realized what I was about to do.

Lifting his fingers, I hesitated before placing them on the goblin. What if goblins were involved? What would happen to him? What would I do? Whatever the outcome, I had to know the truth in order to help him.

I touched his finger to the statuette.

The mirror fogged for half a second, so brief I could have imagined it.

_Deathbringer_ , the mirror whispered.

I shuddered and pulled Jeremiah's hand away.

If Jeremiah had encountered goblins, the memory would have replayed in the screen. For nothing to appear brought me two conclusions: whoever held Jeremiah's mind used goblin magic, and they didn't want to be found.

# Chapter Four

"What's wrong with him?" Mrs. Dickinson asked.

I clicked my case shut. "I don't know. He must be under a spell of some sort, but I've never seen an enchantment like this." I studied Jeremiah's face, wishing I could talk to him. Something must have changed since I'd seen him last. But what? "Has he woken for very long?" I asked. "Has he said anything?"

"The doctors gave him something to keep him awake. They said it would stimulate his cerebral cortex. It didn't work."

Jeremiah stirred. He mumbled something, and that's when I paid attention to his twitching eyes. He was dreaming.

A thought struck me. If I could enter his dream, I could possibly communicate with him and find out who had spellcasted him.

I lifted my bag and pulled out my dream catcher. Turquoise beads clanked along the loom. I ran my hand across the tightened strings and striped blue jay feathers. Magic caressed my fingertips. Native American magic.

I'd been trained in dragon magic, but Native magic had been easy to pick up. They were very similar. I focused on Mrs. Dickinson. "This will be my last test, I promise. Would it be too much if I asked you to step out of the room?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll just wait outside." She stepped out the door and walked into the hallway.

Her disbelief wouldn't help with this sort of spellcasting. If I wanted to succeed, I'd have better chances with her out of the room.

I glanced at Jeremiah. I couldn't leave him alone until I knew more about what was going on with him. I felt dark magic. I had to know where it came from.

Closing my eyes, I summoned the symbols I would need for the dreamcasting. Going into someone's mind was never a walk in the park. I could get lost in there if I weren't careful, and I wouldn't have anyone to pull me out. Coupled with the strange dark magic I felt, I knew this might very well be the stupidest thing I'd ever done. But I needed more information, and Jeremiah's mind was the best place to find it.

Holding the dream catcher, I focused on the dream symbol. Magic symbols were unique from person to person. That's why it was so hard for people to learn real magic—no one could teach it to them. A person had to discover every symbol, every magic word, on their own.

I clenched the dream catcher in one hand and let my other hand rest on the warm skin of Jeremiah's forehead.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, steadied my breathing, and then let my mind wander through the dream catcher and into Jeremiah's consciousness.

The scent of rain filled the air. A chill wind gusted as the room disappeared.

I opened my eyes.

An open field covered in gray ash surrounded me. Large boulders with ancient carvings sat haphazardly on the open plain. I spotted a jagged mountain range in the distance and realized I'd seen those peaks before. I was in Faythander—but why had I come here?

A hand grabbed mine. Jeremiah stood beside me. I knew I'd made it inside his mind—into his dream—but how could he be dreaming about this place if he'd never been here?

"You came," he said and smiled. Short, cropped curls covered his scalp. He'd always been on the chubby side—baby fat, I guess—and his large, chocolate-brown eyes sparkled when he got excited. They lit up when he looked at me.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit sooner," I said.

"It's okay. Are you going to take me bowling again?"

"You liked it that much?"

"I loved it."

"If you loved it, then I don't have a choice, do I? But I've got to figure out what's wrong with you first."

His face darkened. I felt his fingers tighten around mine.

"Are you afraid of something?" I asked.

He nodded.

"What's scaring you?"

"I can't tell you," he whispered.

"Why?"

He shook his head in a quick motion, his fingers cutting off my circulation. I knelt to be eye level with him. "Why can't you tell me?"

Tears formed in his eyes. "Please don't make me talk about it."

I hugged him to my chest. "I'm sorry. I'm only trying to help you."

The wind picked up around us, blustering with a wail that rose in pitch.

He sniffled with his nose buried in my shoulder. Tears moistened my sleeve. I hugged his tiny body to mine, praying I could find a way to get him out of this place.

"It hasn't been here in a while," he whispered after a few sobs.

I pulled away. _It?_ "Can you tell me what it looks like?"

He cried. Fat tears streamed down his cheeks.

What had him so spooked? I knew I didn't have much time. "Can you tell me anything about what's been scaring you?"

"No, no, no..."

I pulled him back to my chest as his body shook with sobs. I needed more information. Anything he could tell me would help, but I didn't dare ask him again. If he told me anything, it would have to be because he wanted to.

His body went rigid. I felt an iciness behind me, a feeling that crept up my spine and chilled me to the bone.

"Dreamthief," he whispered.

"What?"

"Behind you."

I rounded slowly. All the irrational fears I'd experienced as a kid came rushing back. Fear grabbed hold and wouldn't let me make the tiniest of movements. It wouldn't let me breathe. I stared in horror as a humanoid form materialized in the mist. Chills spread through my body as if I'd been submerged in ice water. The image in my bathroom mirror, in my dreams as a child, formed in front of us. A tattered black cloak, a face like a human skull, as tall as two men—I knew who this was.

_Charon_.

I don't know why I'd always been afraid of the mythological figure. I'd had a nightmare as a child, that I'd been wandering the river Styx and had fallen into the water. Charon had rescued me. And then he'd told me he hadn't saved me, that I was dead, and he'd taken everyone I loved away from me. Death. Charon would later symbolize death. When I'd woken, it had taken me a long time to shake off that kind of fear. I didn't know if I ever had. Even now, as an adult, I still feared that nightmare.

An emotionless chill seeped from his empty eye sockets. He would come for me. He would come for everyone I loved.

I tried to scream, but the fear wouldn't let me. I managed a gasp, which I must've made outside the dream because the spell began to fade. I tried to hold on, but the magic pulled me away as if I'd been sucked into a whirlpool.

Jeremiah's fingers tightened. "Olive?" His eyes grew wide as I faded. "Olive!"

I tried to hold on. The world spun around me. Jeremiah's hand broke free from mine.

" _Don't leave me!_ "

I tried to scream that I would be back, but the fear held me. It wouldn't relent. Jeremiah's screams echoed in my ears, and the paralyzing terror stayed with me as I woke.

I couldn't move, even as my godson's bedroom came into focus. My hand was still pressed to his forehead. I concentrated on breathing, and the fear retreated a tiny bit, giving me the strength to move my hand. A clammy sweat covered my body, so I took deep, calming breaths.

That kind of fear was something I'd never experienced. When people say paralyzed with fear, it's not just a euphemism. It's a real thing.

Jeremiah was still in that place. I couldn't stand being there for five minutes, and he was still in there. The thought almost drove me mad. Pressing my eyes closed, I listened to the drumbeat of my heart echo through my ears. I couldn't help him as long as I fixated on his fears—or on mine—so I concentrated on the one thing I had control over.

I would get him out. I had no idea how, but I would get him out.

# Chapter Five

Two days later, after poring over every book in my apartment, I hadn't gotten any closer to solving Jeremiah's problem. I felt as if Death stood over my shoulder, prodding me, mocking. I knew a human body couldn't survive dark magic for an extended time. Death would have him if I didn't find a cure soon.

Finally, I came up with a simple sleep spell to ward off nightmares. I knew it couldn't overpower the dark magic by a long shot, but after administering the spell, I watched Jeremiah's eyes stop twitching. His face seemed more at rest. At least, I imagined it did.

Sitting on my bar stool at home, I mindlessly chewed a mouthful of omelet. My eyes were glued to an old Faythander text called _When Death Cometh_ , by LM Peerling, but I felt as if I hadn't learned much. You lived, you died. Not earth-shattering revelations.

I scanned the back page.

_Continued in the next volume,_ When Dreams Cometh _, Peerling explores the realms of the human psyche and the power locked inside._

That was the book I needed. Only one problem—it had been out of print for more than a hundred years, and in Faythander, finding a book that old was nearly impossible.

I jumped when my phone rang, blaring "White and Nerdy" by Weird Al Yankovic from the speakers—my boyfriend Brent's ringtone. The faux-rap gave me an endless source of amusement. Brent hated it.

I grabbed my phone and answered it. "Hey," I said.

"You sound like crap."

"Thanks." Brent was all about compliments.

"You coming today or what?"

"Where to?"

Brent sighed. I knew I must drive him crazy. I never called, I always forgot anniversaries, and I never bought him a birthday present—not even a card. I'm not sure why he put up with me. In my defense, we never celebrated those things in Faythander.

"Lunch with your mom. It's today."

_Today?_

"Please tell me you didn't forget."

"No, I'm coming." I closed my book, but I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to stay in my apartment until I figured out what to do with Jeremiah. Rubbing my eyes, I realized I could use some fresh air after several days with little sleep and my head brimming with too much information.

"I'll come pick you up. I know what your car is like," Brent said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That POS? Look, just get showered. I'll be there in half an hour."

"I'm insulted, you know."

"No, you aren't. See you at ten." He hung up.

Han Solo bounded next to me and sniffed my half-eaten omelet. Fluffy, gray fur tickled my nose as he brushed past. He purred and sat in front of me, nudging my hand, demanding attention.

"What am I doing, Han? I spent half my life in Faythander, but I don't know a thing about dark magic. How can I help Jeremiah if I don't even know where to start?"

He mewled. If he were giving advice, I couldn't understand a bit of it. Maybe he was telling me to take it easy, not to be so hard on myself.

Albert Einstein spoke up. He agreed with the cat.

"Dessert is in the fridge. Crème brûlée and bananas Foster. I know it's a bit much for lunch. I hope you don't mind," Mom said.

We sat at the immaculate dining room table. The place settings, the food, the entire house looked like a picture ripped from _Better Homes and Gardens_. I still couldn't comprehend how one person could have it all together. On the outside, at least.

"I brought my homemade tamales." Brent placed a brown paper bag on the table, and the smell of spiced meat filled the air. "Do you think it's enough?"

"For three people?" I asked, holding back a laugh. Was he serious? How much food did he think we could put down?

"I hope so," Mom replied. "I'll make some bruschetta, too. Just so we'll have enough."

"Mom, please don't make bruschetta." I stared at the spread on the table. She'd made it all—turkey sandwiches, made with cucumber and dill, fried potatoes, green beans, quiche cups, cheese wedges, and now she wanted to make bruschetta?

"It won't take long, sweetheart."

"Really?"

"Of course not. But if you think we have enough—"

"We do."

"All right. No bruschetta. I'll save it for next time." Mom smiled. She didn't look a day over thirty. Sometimes we got mistaken for sisters. While my once-bright-ginger hair had darkened to a dullish red-brown, her hair was a soft auburn that fell in silky waves down her back. Her skin was pristine, flawless, not a single freckle. At times, I wondered if we were related. But we did have a few similarities. We were both too stubborn for our own good.

You'd think the teenage years would have been difficult with the two of us in the house, but we hardly fought. She asked me to get my socks off the floor, and I did. I asked her to come to my school plays, and she did. I think we both understood that if we ever got into a real fight, one of us would end up behind bars, or dead.

Brent and Mom kept up most of the conversations during lunch. I nodded or smiled when necessary. To be honest, I felt completely out of place. The intricacies of human communication were something that escaped me.

Brent stood. "Delicious as usual, Kasandra."

"Thank you," Mom said, beaming.

"Can I help with the dishes?" Brent asked.

"I won't let you. Guests aren't allowed to do dishes."

I snatched Brent's plate out of his hands and headed for the kitchen. "I'll wash them."

"You don't have to do that," Mom said from the dining room.

I ignored her, needing to feel useful. They'd both contributed to the meal. What had I done? I'd forgotten lunch, hadn't even toasted a piece of bread, and now I felt guilty for it.

I wondered if I'd ever get it together.

Brent wandered into the kitchen looking flawless in his pressed khakis, name-brand polo shirt without a wrinkle, and Italian-leather shoes. I guessed landing a job as one of Houston's top architects helped you look like that. Feeling inadequate in my clunky Doc Martens and frayed, jean skirt, I glanced away. Brent stood behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and leaned in. "You look hot washing the dishes," he said.

I groaned inwardly. Feminists would've had a heyday with that line.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

I wiped a hand across my cheek, dotting it with suds. "I think you'd be happier dating my mom," I answered.

"I'm happy enough dating you."

"Happy _enough_?"

"I think you're cute. And you're the smartest person I've ever met—especially when it comes to all that fairy-world stuff you go on about."

"Faythander," I corrected.

"That's what I meant."

I stared out the window. Gray clouds loomed in the sky in a severe straight line. It seemed as if the clouds were trying to press against the roofs, like they were squeezing all the life out of those mansion homes. I wondered how many people out there felt like me, like they didn't fit in with their own family.

Bill Clinton suggested I pull it together.

Putting the last dish on the drying rack, I wiped my hands on the towel next to it and looked at Brent, attempting a pleasant smile. It was harder than I'd thought. I couldn't stop worrying about Jeremiah. If the dark magic continued, he would die. Why couldn't I talk to Brent, tell him what was going on, let all my feelings gush out? But as I stared at him, I couldn't say a word.

"Mind scooting over?" he asked. "I'll put the dishes away."

"Sure," I mumbled.

Mom walked into the kitchen. Smiling, she motioned me to follow her into the office. I trailed behind her.

She stopped near the double-glass windows that looked over her backyard. With gray mist clinging to the wrought-iron furniture, the oleander bushes, and the mermaid fountain, the view reminded me of something from _The_ _Secret Garden_.

She'd kept the office the same since my dad's alleged accident. Pictures of an attractive officer in uniform filled the walls. Army plaques filled the rest of the space. War hero. That was my dad—at least, that was the person my mom was supposed to remember.

My real father was an elf from Faythander. She didn't remember him. Her memory had been altered so she would be able to be a good mother to me. She thought the man in those pictures, who vaguely resembled my real dad, had been killed at war when I was twelve. He was an honest, brave soldier who had given his life for our country. And he'd left an enormous inheritance.

In truth, she'd had a roll in the hay with an elf. When she returned to Earth, she had no memory of it. A false memory was created, a dragon hoard was cashed in, and here I was.

Mom went to her desk and pulled out a brochure. She showed me the cover.

A picturesque scene stared back. It could have come straight from paradise with its white, sandy beach and well-placed palm trees. A building resembling a Tuscan villa stood near the shore. The title on the front labeled it the _Bay Area Mental Hospital and Research Institute_.

"Pretty. Why are you showing me this?"

"It's the new hospital. They're opening it next month."

"Okay."

"You should apply, Olive."

"Me?"

"Why not? You went to school for how long? I thought you'd like to have something to show for it."

"I do have something to show for it."

"But if you worked here, you'd be getting an actual paycheck, sweetheart."

"I already get paid. I love my job."

"But look at you. You don't even look like a real doctor."

"And what, exactly, does a real doctor look like?"

"Not like you, sweetie."

I exhaled.

Mom pushed the brochure closer. "Just look at it. You might decide you'd like a change in your life."

I crossed my arms and didn't touch it.

"Have you heard a word I said? You could move out of that apartment. You could get a real house, for goodness's sake. You aren't getting any younger. What will you do when you get married? Have kids? You really think you can support a family on the money you make now?"

"Kids?" She had to start with that again.

"You'll have them someday, even if you think you won't."

I heard the contempt in Mom's voice. She'd never wanted me. Even with all these fake memories, she still knew, deep inside, that she'd never wanted me.

It hurt. I felt the pain acutely. To know that my mother didn't want me was something I'd never dealt with.

I took the brochure and stuffed it in my pocket, knowing where this argument was going.

"Well," Mom said, "I'll make some coffee, and we can chat with Brent. He's so charming. I'm so happy you found him."

"Yeah," I mumbled, trying my best to agree.

After three hours of bland conversation, I rode home with Brent. As we drove through the neighborhood, I fastened my seatbelt and felt the brochure crinkle in my pocket. Pulling it out, I stared at the quaint scene on the front.

"What's that?" Brent asked.

"Something my mom gave me. She thinks I should work here."

I stared at the colossal homes as we passed by and realized I would never be happy in a place like this. I needed wide open spaces—beaches, mountains, or trees—and enough room to breathe.

If I took the job at the new hospital, making more money than I knew what to do with, I wouldn't live here. I'd move somewhere with mountains. A lake would be nice. I'd build a log home with a back wall made entirely of glass just so I could wake up every morning to that view. In my daydream, Brent woke up beside me, though he looked out of place wearing his khakis and polo.

"So, what do you think? Would you like to work there?" Brent asked, attempting to sound casual.

I knew better. "Mom already talked to you about this, didn't she?"

He cleared his throat. "It would be a good opportunity."

"Would it?" I thought about Elmore. I thought about the countless others I'd helped out of their repressed memories. I thought about Jeremiah.

"Decent paycheck, brand new hospital. Research opportunities. I don't see what's holding you back."

Of all people, I thought Brent would understand. But how could he? How could anyone understand if they'd never been to Faythander? Maybe I was being too critical.

"Brent, surely you know I can't work at a place like that. The people I'm helping—they're suffering, and I'm the only person who can help. I can't turn my back on them because I want a bigger paycheck, or because my mom wants me to."

"Or because your boyfriend wants you to?"

He turned onto the highway and headed for the island. We didn't speak much after that. We usually didn't.

When he pulled into my apartment's parking lot, he stopped the car and gave me that intense look he saved for moments like this. "I wish you'd think about this job. Just for once, you might find it useful to take your mother's advice."

I glanced at the brochure. My knuckles turned white as I clenched it. "I'll think about it," I mumbled, knowing I wouldn't.

Brent leaned over and brushed a kiss across my cheek. He took my hand and smiled, but I wasn't in the mood for smiling back. "Don't stay mad for too long; you know how much I love you."

I stared at the storm clouds brewing overhead.

"Besides, I'm taking you out next week. My treat."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to." He squeezed my hand.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, long and pealing. I wondered why I was here—not just with him, but what I was doing with my life. I wondered if he really had a place in it.

"Why do you stay with me?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a terrible partner. I can't keep up with the laundry or dishes, I've forgotten every anniversary we've ever had, and you can't say it's because I'm attractive, because I know—"

"Olive," he cut me off. "I'm here because I want to be. Okay?"

I stared into his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

_How could he want to be with me?_ It didn't make sense.

"Besides, a guy at my age... I'm not getting any younger, if you know what I mean. Girls have ignored me my entire life, but when I met you, it was different. You talked to me. You acknowledged me. How could I pass on a chance like that?"

_Ah, this explained it._ He thought I was the only girl who would have him. I supposed I should have been upset. Instead, I felt relieved. I felt tempted to tell him that there were other girls out there. That not every girl in the world would ignore him. That maybe we should go our separate ways. But I've never been good at communicating my feelings to Brent.

Bill Clinton reminded me of the absurdity of the situation, although he offered no solution on how to fix it.

I opened the door.

"Take care," he said as I climbed out.

"You too."

He drove off. I don't know why, but I watched his car until it disappeared down the road.

# Chapter Six

My apartment complex loomed over me. I saw why Mom hated it so much. It was ugly. Rusted metal bars clung to cracked window frames. Litter spoiled the terrace in the front. It bothered me a little, but this was home.

As I walked to my unit, I thought about my life here on Earth. I'd tried for years to fit in with the human race but had failed. I felt as if I were twelve again, sitting on the couch in my mother's spotless living room, feeling desperate to please her, to be normal, and realizing I may never be.

When I reached the second floor landing, I crossed to my door and pulled out my keys. Han Solo dashed forward as soon as I opened the door and stepped inside. He rubbed against my leg, and I patted his head, thinking of Jeremiah.

He needed me. Despite my inability to fit in with the human race, some of my talents made up for it. I could help people—I could help Jeremiah. But I couldn't do it here. I had to go back to Faythander.

My stomach twisted in knots. Could I do it? Could I admit that I didn't belong with the human race? In truth, I never had. My elven father had made sure of that.

"I have to go away," I told Han.

He purred as he shifted from paw to paw.

"I'm going back to Faythander." Saying it out loud scared me. I hadn't been in twelve years. I knew my adopted family wouldn't disown me, but would they be disappointed with me?

I remembered to leave a few extra scoops of kitty kibbles out for Han. My mirror sat on the counter. I opened it and stared at the screen.

The mirror was more than a tool for helping me diagnose patients. It was also my gateway to Faythander. I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Jeremiah needed me. What happened to him took precedence over my personal comfort. I pressed my hand to the glass and let my mind relax.

My stomach tightened. The feeling of leaving this world and entering Faythander could cause anyone to feel unsettled, though I had an advantage—I remembered both worlds when no one else could. The mirror's glass warmed my hand as power flowed from it.

The floor fell away. Smells of my apple-spice air freshener disappeared. A tiny mewl came from a great distance. Dizziness made my head spin.

The scent of open woods filled the air. I opened my eyes, and the world teetered around me. I clutched the mirror to my chest and sat down before I collapsed. Taking several deep breaths, the ancient forest filled my lungs. I'd come home.

I glanced around the forest, wondering if twelve years had changed it. Trees as tall as cathedral spires spanned toward a sapphire sky. Their leaves remained a deep autumn red, even through the winter. A carpet of grass, softer than anything on Earth, cushioned me. Towering mushrooms circled the forest floor. The house-sized fungi grew in shades of fluorescent green, dark amethyst, and orange with brown spots; sometimes, I wondered if the Grimm brothers had stopped by here once or twice.

Nobbinflies flitted past me, their glossy, black bodies reflecting the afternoon sunlight. They looked like tiny cats with wings. Instead of tails, a plume of dark feathers fanned the air behind them. I held my finger out, and a nobbinfly fluttered close. It hovered, then settled on my skin.

Had I come home? I felt relieved it hadn't changed. So much in my life seemed uncertain, always changing. But not here.

I gently shook the nobbinfly off my finger, grabbed my laptop off the ground, and stood. Sounds of nobbinfly wings brushed the air like thousands of dry cornhusks in the wind.

As I walked through the forest, memories came flooding back. I'd grown up here, run through these woods chasing maywelters or fairies or nobbinflies. Then, I would go home to my house on the mountain. I don't think a child could have been happier.

As I followed the path out of the woods, the trees thinned, and soon I stood on the edge of a cliff that plunged deeper than the Grand Canyon. The valley extended all the way to the elf kingdom. Afternoon sunlight shone over the rocks and pits dotting the gorge. Far in the distance, I saw the spires of the elven city of Lauressa. Light-rails stretched away from it and crisscrossed the ground. The golden rails sparkled with the sun.

Elves had become more advanced than modern humans. They traveled on light-rails, a system more efficient than highways and gas-guzzlers. The cars that traveled the rails looked a little like Cinderella's carriage, painted in gold. Except for the goblin lands, the light-rails would take you anywhere—free of charge, of course. The elves were too obsessed with a utopian lifestyle to charge anyone. And they'd even begun to explore space. I'd heard they were building a Mars colony. But they had magic to help them, so I suppose in that way, they cheated.

I scanned the horizon. Most people relied on the light-rails for transportation, but not long ago, unicorns, the Pegasus, and even some uncommonly friendly pixies were used for traveling. But I knew of a better way to cross the countryside.

My dragon figurine sat inside the mirror case. I clicked the case open, pulled out the statuette, and conjured the magic word— _come_ —in my mind. The dragon scale inside it hummed with magic.

A warm breeze brushed my face, melting the chills I'd had from living in Galveston.

Minutes later, a gold dot sparkled in the distance. My heart leapt. As it drew closer, I heard a sound like the whooshing of Niagara Falls. Golden scales reflected the sun in a prism of colors.

I took a step back. Fan'twar, the sky king of Faythander, flew toward me. Dragon wings spanned from one edge of the sky to the other. Although he'd raised me, I still felt impressed by the sight.

The sky king beat his wings several times as he landed. I smiled as I stared into his topaz eyes.

"I'm glad you came, Fan'twar," I said, feeling relieved to see him after all these years. "I thought you might have forgotten me."

His laugh was a deep, powerful rumble that shook the ground. He leaned his head closer so I could look into his eyes. Irises the color of honey and black-slitted pupils reflected my face.

If I hadn't been his adopted daughter, I'm certain I would have been frightened.

"Forgotten you? Dragons only forget when it is convenient to do so. You should know this."

I smiled. "You're right. But I'm still glad you came." I stepped away from the massive plume of golden spikes rimming his face as he ducked his head.

"I've grown quite lonely since you left."

"A whole cave full of dragons, and you're lonely?"

"Dragons don't understand the mechanics of conversation as well as you do." His smile revealed rows of pointed teeth. "You've grown quite a bit."

"So have you."

He laughed. It felt good to hear his laugh. "I've grown fat on pigs and sheep. The elven plantation masters are ready to have my head on a spike. I may have to burn a village soon to keep them in order."

"I'm sure you will." In my entire life, I'd never seen him burn a village. "And I thought you were vegetarian."

He chuckled. "I thought I might mislead you. But you are too clever for my jokes. You haven't changed. I still prefer a great leafy tree to a fat pig. I suppose I haven't changed, either."

He had no idea how relieved I was to hear those words. I grabbed a ridge on his back and scooted between two spines. The fit was a bit tighter than I remembered.

Fan'twar turned his head to stare at me. "You haven't told me why you've come."

"Trouble," I replied. "My godson is under some sort of spell. I suspect dark magic."

"It is unusual for Faythander magic to reach into Earth Kingdom."

"I know. I have to find out what's causing it. I have to stop it."

He cocked his head. "This is not the first I've heard of the strange dark magic."

"What do you mean?"

"The dragon herds on the outer islands have been under attack."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who's attacking them?"

He shook his massive head. A low growl rumbled through his chest. "They are creatures of dark magic, though I do not know more. I plan to travel to the outer islands soon, but first, I will help you."

"Thank you, Fan'twar."

Fan'twar nodded and stretched his neck into the air. He spread his wings, took a leap, and plunged off the cliff. My stomach plunged with him.

# Chapter Seven

Faythander unfolded below me like a huge map painted in brilliant colors. I'd forgotten how breathtaking this place could be. It resembled Earth, but at a closer glance, the trees grew taller, and the plants bloomed with magic, making them glow in a myriad of colors.

Almost paradise. The picture on that brochure Mom had pawned off on me didn't hold a candle to this place. It made me wonder why I'd ever left Faythander. And then I remembered how I'd wanted to be human and to live like everyone else.

The sky king's mountains loomed ahead—huge, jagged cliffs along the horizon. The sheer rock face of the mountains rose steeper than anything Mt. Everest could boast.

Seeking an audience with the sky king meant risking your life. Most people turned around halfway through the climb. By then, they'd already figured out how to settle their dispute, figuring it couldn't be any harder than climbing the cliffs for an audience with the king. Those who reached his chamber had a very good reason to be there. And usually, he helped.

The cliffs jutted out, and I saw the gray overhang that marked the entrance to the sky king's chamber. He dove toward it. Gritting my teeth, I kept my hands clamped around the spike. I'd never fallen before, but I couldn't help imagining sliding off.

Not soon enough, Fan'twar's massive, clawed feet connected with the cavern's floor. Sounds of whooshing wings echoed through the chamber as dragons flew inside to greet him.

A long time ago, before most races remember, the dragons had been a dying breed. I'd heard that Fan'twar had united the dragons and taken control of the entire continent of Faythander. He'd ruled ever since as the sky king.

After dismounting, I tried to keep my stomach from losing its lunch and followed Fan'twar to the main cavern.

Memories flooded back as I stared from one cavern to the next. My old bedroom was to the left. The dragons had decorated it as best as they could. They'd found discarded items from Earth—Styrofoam plates, running shoes, picture frames—and pinned them to the walls. Glancing inside my bedroom, I saw that it hadn't changed.

I continued to follow Fan'twar through the cavern. Other dragons milled about. Blue water dragons, a couple of sun dragons, and a whole herd of green landwalkers gathered.

A sense of awe overcame me as I entered the sky king's chamber. I'd lived here half my life, and still, it impressed me.

Azure-blue crystals grew from the walls and floor. Some of them grew taller than trees. They sang with a faint hum. True Faythander magic radiated from the crystals. Their power swelled inside me and rejuvenated my own magic.

At the center of the room rose a circular, silver dais. Water flowed around it like a miniature moat. Melimars swam through it, looking like small mermaids with corn-silk hair. I'd spent hours here as a child, talking to the melimars, wondering what it would be like to swim all day.

Crystals, growing in the form of a chandelier, hung over the dais. Magic rushed through the spires with bursts of lightning.

The sky king slid onto the dais and collapsed, shaking the ground around him. A ledge jutted out around the dais, so I leapt across the small stream and took a seat near Fan'twar on the rock's edge. Several melimars darted through the water beneath us. Droplets of water sprayed my skin as Fan'twar playfully flicked his tail at the creatures. He heaved a great sigh as he turned to me.

"Time passes quickly, Olive. I'm glad you've come, though you smell distinctly human."

"I am human."

"Half."

"Half." I sighed. He had to remind me.

"Your father asks about you. I wonder why you haven't spoken with him."

I ran my hands through the water and wondered how the subject of my father had come up so quickly. "I'll talk to him. It's not like I'm avoiding him." I stole a glance at the sky king.

His golden eyes narrowed. He didn't buy it.

"I just feel like he doesn't want me. Whenever he came to visit, I always felt as if I were a burden. I'm his child from a human woman. He's ashamed of me. That's why I grew up here and not with him."

The sky king rested his chin on a massive claw. "That isn't the reason," he said gently.

"Then what is?" I asked, searching his face for an answer.

"Because I wanted you."

"You wanted me more than my own father?"

"He knew I would train you better than he could."

We needed to change the subject. I cleared my throat. "What do you know about a Dreamthief?"

"Dreamthief," he said, drawing out the word. "A very old name. It originates from a legend from the early days of Faythander."

"After the rending?"

"Yes. The rending of the two worlds, of Earth Kingdom and Faythander. Do you remember the history of our worlds?"

Fragments of memories flooded back as I tried to remember. "When God created the Earth, it was a single place, beautiful and perfect. Eden. Am I right?"

"Go on," he said.

"And then something happened. A being called Theht caught sight of our world. In jealousy, he flung a fireball, intent on wiping out the plants, the species, the world. Instead, he split our world apart—one world with magic, the other with none. Both spheres reside within one another. Both developed. In Faythander, the continents never split. Pangaea remained, later called Faythander. Magic thrived, shaping the world. Dinosaurs evolved into dragons. Humans developed into elves, pixies, and goblins.

"Humans on Earth visit Faythander, though they can't remember it. We visit Earth and don't remember, either, unless we're lucky enough to have a memory charm. Or unless you are of both human and Faythander descent, like me. But what does this have to do with the Dreamthief?"

"The Dreamthief was a being who existed after the rending. He was to be the vessel who welcomed Theht back to the world."

I swallowed. Anything having to do with Theht was never a good thing. "And he steals dreams?" I asked.

"Not directly. His followers used dreams to fuel their spells."

This was worse than I thought. "Spells for what?"

"To bring Theht back. To finish what he started."

"Destroy the world?"

The sky king nodded.

"But why? Why would Theht's followers want to destroy their own world?"

"Not all creatures view the world, or life, as we do. They think to bring equality and peace."

"Through destruction?"

He nodded.

I felt a sudden chill. "But what do they want with Jeremiah?"

"A child's dreams are the most powerful. Children can't filter fear as adult humans can."

Acid churned through my stomach. "They're using Jeremiah's nightmares to fuel their spells."

"It seems the logical answer. But why? And even more importantly, who? Goblins worshipped Theht long ago, but when I came into power, I forbade them from it. I destroyed their temples. But it seems as if someone has rediscovered an ancient religion. Whoever has taken your godson's soul has also unleashed a great evil on the outer islands."

"But why would they want to go there? I thought there was no one on those islands except the wild dragons."

"That is what you are meant to believe. However, there is a great, secret magic that the dragons protect with their lives. If Theht's followers were to access this magic, it could spell doom for our entire planet. It could mean the demise of both our worlds. Theht is not a being to be taken lightly."

I shuddered. "So, someone who worships Theht is stealing my godson's dreams, using his dreams as fuel for a spell, and trying to steal magic from the outer islands. But who? Isn't there a way to find out?"

"You did the dreamcasting already?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Think on it. Did you see anything in young Jeremiah's mind that stood out?"

I sighed, remembering the dream. An image of the barren landscape formed in my mind. I saw Jeremiah. I shivered when I saw Charon, or possibly the Dreamthief. "I saw Charon, although the being could have been the Dreamthief in disguise."

"Yes. In the dreamstate, the Dreamthief can appear as anyone. What else do you recall?"

I remembered the conversation I'd had with Jeremiah and concentrated on every detail. Nothing seemed to stand out. I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Think harder," suggested Fan'twar. "Even the smallest of details could be important."

I imagined the dream again, envisioning every rock, every cloud... and then I remembered. "The mountains," I said. "I recognized them, the border between the Wultlands and goblin lands."

"Are you sure?"

I hesitated. The mountain range I'd seen looked old, with cliffs worn and blackened like the Cliffs of Wult. "Do you have a map?" I asked.

The sky king leaned forward and touched the tip of his claw into the water. Golden light swirled, and the water transformed, displaying a perfect map of the continent of Faythander.

The northlands were strictly the realm of the goblins and mostly unexplored. Goblins hoarded their power, so outsiders weren't allowed in. Bordering the goblin lands on the west and south were the Wultlands. The elf realm, the largest kingdom, occupied the east coast and the heart of Faythander. The southlands remained in the pixies' control, and dragons controlled the west coast and parts of the southern continent. The Rheic Sea took up the rest of the planet.

I focused on the Wult mountains. In the dream, I'd seen mountains in the distance, so the location had to be somewhere near the foothills. But the mountain range covered half of the Wultlands. How could I find the exact spot?

Part of the mountain range bordered on the goblin lands. My heart sank. What if Jeremiah's dreamself was in goblin country? "I don't know where he is," I said. "He could be anywhere."

Fan'twar peered at me with his glowing, amber eyes. "Do you remember anything else from the dream? Any clue to his location?"

I closed my eyes, trying to focus, to remember. We'd been on an open plain, I remembered that, and the mountains were in the distance. And the stones. I remembered the stones surrounding us, similar to the ruins of Stonehenge. "Stones," I said. "Ancient things, like remnants of an old civilization. Is there anywhere near the mountains where a place like that exists?"

"The old Vikings," Fan'twar answered. "When they first arrived here from the Brimlake, they built a temple. Only its ruins remain."

"Do you think that's what I saw?"

"Perhaps."

I stared at the map. Fan'twar pointed to a narrow strip of the Wultlands bordering the goblin lands. He indicated the mouth of a bay. "This is where the Vikings first entered almost fourteen hundred years ago. Their temple should be someplace nearby."

"Are there any other places like that?"

"To my knowledge, this was the only temple near the mountains. Shortly after their arrival, they moved closer to the elves to begin pillaging."

"But the place was deserted. I didn't see any Wults nearby."

"There wouldn't have been. The Wults consider the place cursed. They believe it to be haunted by evil skull-faced spirits called the Regaymor."

"Skull-faced?" _Like Charon?_

He nodded.

"Then that must be the place where I saw Jeremiah's dreamself. Can you take me there?"

Fan'twar hesitated. "The ancient ruins are not a place I am welcomed. The Wults allow no one there."

"No one?"

"They will kill anyone who travels to the ancient temple, believing them to be tainted by the Regaymor's spirit."

"Then I guess I'll have to sneak in."

"No, there are better ways. You must obtain King Herrick's permission."

I rubbed the tense muscles in my neck. I'd never dealt with the Wults for one reason—they were impossible to deal with. "But would he agree to let me go? I thought you said they'd kill anyone who goes there."

"Wults aren't keen on keeping order. Finding a way around their laws shouldn't be difficult. But you must take care, Olive. The ancient ruins are dangerous. And I fear that whatever is happening may be worse than we understand."

I still couldn't fathom why anyone would want to harm Jeremiah. Most creatures of Faythander avoided crossing over to Earth. Once they returned, their memories of Earth would be erased, just as those crossing from the other direction. If the worshippers of Theht had returned, why would they risk losing their memories to kidnap Jeremiah's mind? I knew the only way to find answers would be to go to the source of the trouble.

Fan'twar's golden scales gleamed in the crystals' light as he crawled off the dais. "The Wult king and his court are much closer than you realize. They are in the elf kingdom, preparing for the marriage of their prince. I shall fly you to them if you wish."

I hesitated before climbing onto Fan'twar's back. The Wult prince was famous, or infamous, depending on how you looked at it. He had a sort of Chuck Norris reputation. The guy had killed at least one of every species of beast in Faythander and had a castle full of stuffed carcasses to prove it. He was the only known being to kill a jagamoor and survive. With his bare hands. While he was tied up. He'd only spilled his own blood once, and from it grew the dragons' forest. When the queen of the fairies had gotten sick, the fairy court sought the prince's tears for the cure. Unfortunately, no being could make him cry.

Okay, maybe the last couple things I made up.

"The Wult prince is getting married?"

"Yes, to Princess Euralysia."

I almost choked. "The elf princess?" Wults and elves didn't mix. I couldn't believe they were actually getting married. I guess more had changed in twelve years than I'd realized.

# Chapter Eight

The capitol city of the elf kingdom, Lauressa, appeared over the horizon. The golden spires of the castle rose above the rest of the city. Elves loved gold in their architecture, accented with pearls or diamonds. I found it ostentatious, but what did I know?

As Fan'twar circled around the city, he explained why we'd come here. I listened to him over the rush of wind through my ears. "The Wults haven't stopped plundering from the elves in fourteen hundred years. The elves always thought negotiations would work, but after so long, even an elf's patience thins. It's either marriage or war."

"War?" Elves weren't warlike. It seemed out of character.

"That's why they're counting on this marriage. If not, elves see war as their only option left."

"Could the Wults really have a chance against the elves?"

"Not at all. Wults are stronger fighters, of course, but elven technology would have the entire race decimated in a week."

"Wow," I breathed. "Would the elves really do that?"

"At this point, I see it very likely to happen."

Coming from the sky king, one of the most perceptive creatures I'd ever known, I knew he meant what he said. An entire race wiped out, and by the elves.

"I'll take you to the great hall. The Wults are celebrating there. You shouldn't have any trouble negotiating with the king and organizing a clan to accompany you to the ruins. Many Wults are anxious to leave the elven city."

_Yeah, I bet they are, with their pockets full of loot._

Fan'twar dipped his head and plunged toward the city. Golden spires spun in my vision. The whoosh of the light-rails sounded in the distance, and the city sparkled in the sunlight. Fan'twar spiraled around the castle until he found an open courtyard.

With a thunderous strike, Fan'twar's feet connected with solid ground. My heart pounded in my ears as I loosened my fingers from the spike. Adrenaline pumped through my blood. Nothing compared to riding a dragon. It was more exhilarating than skydiving. I'd never get used to it.

I dismounted the dragon and landed on the cobbled courtyard. Several elf warriors, wearing plumed helmets, shining gold breastplates, and crimson tunics, came to attention as they stood around the circular yard.

A soldier carrying a basita weapon marched forward. Except for the gears and magical mechanisms replacing the hilt, the weapon resembled a common sword, but I knew those blades could disintegrate a person with a click of the gears, and that was nothing compared to the energy pulses they emitted.

The elf guard stood at attention several feet away from us. "The capitol city of Lauressa welcomes you, Sky King." He spoke like a true elf, his words soft as velvet and slightly accented. "If I may, what reason do you have to visit us?"

Fan'twar nodded. "My ward wishes an audience with the Wult king."

"Ah!" the elf said. He eyed me and then turned back to the sky king. "Of course. I shall escort her right away."

"See that you do," Fan'twar growled.

The elf bowed, though his eyes didn't flinch. Not a single strand of his russet hair fell out of place. If Fan'twar rattled him, it didn't show.

As I stepped away from the sky king, the elf's glare deepened. He said nothing, but I saw him size me up—my dark-reddish hair, my near-human ears, my skin the color of his. His stare only lasted half a second, but I knew what he thought. _Half-elf trash_. If I hadn't been the sky king's ward, I knew he would've had something to say about it. It didn't bother me anymore. I couldn't help who my parents were. I didn't understand why it bothered everyone else.

He addressed Fan'twar. "If she'll follow me this way."

He marched to an alcove, his heavy boots thudding over the paving stones, and I followed. Twelve massive pillars overshadowed the courtyard, one over each alcove. They looked more delicate than glass, but I knew those twisting towers, carved with vines and grape blossoms, were stronger than steel. I doubted even Fan'twar could bring them down.

Pacing behind the guard, I entered the alcove. Behind me, I heard Fan'twar beat his wings several times. Leaves and debris got caught in the air current. With a whoosh, my stepfather disappeared into the air, leaving me alone. I felt a twinge of nervousness as he left. Dealing with elves had never been my forte. I hoped I didn't get thrown out before I reached the Wult gathering.

A narrow corridor lined in smooth marble stretched toward a set of golden doors. The guard paused at the doors, opened them, and led me through. His face remained unreadable.

The door slammed shut behind us. We stepped into a broad corridor lined with wooden benches. A set of oaken doors stood at the end of the hallway. Laughter echoed from inside.

The guard peered at me through narrowed eyes. "Our negotiations with the Wults are delicate. Only the magistrate can allow you inside. Unfortunately, his schedule is quite demanding of late. If you will wait here, I will summon him." He pointed at one of the benches.

"How long will this take?" I asked.

His back stiffened. "Hours, perhaps. Is this unacceptable to you, human?"

I ignored his quip about humans, though I heard the distaste as he said the word. Elves were incredibly patient creatures. I knew when an elf said it might take a few hours, it meant the better part of a week. I didn't have a week. Jeremiah didn't have a week. "Yes, it is unacceptable. I must meet with the Wult king now. Can't you let me in?"

"I cannot. I would advise you to be patient. A true elf would have no problem with this concept." The guard turned on his heel and marched away.

"This is ridiculous, you know," I called after him.

He didn't answer.

As I sat, I knew waiting wasn't an option. I stared down the doors. Picking locks had never been one of my specialties. I'd have to find another way inside. I supposed I could go talk to the magistrate myself, but that could possibly take more time than waiting here.

_Elves and their stupid rules._

"Want inside?" someone asked. I looked up to see a man leaning against the doors. Where did he come from? His facial hair, broad shoulders, and bare feet told me he wasn't an elf. His hands looked strong enough to split someone's skull. Blond hair, blue eyes, tanned skin; he looked like he'd come straight from Asgard.

"You're Wult?" I asked him.

"What gave it away?"

"Do you know how to get in there?" I asked.

"Can't," he said. "They're locked in. Been in there for two weeks now. Can't even come out for a piss."

_Lovely._ "If they're locked up, then why aren't they all crying and screaming and begging for help?"

"Wults never cry. And they won't beg for help."

A roar of laughter rattled the doors. "Sounds like they're miserable," I said.

"Trust me, they are."

"How did you get out?"

He winked. "I have my ways."

He pried his massive frame off the wall to stand at his full height, and I made a mental note. _Never get in a fight with this guy._

"I could help you get inside if you wish."

"Could you?" I stood and crossed to the doors. He moved in front to block them.

"It will cost you."

_Here we go—the old Wult bargaining game_. I wasn't in the mood to play.

"I have no money."

He eyed my bag. "Surely you have something of value."

"No," I snapped. "I have nothing you'd be interested in. Either let me inside, or this conversation is over."

"Show me what's inside the bag, and then we'll decide if the conversation is over."

I tightened my grip around the strap. "What happens if I refuse?"

He leaned forward. "Do you really want to find out?"

Magic throbbed under my fingertips. Would I have to use it?

"Very well," he said with a wink. "I have decided that asking nicely shall be your price."

I exhaled. My magic receded for now. "What makes you think I won't ask nicely? You just met me."

"I'm very good at reading faces."

"Unless you're genuinely interested in helping me, I suggest you move aside."

He ducked his head in a courteous bow. "If that is your wish." He stepped aside. "You see—you didn't ask nicely." He tapped his nose. "Told you."

I exhaled a frustrated sigh and stood to face the doors. I gave the handle a good jerk.

"Try knocking," he suggested.

I glared at him, then I knocked. I'm not _completely_ stubborn. After a minute and a half of banging on the doors, I decided to try a new approach. I turned to Thor the Skullsplitter. Obviously, he'd known knocking wouldn't work.

"Could you help me?" I asked. After a pause, I added, "Please?"

His smile broadened, revealing clean white teeth that dentists everywhere would have praised. "You _can_ ask nicely."

I crossed my arms. "Are you going to help me or not?"

He mimicked me and crossed his arms. Muscles bulged under his shirt. I tried not to notice. "It will still cost you."

Oh, good grief. "But I asked nicely! Does it look like I have anything to trade?"

"I didn't ask for a trade."

"Look," I said, attempting to stay even-tempered. "You want something? Fine. But I've got nothing right now. How about I pay you later?"

"Later is no good."

"Then I'll find my own way in." I turned my attention to the locked doors. _I could always use magic..._ I'd hoped I wouldn't have to resort to that, but I didn't have time to bargain, I didn't have time to beg, and my patience was growing very thin.

Picking locks wasn't my expertise, but blowing stuff up? That I could handle.

Focusing my energy, I held my hands an inch away from the wood, closed my eyes, and concentrated. I needed the symbol for _door_. Or better yet, the symbol for _wood_. In my mind, I created a picture of an oak tree and held it there. My magic surfaced. With controlled force, I let the magical energy burst through my fingertips and slam into the doors.

A loud crack erupted through the hall. The doors split apart and clattered to the ground with a thud. Dust rose from the rubble. A room full of Wult warriors stared at me with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

_Hey Skullsplitter, guess I didn't need your help after all._

# Chapter Nine

Vikings didn't wear horns. Wults didn't, either. They also didn't drink from skulls or wield clubs. I guess everyone gets stereotyped.

Wults _did_ plunder. A lot. And they were pretty good at getting drunk, which I found out as soon as I blasted my way into the hall. I could have gagged from the stench of alcohol, but oddly, I didn't detect any body odor. I suppose that was also a stereotype.

A man with a faded blond beard walked toward me, his eyes fixed on the broken doors. A leather tunic stretched over his large middle. He stood a few inches shorter than the average Wult, though he seemed no less intimidating. His smile seemed friendly enough, but with one glance at his hardened eyes, I decided to think twice before challenging him. I recognized him—King Herrick.

He tapped his fingers on his broadsword as he inspected the heap of wood. "You've broken our doors." He spoke with calmness, though I heard the displeasure in his voice. "What an interesting display." He calmly removed his sword from his sheath and pointed the blade at my heart. "Have you come to challenge us? Because if you have, know that you are treading dangerous waters. We are not used to challenges by half-elven outsiders, though your boldness is duly noted."

I took a step away from his sword and weighed my choices. Choice one: I could fight. I could demand the Wults accompany me to their temple ruins. I could put on a showy display, maybe break a few tables, smash some helmets, and let them know I was serious. I was the sky king's charge, and they had to do what I asked. I had enough magic to bring down this whole building if I wanted. Choice two: I could ask nicely.

"I'm not here to challenge you. As the sky king's ward, I've come to ask a favor."

"I don't grant favors."

_Of course he didn't. Fine. New tactic._

"I've come to propose a bargain."

This seemed to get his attention. I knew that with the mention of the sky king, his head had filled with all sorts of images of dragon loot.

"Bargain?"

"Yes."

He eyed me for a moment longer. Silence filled the hall. He must've been deciding whether to behead me or accept me—Wults never did anything halfway.

His face stretched into a smile, and he replaced his sword. Lopsided scars pulled at his ruddy skin. "A bargain!" He clapped me on the shoulder, then pulled me toward the center of the room, where tables sat laden with enough food to feed the Wults until next spring. "Brodnik, bring the lady some ale."

A man—I assumed Brodnik—shoved a large tankard at me. I grabbed it before it splashed my Docs. "Thank you," I mumbled.

We stopped by a table adorned with every cut of meat imaginable. Bones littered the floor, most of them picked clean. "Some boarhound for our visitor," King Herrick called as he pushed me toward a bench.

I took a seat beside a Wult woman who wore her dark hair in a long braid. She gave me a smug glance as I sat next to her.

King Herrick grabbed a knife, impaled it through the boarhound flank, and shoved it onto a plate in front of me. "Eat!" he called. "And then we bargain."

I was still going with option one, so I supposed I'd better make a good show of it. In true Wult fashion, I grabbed the thighbone and ripped a chunk of meat out of the flesh. I supposed I made a good impression on the king, because he slapped my back with enough force to make my teeth rattle.

After a few mouthfuls of food, King Herrick took a seat across from me. He laughed and talked with the Wults surrounding him, but I got the impression he was doing more than that. Maybe I'd grown paranoid, but I got the feeling he was sizing me up, looking for my weaknesses.

"And what would this bargain be about?" he asked after a pause in the conversation.

I swallowed my mouthful of boarhound. "I need permission to travel to the Wult temple in the Borderlands."

King Herrick knitted his brows. "For what reason?" His tone changed. He sounded more confrontational. I needed to choose my words wisely.

"I suspect a spell has been enacted in the temple ruins. My godson's spirit is being held captive there."

"Those ruins are sacred. Forbidden to outsiders."

"That's why I've come—to get permission to travel there."

King Herrick leaned forward. "Those ruins are forbidden to outsiders for a reason."

A hush came over the room.

"Evil spirits dwell in that place. I doubt you'll get a soul in this hall to take you there."

I glanced around the room. Surely, he couldn't be serious. I had to get to those ruins no matter what. A big fellow with a rust-colored beard sat near me. He shook his head when I looked to him. Another woman did the same.

"I can't accept that answer. If no one will accompany me, then I'd like permission to go by myself."

King Herrick's leather creaked as he leaned forward. "Trespassing on holy ground isn't taken kindly by our people."

_Translation: Go there, and we'll kill you._ Right.

"I can offer money."

"No good."

"Treasures from Earth Kingdom, perhaps?"

He shook his head.

Go to the ruins and be killed. Don't go, and Jeremiah would die. I felt trapped. There must have been another solution. I could go with choice two, but I felt as if that should be a last resort.

"I'll take her." I heard a voice across the room and turned. My old buddy Thor the Skullsplitter leaned against the wall, all casualness, as he stared at me.

Great, I wasn't sure this counted as an option, either. I wondered what he'd want in return. My firstborn?

King Herrick's voice boomed though the hall. "Kull?"

"I've heard tales of Earth Kingdom's dinosaurs. I'd like the carcass of one in return."

I coughed to hide my laugh. "Dinosaurs?"

"I'll kill the beast myself as long as you can take me to it."

Maybe I should go along with this. He didn't _need_ to know they were extinct. Then again, I'd already decided I didn't want this guy as my enemy.

"No good. The dinosaurs are all dead—have been for several million years. Only their skeletons remain."

"Dead?"

"Yes. Sorry."

Kull heaved a disappointed sigh. "Ah, well. I suppose I could settle for the bones of one of the beasts."

A dinosaur skeleton? Houston's natural science museum had a T-Rex on display. Stealing it wouldn't be easy, but with my magic, it might be possible. I couldn't believe I was actually contemplating this. But did I have a choice when it came to Jeremiah's life?

"Assuming I help you get the skeleton, will you take me to the ruins first?"

Kull scratched his beard. "Possibly."

The King rose. "Don't forget about your marriage, my son."

So, this was the famous prince. Were the rumors about him true? I'm sure Princess Euralysia was thrilled to be getting hitched to this guy. Would the T-Rex skeleton be her wedding gift? Would he mount it on the ceiling over their bed?

King Herrick crossed his arms. "I won't allow it."

A deviant smile spread across Kull's face. "You think I'll run?"

"I know you will."

Prince Kull jumped onto the table. "Do you think I'll run?" he shouted.

The Wults clamored, "No!"

"No?" Kull asked.

I felt like I was watching one of those wrestling matches. If Kull had changed his name to the Kidney Crusher and put on some hideous spandex, I was sure it would have been.

"You think I'll let you down? Let our country go to war because I don't want to sit still?"

"No!"

I could see it in everyone's eyes. Devotion. The people loved this guy.

"Your king thinks I'll run. Do you?"

" _No!_ " they shouted.

King Herrick stepped forward. His eyes smoldered. "Get off the table."

Kull's smile faded. He didn't move.

King Herrick's hand moved to his belt.

"What's this?" a voice shouted from the broken doorway. A pair of elven soldiers stood at the door. I recognized one of the guards as the man who'd escorted me in here. He surveyed the room, took one look at me, and narrowed his eyes.

"Who did this?" shouted the other guard.

Kull jumped off the table and strode toward the guards. "No need for shouting."

" _She_ did it." The first guard pointed at me. "The sky king's ward. Go get the magistrate."

"What about the door?" the guard asked.

"The magistrate will repair it."

Kull walked toward them. "I'm sure there's no need for the magistrate."

I chimed in. "This was a misunderstanding. I can fix the doors. Really, the magistrate doesn't need to be involved."

"You must go and fetch him immediately," the first guard said to his friend.

The guard gave me a severe look as his buddy left the room. He pointed his basita weapon at Kull as the prince closed the distance between them. "Stay there," he called.

Kull raised his hands as he inched forward. "Do you really want to make a bad impression on your future kinsman?"

"I said stay there."

Kull stopped a few inches from the barrel of the basita gun. I wondered what Kull was up to.

The guard swallowed. "I have orders. You're to stay here until the marriage is final."

"Am I? Must have slipped my memory."

The guard leveled his gun at Kull's chest. "I said not a step further."

Kull lunged at the guard. The elf dropped his weapon and fell back. Kull scooped up the basita. Metal squeaked as he bent it in half. The guard tried to scramble upright when Kull placed one foot on the man's chest.

Kull laughed as the guard struggled to stand.

King Herrick stomped toward his son. His already-ruddy cheeks flared bright red. "Son, stop this!"

"I haven't harmed him."

"Return his weapon."

"I was about to." Kull tossed the hunk of metal onto the floor. It clanged near the guard's head.

"Get off him!"

Footsteps echoed up the hallway.

The elf guard reappeared, followed by a man I had wanted desperately to avoid. He'd arrived so quickly, I guessed the magistrate wasn't as busy as I'd been encouraged to believe.

"What has happened in here?" the guard not on the floor demanded.

On shaky feet, the second guard rose and grabbed his useless lump of metal. Kull crossed his arms. "No need for panic."

"He broke my weapon."

"An accident."

"He lies!"

Both guards turned to the magistrate. Unfazed, he peered at the broken doors. His face remained a mask of calm intelligence. He didn't react to the broken weapon. Instead, he seemed more intent on studying the shattered wood.

When he turned to me, I couldn't help but flinch.

"Hello, Olive," he said in his silken voice. "You did this?"

I plastered a smile to my face. Might as well get this over with. "Yes, Father, I did."

# Chapter Ten

I'd never questioned why my mom fell for my dad. My father, Magistrate Pozin III, had an ageless face of sharp angles and porcelain skin. His thick black hair never seemed out of place. He wore it in a long ponytail down his back, held together with leather cords. His velvety blue robes accentuated his lean, elven frame. Magic radiated around him like a magnetic field. He was magistrate for a reason—not because of a family pedigree or money. He'd fought for it. He'd earned it.

I'd beaten my fair share of opponents in magical duels, but he would never be one of them.

My father cleared his throat as he studied the chunks of wood littering the floor. "You used elemental magic?"

"Yes."

"And broke the door down?"

"Yes."

He plucked a piece of wood from the floor. "Why not just use a naming spell? You could have opened the doors without breaking them down."

"Guess I wanted to make an entrance."

He studied me with unflinching, almond-shaped eyes. "I see."

Interesting introduction. No, _hey how are you? Haven't seen you in twelve years._ _How's your mother? How's your life?_ We got straight to the point, like business associates. As a child, he'd visited me often enough, but he'd always seemed distant, as if it were his duty to visit me and nothing else. I wondered if that was how he thought of me now, as a professional obligation.

He took a step back to survey the doorframe.

The elf guard with the ruined gun spoke up. "Magistrate Pozin, if you will—I'd like to lodge a formal complaint against the Wult prince—"

"Not now, Echorion."

"But sir, he attacked—"

"Not now," my father repeated with steel in his voice. He turned to me. "Did you learn this spell in Earth Kingdom?"

"Not exactly. I use a mixture of Native American and dragon magic."

"Hmm." He plucked up another splinter and studied it. "You do not favor elven magic?"

"Not if I can help it."

He shot me a questioning glance, looking as if he wanted to question me further, but then he thought better of it. "Have you been in the city long?"

"No. And I must leave soon."

"That's regretful."

"Regretful?"

"I will give your regards to the assembly. They have always looked forward to meeting you, and I am sure they had hoped you would join us for dinner. But they are understanding. Under the circumstances."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to inconvenience them." Nothing had changed. The same song and dance we'd been playing at for years—you stay out of my life, and I'll stay out of yours.

Blue magic hummed beneath his fingertips as he ran his fingers over the doorframe. The guards stared at the magistrate, though they kept their weapons pointed at Kull. They'd wanted an intervention from my father, but he seemed more concerned about the door.

"You might find it interesting to know that the door had been warded. You shouldn't have been able to touch it," my father said.

Warded? I hadn't detected any magic. I should have felt something, unless...

"You created the ward?"

He nodded.

Wow. Guess he'd been practicing. All practitioners left behind a trace of magic. I couldn't understand how he hadn't.

"I suspect because of our blood relation, you were able to penetrate the ward. I see no other explanation."

Blood. Naturally. What other explanation could there be? _Except maybe that I've been practicing, too._

"Will you return to the city soon?" he asked.

"Not likely."

"Very well. If you don't mind, I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course."

"It was good to see you again." His words sounded forced.

"And you."

He dipped his head in a curt nod and stepped into the corridor. The guards followed, although they only managed to aim one functioning weapon at the prince.

My father raised his arms. Electric blue light swirled around his fingertips, and bits of wood levitated from the floor, piecing together, fitting into the doorframe. He made it look so easy. A spell like that would have taken me hours to accomplish.

With a soft whoosh, the door sealed closed. It looked perfect, as if it had never been broken.

"Cowards," Kull muttered as he stared at the doors. "They treat us like prisoners when we should be honored guests."

"Because you nearly killed one of them. They're afraid of you."

"Yes, and so they are cowards."

King Herrick walked toward us with a sour expression. "This stops now, my son. I won't allow you to ruin this wedding. You have done nothing but antagonize the elves since we arrived here."

"I take great pride in doing so."

King Herrick's frown deepened. "Then I have no other choice but to banish you."

"Banish me? I think not. Who will marry the princess? Rogen?" He pointed to a man who wore a thick mustache and must have weighed as much a bull seal.

Rogen chuckled with the prince's remark, making his mustache quiver.

The king unsheathed his sword. "Enough! I will not be mocked. I order you to the farthest reaches of the Borderlands. We'll see how the skull spirits react to your antics."

Kull raised an eyebrow.

"I am serious. Take the human. Go to the Borderlands," King Herrick said.

"Are you sure?" Kull asked.

"Yes! Go," the king repeated.

"You _want_ me to leave?"

King Herrick exhaled. He seemed much older, his wrinkles deeper. I wondered how many gray hairs could be attributed to his son. "Return in time for your marriage. Do not get killed. That is all I ask."

"The elves will be angry."

"They'll be angrier if I allow you to stay here. You've not obeyed a single order they've given you. You've defied them to the point of bloodshed. Even an elf's patience wears thin. You will leave after tonight's banquet. That is not a request." He turned on his heel and marched away.

Kull's smile disappeared. I don't think he expected banishment. He'd wanted to escort me earlier, but that was before his banishment. Shocked faces filled the hall. Kull stuffed his hands in his pockets and stomped to an open doorway. "Follow me, earthlander," he called over his shoulder.

I hesitated. _Should I?_ Surely, I didn't need Thor the Skullsplitter to escort me to the Borderlands. I didn't know him very well, but I knew I didn't get along with his type—arrogant and stubborn. Either he or I would be dead by the end of this trip.

I followed Kull. He led me into a narrow hallway that stopped at a steep staircase. He didn't talk as he led me down the steps.

When we reached a door at the bottom of the staircase, he led me inside. We entered an armory. Cudgels, battle-axes, and a few swords filled most of the shelves. Why the Wults needed to bring so many weapons with them to the elf kingdom was a mystery.

Kull grabbed an axe and tested its weight, then threw it across the room. It clattered against the floor. "Banishment! What is he thinking? I am not a child. He's made a fool of me. He will regret this." He paced the room, his footsteps heavy.

I stayed in the corner, watching with a wary eye. He muttered under his breath, and then stopped by a sword that hung suspended from the rest of the weaponry. The broadsword caught my eye, not because it was embellished or overly ornate. With its tarnished, thick pommel and slightly tapered blade, it looked like a true Viking weapon.

I knew Vikings were particular about their swords. Wults treated their swords no differently. Most were heirlooms, passed down from father to son, and most were given names. I wondered what this sword was called. Brain Basher?

Kull grabbed the sword off the wall. I flinched, but he only ran his fingers along the blade as if it were a cherished friend instead of merely a weapon. After a few more minutes of alone time with his broadsword, he seemed to calm. I took a careful step forward.

"It's a lovely weapon," I said, trying to be polite.

He growled. "It is hardly _lovely_. This is Bloodbane—a weapon forged by my great-grandfather in the volcanic mountains of the outer islands. I trust this sword with my life."

"Then I will not get in its way."

_Bloodbane, huh?_ I hadn't been too far off the mark with Brain Basher.

"We travel to the Borderlands first," he said. "I'll give you two days to complete your quest. Then, you will escort me to Earth Kingdom, where you will help me retrieve the dinosaur's skeleton."

"You realize that once you cross back to Faythander, you won't remember going to Earth Kingdom?"

"I understand. It is enough for me to have the skeleton in my possession." He grabbed a scabbard off a shelf and buckled it around his waist, muttering something under his breath as he placed the sword in the scabbard and then grabbed a dagger. His knuckles grew white on the blade's hilt. "Isn't it enough that I agreed to marry the princess? His punishments are unjust, even by Wult standards."

"At least he didn't order your execution," I offered.

He pointed the dagger at me. "I did not ask for your opinion. If we are to travel together, then you will stay out of my affairs, understood?"

I crossed my arms. I may have been half his height with a harmless appearance, but I was not a pushover. "If we are to travel together, then I suggest you think before you speak. It's your mouth that gets you into trouble."

He threw back his head and laughed. "One could offer the same advice to you."

I shrugged. He was right. No point in arguing.

He grabbed a knapsack off a hook and stuffed a few knives inside. "Do you have any weapons?"

"Does my magic count?"

"No." He tossed a knife to me and scowled as he watched my clumsy attempt at a catch. "You'll have to practice with it."

A woman entered the room, and I recognized her long braid from earlier. She wore armor over her leather breeches and shirt that hugged her shapely frame. Her muscles bulged beneath silver arm guards. Her beauty was apparent, though she seemed aloof. Looking at her now, her steel-gray eyes, her arms crossed over her chest, she seemed more dangerous than I'd first judged her.

She stood taller than me. On closer inspection, I realized shiny, pink scars covered her hands and arms. It looked as if she'd been burned and hadn't healed properly.

"He isn't going anywhere without me," she said.

"Father would never allow you to travel with me, Heidel. You'll stay here."

"He's already granted me permission."

Kull cursed. "You'll kill us both."

"On the contrary. I mean to keep you out of danger. It wouldn't be the first time I've saved your skin."

"By the gods, you'll stay here, Heidel. I demand—"

She pulled a knife from her belt and casually pointed it at him. "You are in no position to make demands."

Their gazes locked.

Heidel's knife caught my attention—a black blade with a mirrored surface, curving from an embellished hilt. Wults never embellished their weapons. They thought it ostentatious. And they would never use black blades, either—it wouldn't show off the blood as well as a silver one. Why would she choose a weapon like that?

"You mean to challenge me over this, sister?" he asked.

"If I must."

"You will fail."

"Perhaps. But the fact remains that you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

"The battle with the Maywelter tribe. You stole from the chieftain's personal vault. He would have beheaded you had I not intervened."

"I had already escaped by the time you arrived."

"Or the time when I found you with the pixie king's daughter. Ulizet, wasn't it? The day before her wedding. You would have been stoned that time—or was it hung? I managed to lure the guards away, which took a great deal of planning. You have to admit, you wouldn't have made it without me."

Kull glanced at me. "She won't relent, will she?"

"It doesn't appear so. Maybe you should listen to her."

He crossed his arms.

"Maybe you _should_ ," Heidel agreed.

"Fine. You may come. But only if you swear to follow my lead and stay out of my way." Kull shouldered his pack. When he attempted to leave the room, Heidel blocked his path.

"No, I lead. I've traveled the Borderlands. I know the terrain."

"If I take the light-rails, I won't need to know the terrain."

"The light-rails do not lead to the temple. Why are you resisting me?"

Kull stared at his sister. "You forget your place."

"I am well aware of my place. Father knows I've traveled through the Borderlands. It is why he allowed me to escort you. I suggest you relent in your pompous chauvinism and allow me to do my job of protecting you."

His voice turned to a growl. "I won't forget this, Heidel." His knives clanged together as he stormed into the hall.

Heidel fidgeted with her blade, her back turned to me.

I cleared my throat. "That's an interesting knife," I said.

She tapped the hilt, finally seeming to acknowledge me. "It is effective."

"Is it?"

"Yes. When used properly. Did my brother give you a weapon?"

I showed her the knife.

"Good. Keep it close. This path we travel is one of grave danger."

"I've heard."

She left the room without another word.

I made my way to the dining hall. The king invited me to sit at the head table, though I couldn't imagine why—I'd offended his spoiled, princely son. Though, come to think of it, perhaps that's why the king wanted me to join him.

Soon after dinner began, the doors creaked open. The elf princess stepped through, followed by a few of her guards. With my vantage point from the head table, I couldn't get a close look at her, but I knew immediately that she was a practitioner. Her embroidered robes, delicate jewelry, and long, silvery hair couldn't hide her aura of magic. Her powers felt nearly as strong as my father's.

So, she was a sorceress. And a good one. It seemed rather convenient that the crown prince of the Wults should be getting married to one of the most powerful elven enchantresses I'd ever encountered. If he stepped one foot out of line, I had no doubt she had the ability to deal with him—kill him, most likely—and start a war if she wanted.

I felt as if I needed to warn the Wults, but perhaps they already knew of the princess's powers. Considering Kull's ambivalence toward magic, I doubted he would take me seriously.

Kull greeted his bride-to-be with a quick peck on the cheek, then led her inside the room. I noticed the noise levels in the hall diminished quite a bit. She flashed a forced smile at the assembled crowd, then took a seat next to Kull, near me and the king.

King Herrick rose. "The Wults welcome their future princess."

The enchantress nodded. Dinner continued, though I could hardly believe I sat in the same hall I'd come to earlier. After a few moments of eating in silence, the princess fixed her gaze on me.

"I felt your magic in the door just now. Earth magic. Where did you learn it?"

_Gets right to the point, doesn't she?_

"I've spent some time on Earth."

"Have you?"

"My mother is human."

"I see." She glanced at Kull and laced her fingers through his. "That explains it, then."

_Explains what? Why my ears aren't as pointy as yours?_

"I'm sure you must feel rather awkward in the elven city. Let me know if there's any way I can help you feel more comfortable. I'd be happy to show you around."

"Thank you, but there's no need."

"If that is your wish." Her head bobbed in a brief bow. "You'll have to excuse me for not introducing myself. I am Euralysia."

"Yes, I gathered that. My name is Olive."

"And I gathered that, as well. Teach me Earth magic some time? It seems fascinating."

"Does it?"

"Yes. Quite fascinating." She took a small sip from her goblet.

"I'm surprised you feel that way. Earth magic is nothing compared to elven enchantments. I think someone as powerful as you would find it boring."

Her eyes darkened. "I'm only a novice at magic."

"Are you?" What I'd suspected was true. The Wults didn't know of her abilities, which made me wonder what else she'd hidden from them.

"I have only a casual interest in magic. These days, I'm more focused on the wedding preparations. They've become quite tedious." Her laugh reminded me of butterflies and sunshine.

I took a sip of my wine to hide my smirk. Were the Wults really buying the flighty-girl routine? She was beautiful, for sure; maybe they couldn't see past it.

"Tell me what Earth Kingdom is like. I hear it's quite a savage place."

_Savage?_

"I suppose that depends on how pampered you are."

That laugh again. "I would travel there, but having my memories erased frightens me. How do you manage without your memories?"

"The crossing doesn't affect me. I suppose having parents from both worlds has something to do with it."

"Really? So you remember everything from Earth Kingdom?"

"Yes."

"Truly fascinating," she nudged Kull, "don't you think?"

He looked up with his mouth full. "Ah, yessh."

Euralysia turned back to me, her eyes silver under the flickering torchlight, and pressed her hands together. Her twining fingers reminded me of a spider's legs. "It's a shame that you're leaving so soon; I'd love to hear of Earth Kingdom. And of its magic."

That sounded like a horribly dangerous idea. Someone as naturally gifted as her could alter the course of both worlds with that much power. There wasn't a chance in this world or the other that I would teach her.

"Yes, a real shame."

# Chapter Eleven

Heidel and I waited in the corridor. Despite my elven heritage, patience had never been one of my virtues. How long did Kull and the princess need? They stood in the hall with their hands clasped. I imagined Kull was letting his bride-to-be know that he was going away for a while.

She brushed a delicate finger across his cheek and gave him a warm smile that almost looked genuine. For such a mismatched couple, they complemented one another—her magical strength and his physical. If they got along as well as they seemed, they'd become a formidable force of power in Faythander.

But did she really want to marry him? I supposed it was none of my business, but seeing the two alone together made me question if this marriage had been arranged. Seeing an opportunity for power, perhaps they'd planned it themselves.

Finally, the couple broke apart. Euralysia returned to the gathering hall, while Kull stalked toward me. Heidel joined us as soon as we reached the staircase.

"You took long enough," Heidel said.

Kull wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His smile looked genuine. Spending time with his fiancée must have put him in a better mood. I hoped it lasted.

"Jealous, little sister?"

She pushed him away. "Never."

Kull laughed, then turned to me. "Don't let her fool you, she'd drop that warrior's exterior in an instant if the right man came along."

"Lies," Heidel replied.

"Lose her wits to live in a castle with bare feet and a pregnant belly and seventeen little ones scampering about."

Heidel's eyes narrowed to slits. "The princess has made you lose your judgment, I see."

"Nonsense. If any man could get close enough without you slitting his throat, you'd be married in a week."

"Then you should know that I have a lover already—one that I haven't spoken of because I fear you would frighten him away."

Kull's eyes lit up. "A secret love! Splendid. When will you introduce us?"

"I won't. Ever."

"No need. I will make the introductions myself. Who is it? Brodnik? Gurnsten? Oh, wait— Fendelwort! Yes, that must be him."

"Agh!" Heidel threw her hands in the air and marched forward, leaving me with her brother.

"Are you two always like this?" I asked.

Kull cocked an eyebrow. "That was nothing—friendly banter."

"I see."

"Heidel knows I jest."

"Perhaps. But it also seems you know how to infuriate her."

He shot me a questioning glance.

I decided it was time to change the subject. Practicing my psychoanalysis on Wults wasn't something I wanted to make a habit of. "So, how are we getting out of the fortress?"

"Through a passage Euralysia showed me when we first arrived here."

"She showed you how to get out?"

"Of course. But the passage doesn't just lead out. It also leads to the bedchambers of certain members of elven royalty. She knew it would come in handy." He winked.

I tried not to think of why it might come in handy.

We caught up to Heidel. A stone wall, slick with slime, blocked our path. I felt magic emanating from it and recognized it immediately as Euralysia's spell.

Kull pressed his hand to the wall, whispered an elven word, and it disappeared. A dark, narrow corridor appeared where the wall had been. A chill wind gusted from the tunnel.

He and his sister walked into the passageway. I shouldered my pack, thought of Jeremiah, remembered the promise I'd made to Shawna, and followed them inside.

Kull removed a lantern from the wall and ignited the flame. The light illuminated the walls and floor in a pool of amber. Smells of dampness entered my nostrils. Slime slicked the bottoms of my shoes as we walked.

He stopped at an intersection. Several tunnels branched away from us. He pointed to the passageway straight ahead. "This one leads outside the city."

"How do you know?" Heidel asked.

"Trust me."

"Do you have a map?"

"I don't need one."

Heidel placed her hands on her hips. "You'll get us lost, just like always."

"I've never gotten us lost."

"You have—"

"I'll follow," I spoke up. "I'm sure he knows where we're going."

Kull shot his sister a smug look. "At least someone trusts my judgment."

Heidel followed, though she didn't seem appeased.

As we walked, I couldn't stop thinking about my father. It must have been hard for him to acknowledge me in front of the other elves. When we'd visited in the past, he'd always come alone to my home in the sky king's mountain. I couldn't think of a time when we'd met in front of his peers, though he'd promised to introduce me from time to time.

I wondered how badly I'd damaged his image. He must have been relieved that I'd chosen to stay with the Wults. If we ever met again, I'd make it a point to meet somewhere in private, away from the city.

A stray beam of moonlight drifted through a grate in the ceiling. Kull paused and stared overhead. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the whooshing sounds made from the light-rail carriages. A brief burst of golden light overpowered the moonlight and then disappeared.

"We've made it to the light-rails," Kull said. He placed his pack on the ground.

"So soon?" I asked.

"I told you we wouldn't get lost."

Heidel glared at him as he inspected the grate overhead. It didn't look much different from a drainage grate, although images of delicate ivy vines wrought in gold covered the iron bars. Elves. They had to be artistic even when creating sewage coverings.

Kull opened his pack and pulled out a rope. "Heidel, let me lift you."

Heidel's expression didn't change. "No."

"You want to be stuck down here?" he asked.

"You aren't touching me."

Kull sighed. "Olive, how about you?"

"Lift me?" I stared at the grate. Twelve feet up, at least. What made him think I would be able to reach it?

"You'll just have to push the cover off and climb through. Tie this rope to whatever looks secure up there, and then we'll follow."

"I don't know."

"I won't drop you. Trust me."

"All right. I'll try."

I took the rope from him and hoped he knew what he was doing as he grabbed my waist and lifted me up. As he inched me toward the grate, I reached for it.

"A little higher," I called.

A gust of warm wind brushed my face the higher he raised me. I should have been frightened. Heights had never been my thing. But the gentle strength from his hands around my waist kept me at ease. His nickname of Thor Skullsplitter had been presumptuous. It made me wonder if he really had beaten that jagamoor with his hands tied behind his back. When his hands cupped my butt and he lifted me higher, it made me wonder other things as well.

"Can you reach it?" he asked.

"Not yet. Just a few more inches."

The glow from the light-rails illuminated the grate. Cold metal chilled my fingers as I grabbed a metal bar. I pushed. Tried again. It gave an inch. I pushed harder, and the grate moved aside with a screeching sound.

"Got it."

"Can you climb out?"

"I'll try." I reached for the lip of the opening. Dirt and grime crusted my fingernails as I grabbed for something to hold on to.

Kull lifted me higher. I grabbed a handful of grass, threaded my fingers through the roots, and pulled myself out of the tunnel. The smell of fresh air washed over me, and the whooshing of carriages from the light-rails buzzed through my ears.

Glancing around, I tried to get my bearings. I stood near a tree on a grassy hill overlooking the city. Golden spires reached for the nighttime sky, encircled by the city wall.

At least we'd made it out of the city.

I reached for the tree and tied the rope around the broad trunk. Luckily, it fit all the way around. "All set," I shouted as I lowered the rope into the tunnel.

Kull grabbed the rope first and hoisted himself up. As soon as he reached the top, Heidel followed. When she crawled from the opening, Kull untied the rope from the tree.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked me.

My heart fluttered as he stared at me. I'd never realized what an intense gaze the man had. I felt one part fear, another part something else. Respect, perhaps? I supposed having a reputation like his did that to people.

"No, it wasn't so bad."

He winked at his sister. "It pays to trust me."

Heidel didn't react as I'd expected. She locked her gaze on the light-rails, and her voice turned grim, as if she spoke of something she didn't care to remember. "You'll not feel so confident once we reach the Borderlands. There are creatures there that even you can't defeat, brother."

# Chapter Twelve

We approached the light-rails. Carriages whizzed past with blinding speed. Behind us, the city lit the dark sky. Glancing back, I wondered if the elves had noticed their captured prince was missing. I wondered how long Euralysia could cover for him.

Because the rails were fueled by magic, the carriages knew when a passenger needed a coach. So, we waited by the rail. Although I'd never been fond of elves or their technology, I felt impressed as I watched the light-rail hugging the countryside, dipping and rising with the curve of the land in a bright ribbon of energy.

Warm night air brushed my cheeks. Trees with silvery leaves lined the rails. They fluttered as the carriages whizzed past. Heidel leaned against a tree and stared ahead. With her eyes unfocused, she seemed lost in thought.

Kull stayed at my side. "Euralysia was taken with your skills in magic."

"Was she?"

"Yes, with your Earth magic. How long did you live in Earth Kingdom?"

The wind rustled the tree leaves, causing their glossy, silver backs to flutter in the wind. I'd forgotten how beautiful this place could be at night.

"I lived on Earth for half my life," I answered Kull, "but I was born in Faythander and raised by the sky king. He wanted me to learn the human ways, so he sent me to Earth now and then. I spent a summer in Washington when I was ten."

"Washington?"

"It's in the United States, if you know where that is."

"Is it near France?"

"Sorry, no."

"But you remembered Earth Kingdom without a memory charm?"

"Yes, because my mother is human and my father is elven." The subject of my parents always seemed to come up no matter how much I wanted to avoid it.

A soft purring echoed ahead of us. A light coach sped across the rails as if it were flying and stopped as it approached us. I didn't understand the mechanics of the light-rails. If someone explained it to me, I could probably comprehend the magical aspects, but the mechanical portion baffled me.

The carriages arrived whenever there was a need for traveling, almost with a mind of their own. I couldn't complain, though it was a bit disconcerting, knowing a mechanical/magical hybrid could read my mind.

The coach reminded me of a huge, golden bubble with windows that glowed like Japanese lanterns. Sliding doors whooshed aside without sound to reveal overstuffed couches the color of champagne lining the walls to form a semicircle.

I stepped inside, and the others followed. Soft, ambient light radiated around us. After getting situated, the doors swooshed closed and locked with a click. The coach sped forward, sensing our destination by literally reading our minds. Like I said—creepy.

Heidel focused on her brother. "We'll take this coach to the edge of the Borderlands. The light-rails stop at the boundary between the goblin lands and ours."

"Fine," Kull said, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the seat cushion. "Wake me when we're there."

"But what if we get lost? Or worse, what if the coach gets ambushed? We'll need you awake so you can save us," Heidel said with a mocking tone.

"Olive will save you, little sister. She's handier with magic than you are with the sword."

"I doubt it," I spoke up.

"Have you seen my sister with a sword, Olive? You might wonder why she has so many scars. It's from fumbling about like a cissikin learning to walk," he said.

"Cissikins hop, not walk. And he's lying," Heidel put in. "I've beaten him so many times that I've wounded his pride. I've made him shed so many tears he's embarrassed to speak of it."

Kull let out a deep belly laugh. Heidel cracked a smile. I had trouble picturing Kull crying. Although supposedly, his tears could cure any disease. Supposedly.

Outside our windows, the countryside passed by. Dark skeletons of trees obscured a sky dusted with stars. We passed a building here and there, and then we entered an open plain with nothing to see but the dark shapes of hills against the sky.

With the whirring of the carriage's magical-mechanical motor, my eyes grew heavy. My stomach twisted as my thoughts drifted to Jeremiah. How long could he last under the influence of dark magic? And even if I did manage to break the spell, would he ever be normal? Would his brain recover from that kind of trauma? Worries for my godson overrode my need for sleep.

Kull's heavy breathing filled the carriage, accompanied by the whoosh of Heidel sharpening her blade against a stone. Somehow, sleep overtook me.

When I dreamed, I regretted it...

Pulses of blinding white light flooded my vision. Jeremiah sat cross-legged on a rug with a pile of LEGOs at his feet. Trance-like, he grabbed a block and put it in place.

"Jeremiah!" I called, though I couldn't hear my own voice.

His eyes remained on the blocks, and he put another in place. A pattern emerged—a face. Dark eyes, thick lips slightly parted, a mass of tangled hair. Jeremiah's sister, Sissy.

Under the throbbing lights, a form in the distance caught my eye. It trotted back and forth on four legs. _A dog?_ Scabs peeked from patches of gray and white fur. Its yellow eyes stayed fixed on my godson.

The dog's pacing reminded me of a hungry dingo, sizing up its prey, waiting for the right opportunity to attack.

Another wave of pulsating light washed over us, and I watched the creature transform. Instead of seeing the dog, Charon now stood in the shadows. I heard his voice in my head. His words echoed with the rhythm of the pounding light.

"Deathbringer, I will come for you."

I bolted awake.

_Calming breaths_ , Albert Einstein whispered, _it was just a dream._

I had to disagree with Al on this one. That was more than just a dream.

# Chapter Thirteen

A gray sky replaced the blackness. I stared out the carriage windows frosted with tiny ice crystals. In the false morning light, a barren landscape bleached by snow stared back at me.

Pulling a cloak from one of the packs, I threaded my arms through and huddled under it. The temperature in the carriage hadn't changed, but I couldn't shake the chill from my dream. I tried to make sense of it. The pulsing light. Sissy's face in Jeremiah's blocks. The dog. Charon.

I knew Charon represented the Dreamthief, but why the dog? Did the Dreamthief appear as a dog in Jeremiah's nightmares, and as Charon in mine? It made sense that he would represent a person's worst fear, and Jeremiah had been terrified of dogs ever since he'd been bitten. But why would Jeremiah build an image of his sister's face?

Maybe Sissy knew more than I realized. I remembered that she hadn't seemed fazed when I'd shown her Faythander magic. But even if she'd been to Faythander, she wouldn't remember it. Unless she had a memory charm.

That thought troubled me. I decided that after we searched the ruins, I needed to have a talk with Sissy.

First, I had to find Jeremiah's attacker.

"You look worried," Heidel said. She leaned against the wall with her knife in her lap.

I jumped. I'd thought she was asleep. "I worry about my godson. Jeremiah's got a kind heart. He'll turn out to be a decent person if he's given a chance."

"Are you fond of children?"

"Yes." I paused. "Most of the time." Don't judge me. I babysat some holy terrors during my teenage years.

"Do you have any of your own?"

"No."

Heidel reached for her knife. From the familiar way she clutched the hilt, I suspected she'd developed a habit of it. "My sister, Eugrid, has three children. _Kull_ adores them."

"Don't you adore them?"

Her eyes didn't meet mine. "I haven't the patience for children."

With her warrior's façade and impatient tendencies, I should have believed her, but I didn't. Something seemed off with the tone of her voice, the look in her eye. I'd seen that look before. Jeremiahs' mom, Shawna, had that same look when she swore to me she was leaving her meth-addicted boyfriend before running off with him again.

If Heidel did indeed have a lover, I couldn't blame her for keeping him a secret.

"Have you ever traveled to the Borderlands?" Heidel asked me.

"A few times, though only to the outskirts. It was a long time ago."

"You're not prepared, then."

"Prepared for what?"

She didn't answer.

"You fear the Borderlands?" I asked.

"I fear nothing as long as I have my blade. But many Wults won't go near the ruins."

"Why?"

"Because of the spirits."

"The Regaymor."

She nodded.

"You believe they exist?"

Her voice grew quiet. "I know they do. I've seen one."

"When?"

She looked away without answering. "My people once made pilgrimages to the temple. They considered the portal a sacred place, filled with tremendous power."

_A portal?_ "That's right," I remembered. "Because that's where your people originally crossed over from Earth."

She nodded. "Great magic exists in those ruins."

"Then why are your people afraid to go there?"

"Years ago, a pilgrimage arrived at the ruins. They found goblins enacting a spell at the foot of the very portal that brought our people to Faythander. It is said that a Regaymor appeared from the portal. The skull spirit killed all of our people, save twelve. Their bodies are buried at the temple as a reminder of what happened. And as a warning."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"More than two decades ago."

I tried to imagine how the goblins could have conjured such a thing and came up blank. A portal leading to Earth would have only been able to produce creatures from Earth. But the skull spirit sounded like nothing I'd ever heard of—on Earth or in Faythander.

I pulled the cloak tighter. Somehow, I knew Jeremiah was in more trouble than I'd first realized. I wondered if he'd come out of this alive... if any of us would.

"We're drawing closer," Heidel said.

My seat lurched, and I grabbed the cushion so I wouldn't fall out. Our carriage screeched to a halt.

"Have we hit something?" I asked.

Heidel had her knife out before I saw her move, clutching it tightly. "Not possible. The carriages know when to stop if something blocks the rails."

"Then perhaps something is blocking the rails?"

The lights winked out. Dim morning sunlight attempted to illuminate the cabin but failed, shrouding us in darkness.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Perhaps someone else intends to board."

"Out here?"

Kull sat up. "Where are we?" he asked with a hoarse voice. "Where are the lights?"

"They went out," I said.

Kull cursed the elves. Had I been the son of an elven woman, I might have taken offense. "Why'd they go out?"

Heidel stared out the window. "Listen," she whispered. I used my elven senses to heighten my hearing. At first, I heard nothing. Then, a scraping sound, as if someone were peeling the metal from our carriage.

"Maybe we should get out and check—" I started.

An explosion rocked the carriage. My seat fell away as searing air engulfed me. Ringing filled my ears right before the world went black.

I felt the pain as soon as I woke up. My left shoulder. Possibly dislocated. Lacerated skin on my hands and face.

Someone screamed. Heidel?

I opened my eyes to find thick smoke obscuring the landscape. Hunks of metal sat atop me, and I pushed them away, wincing when I moved my arm. I sat up. Through the haze, I saw Kull's silhouette hunched over his sister.

I pulled myself out of the debris. Snow burned my raw skin, so I pulled the cloak close and kept my hands inside as I stumbled toward Kull.

Pain shot through my shoulder, and I bit my tongue to stay distracted. As I drew closer, I saw that the remains of our carriage pinned Heidel's legs. She screamed as Kull attempted to move the wreckage away.

" _Stop!_ " She grabbed his hands. "It hurts. Gods, it hurts."

"But I have to move it."

"Please, don't."

"But I _have_ to—"

I placed my hand on Kull's shoulder. He turned to me with a stoic face, though I saw fear in his eyes. "Can I try?" I asked.

He seemed to think for a moment, then nodded and stepped away.

I bent and inspected the metal. Blood streamed down Heidel's leg, and when I gently pushed the debris, she winced. She reached for Kull, and he grabbed her hands.

As I looked closer, I pushed the tattered fabric of her pants aside and saw the metal embedded in her thigh. Awfully close to the femoral. That wasn't good.

Kull must've seen the look on my face. "What's wrong?"

"It's not bad," I lied.

"It's in her life vein, isn't it?"

I swallowed. "I'm not sure. But if we remove the metal, she could bleed to death."

Kull's face paled. He squeezed his sister's hands. "Can't we do anything?" he asked me.

The pain in my shoulder clawed at my mind, making it hard for me to concentrate.

"A tourniquet," Kull suggested. He pulled a strip of fabric from his pack. I moved away as he tied the fabric around her leg just above the wound. "On three?" He looked at me.

"Yeah," I said and grabbed the metal, although I knew I wouldn't be much help with a dislocated shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked me.

I steadied my breathing. "I'm fine. Just my shoulder, but I'm fine."

He studied me. "Your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

He nodded, though he didn't seem convinced. "On three?" he repeated.

"Yes, on three."

"One, two—"

"Wait!" Heidel cut in. "There has to be... another way." She turned to me with an ashen face. "Use your magic."

"I don't think—"

She grabbed my collar. "Use your magic!"

I hesitated. I'd never been much of a healer, not for physical injuries. I could mess her up worse than she already was.

Kull glanced at me. "Can you remove the metal?"

"I can try." I tried to concentrate, but thinking through pain is never as easy as it seems. I shut my eyes and focused on the symbol for metal. An image of a mountain formed in my mind. Iron ore—the base element the carriage would have been created from.

"Hold still," I told Heidel. She nodded. I reached for the broken scrap. Magic swelled inside me. I focused on the image of the mountain, concentrating on keeping my hand steady.

Magic burst from my fingertips and into the metal. I imagined the shard disintegrating. The carriage burned under my hands, but I held steady. Seconds passed, though they felt like minutes. The metal grew hotter. Heidel gasped for air. Why wasn't the metal doing anything? It should have been a pile of ash by now.

A strange magic fog pushed against my own. I felt darkness in the magic, as if I were running my fingers through slime.

I pulled away. Shivers ran down my spine. I stared at the carriage's remains in a new light. Dark magic clung to it. The same sort of magic I'd felt in Jeremiah's dream.

"Why can't you move it?" Heidel whispered before she slumped. Her head fell into the snow.

"Heidel?" Kull cradled his sister's head. He turned to me. "What's wrong?"

"Dark magic."

Kull raised an eyebrow. "Coming from the carriage?"

I nodded. He remained silent, though I saw his hesitation. He knew this wasn't good.

"I can't remove the debris. We'll have to pull it free without magic."

Kull nodded, his face emotionless as he held his sister in his arms. I supposed he'd been through this sort of thing before. But it still seemed strange that he remained so calm. Perhaps he wasn't. Maybe he'd learned to put on a brave face.

He rested his sister's head on the snow and moved to the carriage's remains, gripping the metal on both sides. I stumbled upright and grabbed it with him.

Kull nodded to me, and we strained against the debris. My shoulder screamed with pain as I wrestled the metal free from Heidel's leg. We pulled. Then we tried again. When the carriage finally pulled free with a jolt, Kull tossed the piece away and knelt by his sister.

The metallic scent of blood pervaded the air. Dark crimson liquid pooled from the wound, indicating trauma to the vein. As I knelt beside her, I felt grateful that the blood only trickled free. We still had time.

"Do you have an extra shirt or something?"

He didn't move. It seemed that if he did, he'd break his composure. "In my pack," he said after a pause. He grabbed his bag and pulled out a dark, tweed-like sweater. It didn't seem terribly absorbent, but it would be good enough. I took it from him.

Pushing the shirt to Heidel's leg, I felt Kull's hand cover mine. "You'll have to apply more pressure," he said. His grip tightened. I watched a tiny spot of blood seep through the layers of fabric. Holding my breath, I knew it wouldn't be enough. We needed a hospital. She needed blood.

Although I didn't have much practice with healing spells, I knew I had to at least try. I inhaled, exhaled, and then closed my eyes.

"Forge," I whispered. An image of a blacksmith's furnace and kiln appeared in my mind. A piece of white-hot metal, representing the scab I would create, rested on the hearth. I imagined holding a hammer as I began to pound the metal.

My mind's image of the metal began to cool, and I pounded it with more intensity. Sweat beaded my forehead. I had to try harder. Heat radiated from my hands into the wound. I pounded a piece of cold metal, but still I persisted.

When I heard Heidel stir, I opened my eyes.

She stared at the sky, looking disoriented. "My leg hurts."

I pulled the shirt off her wound. A thin scab of dark blood covered the gash. She'd be okay. I exhaled.

"You healed her," Kull said to me.

"Yes. I got lucky."

Sitting up, Heidel stared at Kull's shirt soaked with her blood, then turned to the torn remnants of carriage. "We should go," she said.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You've lost a lot of blood, and—"

"We should go," she repeated. "Now."

"Not until you can walk," Kull said.

Heidel ground her teeth and caught Kull's hand. She pulled herself into a sitting position, then limped upright until she stood. A strained smile stretched across her face. She took a tiny step. "Looks like I can."

"You're a fool, Heidel."

"Then I must be related to you."

Kull stood and wrapped a cloak around his sister. "The Borderlands are nearly an hour away. You'll never make it."

"I will." The steely determination in her voice kept Kull from arguing.

Kull turned his gaze to the light-rails. Thick smoke curled from the charred metal.

I could feel the magic from where I stood. Dark magic, but something else, too. I recognized the spell. Only a few races used it.

"How did this happen?" he asked.

"Hard to say. But someone spellcasted that carriage. A rending spell—not many creatures possess that sort of magic."

Heidel looked at me. "Goblin magic?"

I glanced at Kull. "Or elf."

He raised an eyebrow. "Elf?"

"It's hard to say for sure."

"You think elves did this to their own carriage?"

"I'm not sure."

Kull scratched his beard.

"Why would someone want to harm us?" Heidel asked.

"There are Wults who consider this place sacred to outsiders. They could have tried to stop us," Kull offered.

"But Wults wouldn't have used magic. The elves may have found out that Kull was missing," I said.

"No," Kull said. "Even if they had found out, they wouldn't have tried to kill us."

Heidel shot her brother a questioning glance. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

Wind howled past as I pulled a pair of gloves out of my pack. The wool warmed my hands a little, but my fingers still felt numb. "We should get moving."

"The elves will hear about this," Kull said. "Those cursed carriages are supposed to be the safest way to travel."

Our boots sank into the snow as we walked alongside the rail. After what had happened, I didn't think any of us were anxious to climb inside another carriage.

The light-rails ended at the foot of the mountains. Just across that range lay goblin country. I could feel it, even if I couldn't see it. Not many people had traveled through those wastelands. With all the research I'd done on goblins, I realized one thing—we knew next to nothing about them. They were secretive, clannish, and didn't welcome outsiders.

Kull pointed at an opening in the base of a mountain. "The caves our ancestors came through. Crossing through them should not take long. The temple ruins are on the other side of those mountains."

With a gust of frigid air in our faces, we headed for the caves. I kept my hands in my pockets. Even with my gloves, I feared I'd get frostbite if I took them out.

My ears stung in the freezing wind. Snowflakes stuck to my eyelashes. I focused on the black dot at the bottom of the mountain. With each step, we drew closer.

My toes felt frozen to my shoes as we neared the caves. Its mouth rose overhead, black against a white landscape. We climbed a steep incline to reach the entrance.

Below us, the light-rail shimmered, a barely discernible swath of gold. Far in the distance, the remains of our carriage marred the white snowfields like a cancer spot. Smoke rose into the sky. Whoever had destroyed our carriage wanted us dead. That thought stayed with me as I turned away to enter the cave.

# Chapter Fourteen

The ice cave's warm air surprised me. My frozen fingers began to thaw, and I removed my cloak. Water trickled somewhere, with an echo that came to us like a drumbeat. After the rift of Earth and Faythander, evolution had changed more than just the species inhabiting each world.

Magic had transformed Faythander from a world like Earth into a world alien to humans. The ice caves were evidence of it. The walls sparkled, humming with magic trapped beneath. They shone crystalline blue. Bursts of magical energy sparked like lightning through the walls, warming the air while managing to keep the walls frozen.

Kull and Heidel removed their cloaks. Heidel grasped her knife, its blade glowing blue in the sparking magic.

"Be cautious," she said in hushed tones. "These caverns will be quick enough to pass through, but they are filled with magic."

A thin layer of sand coated the floor. Our boots made little sound as we walked, the magical bursts lighting our path. The cave grew wider and taller until our footsteps echoed through an immense chamber.

Heidel kept her knife close.

The trickle of water grew louder. Stalagmites and stalactites rose from the ground and grew from the ceilings, some of them taller than Kull. Blue crystals, like those in Fan'twar's chamber, grew like sentinels guarding our path.

Our footsteps echoed off the walls. Heidel's gaze grew sharper under the light. Kull's face remained calm, though the light made his chiseled features more pronounced.

For once, Kull and Heidel didn't argue. They didn't even talk. But I didn't blame them. We didn't need the attention. If something dangerous lurked in these caverns, talking would draw it to us more quickly.

The tunnel dropped at a steep angle. As we descended, a huge lake came into view, and the rhythmic sound of waves filled the still air. Turquoise water lapped at a shore of silver sand. Though the magical glow lit the water, it didn't shine far enough to illuminate the far shore. The preserved wooden husks of several Viking ships lay on the near bank. Rusted breastplates and helms littered the area around the vessels.

"Brimlake," Heidel whispered. "These are the sacred waters our first ancestors found when they crossed into Faythander. The other shore lies in Earth Kingdom."

"Amazing," I answered, speaking softly.

Kull pointed to a tunnel down shore. "We'll follow the lake out of the cave. It should lead us to the temple."

My shoes sank into the sand as I followed the Wults along the water's edge. Rippling waves lapped at the shore as I peered across the lake. It looked so beautiful, but I couldn't push away the feeling that something dark lurked here. The uneasy feeling grew until I felt my skin break out in a cold sweat, as if something sensed my magic. I tried to focus on anything but the lake.

Heidel's black blade glinted off the water. I watched the steady, back-and-forth motion of her braid, but still, the feeling wouldn't relent.

This was magic I'd encountered only a few times before—the first time in my bathroom mirror, the next in Jeremiah's bedroom, and most recently, I'd felt it in the wreckage of our light carriage. I knew what Faythander magic felt like, and this was _not_ Faythander magic.

We hiked past the ancient ships. They seemed undisturbed by time. I stared in fascination at the dragon-carved maidenhead, the long rows of oars, and the tall mast where a sail would have caught the wind.

Once we passed the ships, I expected to find an exit that led away from the lake, but the underground waterway was larger than I'd first thought. The lake continued on, as vast as an ocean. We followed it with the ships at our backs, the only reminder of the Vikings' crossing.

Kull stopped. He unsheathed his sword. "What is that?"

I peered in the direction he indicated. An altar sat far in the distance. A form hovered near it, black and without shape, like a puff of smoke. Heidel's knife reflected the lake water as we stepped closer.

The smoke took shape. What once looked insubstantial now seemed to have a head and shoulders. It drifted around the altar. The air around it turned gray, as if it sucked the light from the room.

Fear sped my heart. The feeling of other-magic came strongly now. I sensed it in that creature—whatever it was. As we drew closer, its shape disintegrated. Red pinprick eyes lingered before it disappeared completely. When we reached the altar, the magic faded.

Heidel ran her hand over the worn stone.

"What was that creature?" Kull asked, his voice quiet. "I've never seen such a thing."

"I haven't either," I said. "A being like that shouldn't exist here. There's no record of spirits with that amount of dark energy, here or on Earth. It doesn't make sense."

"Could it have crossed from the Brimlake?" Kull asked me.

"I don't see how. The Brimlake leads to Earth."

Heidel peered across the lake. "It was a Regaymor."

I eyed her.

"Its presence was meant as a warning," she said softly. "We must leave this place."

Kull nodded toward the far wall. An alcove rested under a ledge of broken shale. "We're close. Let's keep going."

We moved away from the lake. Sharp rocks replaced the sand, and our shoes crunched over the uneven ground.

I tried to focus on anything but the pain throbbing in my shoulder. I knew I could only hold out for so long, but I didn't want to slow us down.

We entered a tunnel that led away from the lake. Kull ducked under the low ceiling. In this part of the cavern, fairy toadstools grew along the floor and walls. Lit by magic, they glowed bright blue, adding light to our path. After a while, the chill returned, and we put on our cloaks.

"Almost there," Heidel said as she threaded her arms through her cloak's sleeves.

Wind whistled ahead. A steep path led us upward. Gray sunlight seeped inside, casting pale light over patches of snow glistening on the cave's floor.

I pulled my cloak closer as we neared the cave's mouth. A blanket of snow crunched underfoot as we climbed to the top. We stepped outside the cave and discovered a broad, snow-covered plain stretching as far as we could see. Gray pillars pocked the white monotony.

My heart sped up. This was the place I'd seen in Jeremiah's dream.

"The Borderlands," Heidel said. "We've arrived."

A scanty gathering of clouds marred the piercing blue sky. The sunlight reflected off the snow. I shielded my eyes to get a better look at the stones. They resembled the pillars of Stonehenge, though they were arranged in a haphazard formation, as if they had been tossed from the sky and landed where they now stood.

Wind blustered past, bringing with it flurries of snowflakes that bit at my exposed skin. We started down the hill with the wind at our backs. It howled in our ears. I pulled my hood closer, but the piercing wind only sounded louder, eerily similar to the wail of a lost soul.

# Chapter Fifteen

We entered the stone circle. Heidel held her blade with a firm grip, though I noticed a tremor in her hand. The tales of death and evil spirits were hard to ignore as we walked through the pillars.

Kull followed his sister, his blade shining bright silver against the backdrop of snow. The wind howled louder through the stones, so I pulled my hood low over my face, but it did little to lessen the chill.

"What are we looking for?" Kull called over the wind.

I wasn't sure. I'd seen my godson's dreamsoul here, but that had been in a vision. With my mortal eyes, I wasn't sure what to look for or where to look. The place seemed deserted, but I knew that magic could easily be concealing him. "Search for anything unusual. Magical talismans, unusual tracks, anything. If my godson is here, I need to know."

"I'll check the far side," Kull said. "Heidel, you take the stones to the north. Stay within earshot of one another. If you see anything strange, don't confront it. Regroup, and we'll take it together," Kull said.

"I agree," I said.

We went our separate ways.

Snow crunched underfoot as I made my way through the labyrinth of monoliths. A strange eeriness clung to the ancient stones. The wind quieted. The air held a fragile stillness. I inspected each stone, looking for any clues to my godson's whereabouts.

As the sun rose higher, I began to doubt my purpose here. I'd circled the area several times and had found nothing. What if Jeremiah weren't here? What would I do? I had nowhere else to look.

No. I had seen him here. I knew this was the right place. Perhaps I needed to focus on something else.

I scanned the area again, this time searching for a pattern in the stones' arrangement. I'd presumed there was none, but as I peered closer, I started to see it.

Five tall stones surrounded the rest, and the tallest of all sat at the center. It wasn't hard to make out the pattern now that I knew what to look for. They formed six points, making the creation appear to be the mjölnir —Thor's sacred hammer.

If I'd read my history books right, the stone in the center would be the most powerful. I walked to where I estimated the center of the arranged pillars would be. I approached a stone twice the height of Kull.

Runes were etched into the wind-worn surface—Viking runes. Some were too careworn to make out, but others looked well preserved. I removed my gloves. The stone chilled my hands as I ran my fingers over the rough surface.

Kull approached me. "I've seen nothing out of the ordinary. Have you?"

"I might have found something."

Heidel joined us at the stone.

I pointed to the runes and then replaced my gloves. "Do you recognize any of these symbols?"

"These are old markings from the days of the first crossing," he said. "We don't use this language anymore."

"Can you read it?"

He pointed at an _X_ shaped symbol at the top edge of the stone. "This is the symbol for gift. And this," he moved to an ∑, "means reunite. Or perhaps destroy."

Heidel raised an eyebrow. "Reunite _or_ destroy? The two words are completely different. How are we to tell which is correct? You should have paid better attention in your studies."

"You are correct, sister. But remind me, did you ever pass the ancient languages trial?"

She sniffed and looked away. "Ancient languages bore me."

Kull turned back to the stone, a smug smile on his face. "There's more. These three symbols together may represent a phrase or a single word. But I'm not sure what it means. Palace or beleaguer. But that makes no sense either."

"So the first word is gift, and the second is destroy or reunite. The third word must make sense with the first two," I said.

"The gift of destruction," Heidel suggested. "Perhaps the third word explains the type of destruction." She studied the stone. My breath came out in white puffs as I watched Heidel examine the runes.

"I think this may tell us how the spirit killed them," Heidel answered. She pointed to an _M_ shaped rune. "What is this symbol?"

"Blight," Kull answered. "Or plague."

"And this one?" she asked.

"Beneath."

"And this?" I pointed to a pair of symbols in the center of the stone.

Kull didn't answer for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. "Regaymor."

The wind picked up, whistling with fury through the barren stones.

Heidel backed away from the stone. "It's an entrance to the catacombs."

"Are you sure?" Kull asked.

She nodded. "Our first ancestors built extensive catacombs beneath this temple. Hundreds are buried beneath."

"Should we remove it and look inside?" I asked.

Both warriors stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

"You believe your godson's soul to be in the catacombs?" Kull asked.

"He isn't up here. It would be the logical place to search next."

"Are you sure?" Heidel asked. "You've seen the inscription on the stone. You must realize what lies beneath. Plague and death. The reason we shouldn't be here in the first place."

"But I have to at least look. It's the only chance I have to find him."

"And kill us in the process?" she asked.

Kull rested a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Our ancestors will protect us. That and Bloodbane." He unsheathed his sword. His smile would have seemed charming if it weren't for the glint of madness in his eyes. "I say we should go."

"And risk ending up like our ancestors?"

"We've faced worse."

Heidel squared her shoulders. "No. We've never faced anything like this. This isn't some beast you can slaughter. This is magic—the darkest kind. We should leave and count ourselves lucky."

Kull cocked an eyebrow. "Is that fear I detect in your voice?"

"It's reason. An attribute you've yet to possess."

"I disagree."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Heidel answered.

"Perhaps you could stay here," I interrupted. "We'll need someone to keep watch."

Heidel worked her jaw back and forth. "Fine. I will wait for you here."

"Are you sure?" Kull asked. "You will be alone and exposed. It may be safer to come with us."

"No. I will not enter the tombs."

"Very well," Kull said with a sigh, as if he were used to dealing with his sister's stubbornness. He turned his attention to the stone. "And now to find our way inside."

I studied the runes and determined that some of the characters could be a written spell. Most spellcasters never wrote down their spells for fear they could be used against them. But in this case, they may have needed a way to get inside and carved the characters into the stone. It was my best guess, anyway. "It may be spellcasted," I told him. "I may be able to use a spell and open a gateway or—"

Kull placed his hands on either side of the stone, and his cheeks turned red as he pushed it aside. The grating sound echoed through the ancient pillars, loud enough to wake the dead entombed underground.

"Or you could just push it," I finished.

A dark, cavernous hole lay beneath, with a ladder stretching to the bottom. Swirls of fog wrapped the metal rungs. Kull replaced his sword in its scabbard and started down the ladder.

Heidel turned to me as her brother descended. "Be cautious," she said. "There are not many places that our people fear, but the tombs are an exception. There is a reason why we do not travel here. Be cautious."

I nodded. "I will."

I followed Kull down the ladder and into the tunnel. My shoulder gave me trouble, but I found that if I climbed without fully extending my arm, I could manage to hold on. The deeper I descended, the less chill there was in the air. I would have felt grateful for the temperature change if I weren't in complete darkness. The pinprick of light overhead wasn't enough to illuminate the ground beneath.

"Are you there?" I called to Kull.

"Right below you. I think I've found some torches."

The blackness disoriented me. The ladder's rungs were my only link to reality. Below me could have been an abyss, and I would've never known it. I called on my other senses to make up for my loss of vision. The sound of booted feet on the metal rungs. My fingers grasping the cold metal. The pain throbbing through my shoulder.

A sputtering sound came from below. Flickering orange light glowed beneath me, and soon I descended to the tunnel's floor.

Kull held two torches and gave one to me. " _We've made it_ ," he called up the shaft.

"Very well." Heidel's voice sounded miles away.

As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I took in my surroundings. The thin air smelled of dust. A broad corridor lined with black stone stretched before us. Tombs rested inside niches in the rock. Elaborate images of skeletons and winged angels with hollowed-out eyes stared from the wall carvings.

Kull started down the hallway, and I followed. He pointed at the runes engraved in the walls. "This is odd," he told me. "These markings are written in the modern language."

"Modern language? How could that be possible?"

Our footsteps filled the silence as he searched for an answer. "The souls who perished here only two decades ago may have been buried in these catacombs."

"The souls who were slain by the Regaymor?"

"Yes. It is possible that these tombs were in use only two decades ago. The modern language is proof of it."

"Then let's keep moving. I suspect that whoever has taken my godson's soul will be in hiding. We should inspect the older tombs."

"Agreed."

The tombs stretched on. I stared in fascination at the elaborate carvings. This was artistry untouched by nature. The history of the Wult belief system sprawled before us like an open encyclopedia. The further we walked, the more the new gods gave way to the old. The image of the sacred mjölnir—Thor's hammer—became more prevalent with each tomb we passed.

We entered an open chamber with a domed ceiling. Thick pillars lined the outer edges of the room. Firelight from our torches sputtered and flickered, making the pillars cast long shadows across the floor.

Several arched doorways surrounded the room.

"Where should we go from here?" I asked.

Kull walked around the room, inspecting the runes carved above the stone archways. "These are family names, I believe—some of the first families who crossed. Gunter, Brudnik, Mog."

"I don't suppose any of them say where my godson's attacker is hiding?"

"Afraid not."

I paced around the room, praying I would find something that might lead me to him. "We'll have to check them all. How far do you think these tunnels go?" I asked him.

"I cannot say." He turned to me. "But it doesn't look as if anyone has been in these parts of the catacombs for a very long time. I am not sure what you're looking for, but I have followed tracks since I was old enough to walk. If someone had been down here recently, we would have seen footprints." He scuffed his boot. "This dust is thick enough to leave marks."

I chewed on my lip, hoping Kull was wrong. "We aren't dealing with the type you're used to hunting. Spellcasters can erase tracks. Still, we should find evidence of a presence here. Something is down here. Something led me to my godson."

He nodded. "We'll meet in this chamber after we've searched the corridors."

"Agreed."

Kull exited through one of the doorways. As he left, the feeling of being alone sank in. Fear sped my heart. I clenched the torch tightly to keep my hands steady.

_Stay calm,_ Albert Einstein said.

I tried to push away thoughts of the Dreamthief. But in the darkness, walking among the tombs of the dead, the dark magic pulsed even stronger.

I walked into a tunnel. The eyes of the carved angels and skeletons seemed to follow me as I passed by them. This passageway felt narrower than the others. The walls pressed against me.

Inhaling the stale air became a chore the deeper I went, so I focused on my task.

_Find Jeremiah. Find his captor. Bring him home._

Tombs rose on either side of me like hulking, living things. I searched each one. Dust covered their gray granite surfaces.

I paused. A blank brick wall marked the end of the tunnel. I'd found nothing—no footprints, no signs of spellcasting, no intruders. But I still felt sure that Jeremiah's captors had been down here. Why else would I have seen the vision of Jeremiah sitting in the temple ruins?

Either they'd never been down here, or they were very good at hiding.

With quiet footsteps, I walked out of the tunnel. A halo of orange firelight came into view as I entered the circular foyer. Kull waited for me. He stood near a pillar with his torch in hand. "I found nothing. Did you?" His voice echoed through the empty room.

"No."

"There is one tunnel I have not checked." He nodded toward the passageway marked _Mog_. I stepped toward it, though Kull didn't move. His torch cast shadows under his eyes as he stared at the tunnel.

"Are you coming?" I asked.

He hesitated. "I am not sure if we should enter. Some say the family was cursed."

"Cursed how?"

"There is a record of the Mog family that many remember, perhaps because they were not well liked. They had many enemies. Some of the family members were killed in a particularly gruesome manner, though no one could find the one responsible. In those early days after the crossing, our ancestors built their homes along the ocean's shore, so it was most convenient to bury the dead in the sea. But some believed the spirits of the Mog family were restless. In the end, they created these tunnels and buried the bodies down here."

"So these tunnels were first created for the Mog family?"

"Yes, though it did little good. The few souls who have traveled to this place in more modern times claim to hear their voices. Their footsteps still echo, and their apparitions appear in that passageway."

"Do you believe in such things?"

"I cannot say."

"Are they dangerous?"

He hesitated. I couldn't read his face as he stared with apprehension down the hallway. "There are rumors of bodies being found in those chambers. What is odd is that the bodies were slaughtered in the same manner as the original murdered family members—half mutilated, with their eyes cut out and their lips sewn shut with black thread."

A chill crept down my spine. "They died the same way?"

He nodded. "Some say that the spirits of the Mog family seek revenge."

A nervous knot formed in my stomach as I peered down the dark hallway. Was it worth risking our lives? "Then perhaps we should search somewhere else."

He shook his head. "No, there is nowhere else. Besides, the stories are only rumors. And I've brought my broadsword. We will be safe enough."

Kull and his broadsword. Would he ever shut up about it? What could a broadsword do against a spirit?

He turned, and I followed him into the Mog chambers. Thin ribbons of fog appeared along the floor. As the mist touched my skin, its dampness made me shudder. Where did the fog come from? There was little moisture down here to create it. Was it some form of gas released by the decomposing bodies? Surely not. The souls in this part of the chamber had been dead for hundreds of years.

The tunnel stretched farther than the previous ones. The mist muffled our footsteps and made the silence seem oppressive. I felt grateful when Kull started a conversation.

"You don't seem as frightened of this place as most people."

I mulled over his statement. "That may be true. But I didn't grow up hearing the stories."

"Even without the stories, most people would hesitate before entering a crypt. Don't you fear death?"

He had to mention death in a place like this. I glanced at him, remembering the stories I'd heard of him. "I've heard that you do not fear death. Is it true?" I asked him.

"Of course not. Any man would be a fool not to fear death."

"Let me guess, that's why you're still alive?"

"No. I am alive because the gods allow it. I should have died long ago." He shifted his broadsword. The tunnel turned to the right, and we followed it as the mist thickened around us. The runes above the tombs had been etched off. Only an empty scar remained where the symbols had been.

"You have good instincts," he went on. "You show bravery in a fight." He glanced at my shoulder. "But you hide your pain from others, and you hide your fear."

"How do you know what I fear?"

"Because I am a warrior. I've trained my entire life to find my enemies' weaknesses."

"Does this mean you've found my weaknesses?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

This conversation was starting to grate on my nerves. "I'm glad I'm so easy to read, just like anyone else you've ever battled."

"No." He stopped walking. "You are not the same."

Firelight flickered on the golden strands of his hair. His eyes exuded an intelligent intensity, as if he were staring inside me, trying to see how I ticked. _Good luck, buddy. Even I don't know how my head works._

"Has the sky king ever mentioned anything about your powers?"

"Of course. He trained me."

"And don't you find it odd that he should take such an interest in you?"

"I suppose he felt sorry for me."

"No, I don't believe so."

"Then why do _you_ think he trained me?"

He hesitated. "I do not know," he replied as he walked ahead.

I stared after him. What a strange conversation. I followed him, but the mists gathered so thickly that I couldn't see the firelight from his torch or hear his footsteps. I walked faster, but a blank wall of fog blocked my view of the tunnel ahead.

"Kull?" I called. My shout sounded more like a whisper in the mist. "Are you there?"

I strained to hear an answer but heard none, as if he'd disappeared.

I took a cautious step forward. "Kull?" I called again, my voice echoing this time. Once again, the darkness enveloped me.

Completely blind, I felt along the wall while debating whether or not to use a spell for light, but down here, using magic seemed like a horribly flawed idea—even for me.

"Kull—" My toe snagged on something, and I almost hit the ground. A human form broke my fall. My elbows landed on his chest. In the mist, I only saw a little of the beard and forehead. Kull. He lay on the ground with his eyes closed, completely motionless. The still-sputtering torch lay next to him, and I grabbed it.

I knelt beside Kull to search for signs of life. Shallow breaths exhaled from his mouth. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. What had happened to him? I hadn't heard him fall. He hadn't called for help. I hadn't seen him. It was as if he'd disappeared.

I searched his face and saw his eyelids twitching.

_They'd had their eyes cut out_.

Cold chills broke out over my skin. Footsteps came from behind me. I rounded, and my heart stopped.

Red eyes peered from a black, shapeless form.

_I am here_ , it whispered in my head.

The mist coiled and swirled in eddies around the phantasm. It licked at my exposed hands with a bone-numbing frostiness.

Kull stirred beside me.

The mist suddenly retreated. I stared into the empty passageway, my heart beating so frantically I feared it might break through my chest.

Kull groaned. I knelt beside him as his eyelids fluttered open. "Olive?" he whispered.

"I'm right here."

"What—what happened?"

He attempted to sit up. When he moved his arm, I saw an object in his hands that made me gasp.

It looked almost like mine, except it was woven from black string around a loom of the same color. Dark magic poured out of it.

A dream catcher.

# Chapter Sixteen

"Drop it." I tried to keep my voice level.

Kull stared at the dream catcher, then let it fall to the floor. It landed with a soft thump. "What is it?" he asked.

I used the hem of my cloak to pick it up. My breath caught in my throat. The dark magic flowing from the loom felt palpable, as if it were drawing the breath from my lungs. Whoever had created the spell had been a powerful practitioner.

"Where did you find this?" I asked.

He rubbed his temples. "I don't remember. I was walking toward that tomb. I saw something...." He shook his head.

I looked at the tomb he'd pointed to. Like the others, the runes inscribed in the stone had been scratched out, although the scarring on this tomb looked deeper, as if someone had used a pickaxe to completely remove the name.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"A dream. Very strange." Firelight cast his face in bronze. "A dream I had as a child. I saw my sister. And a goblin. He took her." He looked away.

My stomach squirmed. I'd heard the stories of what goblins did to women, to children. Kull's worst childhood fear had come back to haunt him, just as Charon had come back for me, and the dog in Jeremiah's dream. These were our greatest fears come to life.

"Kull, I know this isn't easy, but do you remember anything else?"

He paused before speaking. His eyes looked distant, as if he remembered something from long ago. "The goblin said that my sister belonged to him. He would twist her soul. Make her evil like him. And then he said there would be nothing I could do to stop him. I'd forgotten the dream until now."

Even with my cloak covering the dream catcher, I felt its power licking at my fingers.

"What sort of magic recreates nightmares?" he asked me.

"I don't know." If I'd dared to touch the woven loom, I could possibly detect the spell and recognize the spellcaster. But I had safer ways of discovering its secrets. I'd just have to get back to Earth to do it.

Kull rubbed his eyes as if trying to erase the images of the nightmare. "Do you think whoever has your godson is using such a spell on him?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Who would do such a thing to a child?"

I shook my head. "Someone desperate."

"Or evil."

Kull glanced at the tomb with the gouged-out runes. "I remember finding the loom near that tomb."

We walked toward the tomb when my toe stubbed something. I glanced down to see a heap of chains. Holding the torch close, I knelt, inspecting the chains.

"You found something?" Kull asked, kneeling beside me.

"Yes, I think so." The chains looked like something I could've purchased in a hardware store from Earth, which seemed odd given our current location. Kull held the torch as I picked them up. A pair of manacles dangled from the bottom.

Small manacles, the size that would fit around a child's wrists.

My heart dropped.

"My godson was down here," I said.

"It appears so." Kull fingered the manacles. "But where is he now?"

The metal loops clanked as I placed them back where I'd found them. I stood, searching the area. Kull did the same, though we found no further evidence of my godson's existence in the tombs.

"Your godson's presence here must have something to do with these tombs. His captors must have brought him down here for a reason. Perhaps if we learn that, we'll understand where he is now," Kull said, once again returning to the tomb where he had found the dream catcher. He handed the torch back to me.

I held the light close to the vault. The torchlight illuminated the hole where the runes had been. Images of hunched-over humans with fearful faces had been carved below the gouged names.

"Any idea who was buried here?" I asked.

"Whoever it was, someone went to great trouble to erase their identity."

"A disgraced member of the Mog family, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Look at these carvings; they aren't like the others." He pointed at the engraved humanoid forms.

"Disfigured humans. Who would carve such a thing into their loved one's burial site?"

"No, not humans." He took the torch from me. With the light closer to the carvings, I recognized the images for what they really were. The hollow eye sockets, the sunken cheeks, the incisors too large and pointed like fangs, and the thin, forked tongues snaking from parted lips.

I took a step back. "Goblins."

Kull knit his brow in confusion.

"Your people hate goblins. Why would they carve this?"

"I don't understand. It makes no sense. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

The fire sputtered. "I do not understand it. Look here." He pointed above us, where the image of a Viking ship had been carved. A crowd of people filled the ship's deck, but on the shore stood a goblin. Kull shook his head. "This makes little sense."

I looked from the carving to the gouged-out names. The answer lay right before us. "Kull, who's buried in these tombs?"

"The Mog family—I've already told you."

"Are you certain?"

The firelight reflected the fear in his eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

I nodded at the tomb. "We need to look inside."

"That would be a waste of our time. The remains would be too decayed to identify."

"But someone went to great trouble to etch the names off. They wanted the identity of whoever lay in these tombs to remain hidden."

He worked his jaw back and forth as if debating what to do. "I suppose you are right. Take this while I remove the lid." I took the torch from him.

He maneuvered the coffin out of the hollowed rock far enough to tip it from the alcove. With a grating of stone against stone, he leveraged it onto the ground. We knelt beside it as a cloud of dust billowed. Kull slid the lid aside.

A black shroud lay atop the corpse. I held the torchlight close to get a better look. With careful hands, Kull removed the covering. Under the torch's flame, what remained of the skull came into view. Yellowed fangs curved from the skull's upper jaw. Small bits of frayed, black thread wound around the corpse's incisors, keeping the mouth tightly shut.

I took a step back.

Kull cursed. "Goblins."

"Why are goblins buried in the Wult tombs?"

He shook his head. "And why the black thread?"

"Perhaps someone wanted to keep the corpse's identity a secret. The black thread would have kept the fangs hidden until the lips decomposed."

"If it is true, if the goblins have taken the tombs, then we must leave. They may have already ambushed my sister," Kull said. "We must make haste."

We raced out of the tunnel. The caverns blurred past. Blood hammered my eardrums as I focused on the next turn, the next corridor. The hallways seemed immeasurably longer than I remembered.

My lungs screamed for air as we reached the ladder, though with the added adrenaline, my pain disappeared as we climbed.

Sunlight pierced my eyes as we climbed higher. I grabbed the top rung and pulled myself out of the opening. Icy wind stung my cheeks. Kull stood next to me, scanning the area with the look of a predator.

A cloud of gray mist shrouded the courtyard. The silence pressed against my eardrums. As I took a step forward, my footfalls made no sound over the ice-packed earth. Smoky fog twisted around the stone pillars. Magic tingled in the mist as it touched my skin.

Kull took a step forward, and I stopped him. "It might be a spell," I said. "The mist is hiding something. Be careful."

He pulled his sword free, though I doubted it would be any help against magic like this. "Heidel?" he called. The mist muffled his voice.

Sounds of shuffling feet echoed behind the pillar across from us. We walked quietly toward it. I wanted to use my magic, but I sensed that doing so would only draw our intruders closer.

As we neared the pillar, a gory scene came into view. A goblin's head lay on the ground, its brains oozing from the split-open skull. The thing's eyes had been gouged out, and the empty sockets stared at the coiling mist of gray fog. The lips had been torn away, or perhaps cut off, revealing rows of serrated fangs.

Kull's jaw tightened as he poked the skull. He lifted a torn strip of hide from the beast's forehead. Grayish brain matter seeped from the broken skull. "This was a deliberate act, meant to send us a message. They want us to come after them."

"But who? And who would've known we would be here?"

_The Dreamthief knew._ This was feeling more like a trap than a rescue mission.

I stepped around the blood to reach the other side of the stone column.

Something moved. In the haze I couldn't see much, a bit of gray-colored leg, a hunched over body. Sounds of clicking came from somewhere.

I spun around but saw nothing but mist. It crowded around me, closing in, squeezing air from my lungs.

"Olive?" Kull's voice drifted through the fog.

"Over here."

The blade of his sword cut through mist as he made his way toward me. "I found a trail of blood back there. Not much, but it might lead to whoever's out there. If they've harmed my sister, they'll regret it." He peered around the ruins like a hawk searching for prey.

I followed him to the trail of blood. Tiny droplets marred the ice-white snow. The path of blood led away from the ruins and toward the mountains. Toward the goblin lands.

"Goblins," I said. "I think I saw one back there. They've desecrated the tombs. Now they've taken your sister."

"But why? Goblins have never challenged us before."

I feared the answer to his question. If the goblins awoke Theht, what would happen to my godson?

A hiss echoed behind us. First, a low moan, and then dozens of voices joined in. I spun around but saw nothing.

"Show yourselves," Kull shouted.

The hisses grew into a wail. Kull's grip tightened on his sword. My magic itched to be set free. I flexed my fingers. With the dream catcher in my pocket, I wasn't sure magic would be my best weapon. The dark magic could mingle with my own, creating a disaster I dared not contemplate. I grabbed my knife instead. Magic would be my last option.

"Aim for the neck," Kull whispered, "Their hides are too thick to stab anywhere else."

I nodded, wishing I'd trained more in combat and less in magic. I felt as though I were fighting with a blindfold over my eyes.

"Their skin excretions are acidic. Don't touch them directly unless you want your fingers burned off."

_Right. Aim for the neck. Don't touch the skin. What lovely creatures we've stumbled on._

A muffled human voice joined the wails. "Help!"

"Heidel?" Kull called out.

I took deep, steady breaths, but it didn't help my shaking hands.

A pair of milky white eyes came into view. In the mist, the goblin's body looked ghostly and translucent, pale gray against mist of the same color. Sinewy muscles corded its hunched frame. Had it been standing tall, it would've been a head taller than Kull. Its black, snakelike tongue flicked from its mouth.

A tart stench pierced through the air like vinegar and rotting eggs. Fear threatened to overwhelm me as more goblins appeared from the mist.

"Heidel," Kull called. "Where are you?"

"I'm here."

His chest rose and fell.

Dozens of forms emerged. I tried to swallow my fear, though I felt death nearer than ever before, as if Charon waited among the crowd of goblin warriors.

The creatures gathered like a plague of locusts, swarming in a mass of stinking bodies and leathery skin. A goblin lunged at Kull, teeth bared, and Kull spun his broadsword. The blade connected with precision. In a blink, the goblin's head fell to the ground with a thud.

I'd never seen a person move so fast. He'd described himself as a killer. Now I knew why.

His fight became a dance of death. I didn't think it possible that someone so muscled could move with such grace. Kull's sword blended into his body like an extension of his arm. More bodies than I could count fell around him. I stood with my knife ready, but none of the goblins had a chance to attack me.

I'd started to think of Kull as human, had started to think the legends about him were bogus. Now I wondered if I knew him at all. This surely wasn't the same person I'd traveled here with.

Sounds of ripping skin and sputtering blood filled my ears. A goblin broke away from the rest. Dark blood covered his torso, and he loped toward me with jerky movements. His milky white eyes seemed unfocused as he leapt for me.

Sinking my dagger into his neck seemed an easy job, though as I stabbed at him, his tongue flicked along my exposed wrist. Fire burned my skin, and I dropped my dagger as red blisters formed along my wrist. My flesh blackened as the acid sank deeper. I pushed the pain away as best as I could as the goblin lunged for me again.

I grabbed my dagger and stumbled back.

Skin hung in tattered flaps from its neck where I'd cut it. I thrust my knife at the exposed wound, but the creature darted back.

Kull made this look so easy. I couldn't even bring down a wounded one.

I gripped my knife's hilt. _I can do this._

The goblin lunged again.

I let him come. At the last second, I sidestepped back, then dove for his neck and sank my knife deep into his exposed muscles. Warm blood gushed from the wound. I pushed the knife deeper until I felt it connect with bone.

The goblin fell with a gut-wrenching scream, writhing at my feet. I stared in fascinated horror as its lifeblood soaked into the ice-crusted earth.

When I stepped away, silence filled the air.

A pile of bodies surrounded Kull. I had expected blood to coat him, but only a few smears stained his hands and cheeks. He stepped out of the pile and walked toward me.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"Just my wrist. You?"

He smiled a wolfish grin. "Never felt better."

Behind him, a cloud of black matter appeared. Piercing red eyes stared from the semi-formed, skeletal face. My scream caught in my throat as the figure lashed out. Dark magic erupted like a whip and caught Kull in the back.

His knees buckled as pain contorted his face. The whip lashed at Kull again.

I reacted with magic. I knew using my magic was risky, but I also knew that creature would kill Kull if I didn't.

_"Banish."_ I whispered the word for a spell that should have sent the creature to the farthest wasteland on the planet. Instead, dark magic flooded from the dream catcher. Its presence overwhelmed mine, mingling with my spell. An enormous headache flooded my brain. Blood clouded my vision, and my knees smacked the ground hard. It was the last thing I remembered.

# Chapter Seventeen

My first thoughts were of the bitter cold. I tried to sit up, but my muscles refused to cooperate. Ice crystals stuck to my eyes as I opened them. I tasted snowflakes on my tongue, and the air stung my lungs as I breathed it in.

I lay on a bed of snow. A blue, cloudless sky spanned overhead. I wiggled my fingers, then my toes, hoping I would feel them soon.

As I sat up, I tried to get my bearings.

A barren expanse surrounded me.

I concentrated on remembering the last couple of hours. Images tumbled through my head in a jumbled haze. The temple ruins. The goblin tombs. The ambush. And the black fog. It had tried to kill Kull.

I'd used a banishing spell, but the dream catcher had mingled with my own magic. Had the dream catcher's magic banished me as well?

I tasted bile as I stood. Pain shot through my joints with my first step forward. I needed to find Kull. And Heidel, assuming they were still alive.

But where was I?

The temple ruins and mountains were gone. Was I in goblin country?

I knew they had been involved in Jeremiah's capture. I knew they must've conjured the Dreamthief and taken my godson. I also knew they must be working with the Regaymor. What the creatures actually were, I had no clue.

As I stumbled through the snow, I tried to keep my eyes on the sun sinking toward the horizon. Assuming I was in goblin country, I needed to head south. Back to the sky king. And home.

I needed to tell the sky king that the goblins had invaded the Wult tombs. That they had my godson's dreamsoul.

But where had they taken him? And how could I find him?

Frost bit my fingertips. I kept my hands under my cloak, but as the wind gusted past, the cold pierced through the thick animal hide.

The sun sank deeper toward the horizon, growing bloated and orange. I knew I wouldn't survive the night without shelter.

My boots crunched over the snow-packed ground, and my breathing sounded loud in my ears. I worked my fingers open and shut to keep the blood flowing.

Something made me trip. After regaining my balance, I stood straight and found a hint of animal-hide cloak peeking from the snow.

Kull.

He stirred and opened his eyes. Dried blood matted his hair and forehead. I knelt beside him. "Olive," he managed in a hoarse whisper.

"This is the second time I've found you passed out."

A hint of a smile crossed his face. "Where are we?"

Wind howled past, making it hard for me to hear my own reply. "Goblin lands, I think. Can you walk?"

Using my good arm, I tried to help him stand, but he hesitated. "Heidel?"

I shook my head. "I haven't seen her."

Fear flashed through his eyes. "We must find her."

"We need shelter first."

As he sat up, he stared at the snow-encrusted landscape. I knew what he was thinking. No caves, no forests, no villages of any kind. We had little chance of survival.

"Come on," I said and helped him up. He rose slowly, and I noticed a gash of black blood drying on his neck. I leaned in to inspect it.

He drew back. "What are you doing?"

"That wound was made by dark magic. You need a healer."

"No time."

"But you could die."

He limped away from me. "Looks like I'm not far from that anyway."

"Where are you going?"

He pointed to a steep rise. "There. We'll follow the foothills. With luck, we'll find the mountains soon."

I shouldered my pack with numb fingers and followed him. My boots slipped over an icy crust of snow. Kull caught me before I fell. We trudged on, my breath coming out in labored gasps as we started up the steep rise. The hill seemed to go on forever. My toes turned numb in my shoes. I stubbed them more times than I could count but felt nothing. That was a bad sign.

I focused on the path ahead of me. Darkness came swiftly, and soon I strained to see anything. After a while, a large moon rose above us, casting its silver hue over the ice and snow banks. We traded one hill for another, trudging on with the moon as our only light.

_Maybe we should stop_ , I thought. _Please, let's just rest for a moment_. But I held my tongue, although it took every ounce of energy to keep moving forward.

We crested another hill, and I paused. My mouth gaped.

We stood over a valley. Below, a forest spread before us, the trees forming dark silhouettes against the star-flecked sky.

Kull stopped behind me, and it was only then that I realized I'd been ahead of him, which surprised me.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I am well," he said after a pause. He rubbed his neck. Although I couldn't see it, I knew that wound was slowly killing him.

"Are you sure? Let me use a healing spell—"

"I am well," he said, though he didn't move forward.

I took his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you," I said. "Don't argue."

He didn't, which surprised me. For Kull to accept help meant he must've been worse off than I'd realized.

The forest loomed ahead. We stumbled through the snow until finally making it inside the thick cover of trees. I stepped onto a carpet of pine needles. The air warmed, and I inhaled the familiar scent of pine boughs similar to those on Earth. The canopy insulated us from the biting cold, though the frozen feeling wouldn't leave my toes and fingers.

Kull stumbled, almost falling. I caught him, took his arm, and wrapped it around my neck, letting some of his weight rest on me. My dislocated shoulder tensed, and pain shot through my arm. I wasn't sure how long I could hold him.

Our footsteps sounded loud in my ears. Twigs snapped underfoot. My shoulder screamed with pain, but the cold kept me from focusing on it.

The scent of wood smoke made me pause. Pinpricks of orange light glowed ahead. Campfires? I prayed I wasn't hallucinating.

I moved forward with Kull leaning against me. "Kull?" I asked.

He mumbled something—a yes, maybe?

"I think we might've found a camp close by," I said.

"Camp?"

"Yes, straight ahead. Stay with me."

He stumbled, but I managed to keep him upright. The lights began to take shape—I spotted several campfires now—and the scent of wood smoke grew stronger. I heard shouting, and soon, a man appeared from the edge of the encampment. He wore a fur cloak over his leather tunic and breeches. There was a wild look about him, his hair long and braided, gold earrings in his ears and nose.

He moved in front of us, his eyes on Kull.

"Stop," he said. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"My name is Olive," I answered. "My companion and I are lost. We seek shelter."

The man pulled a spear from his back. He took a step toward Kull. "What is wrong with him?"

"He's been infected. Please, we need a fire and food. Can you help us?"

He raised an eyebrow, and that's when I noticed his pointed ears. Was he an elf? I'd never seen an elf with a stocky frame or wearing clothes such as his. "Do you have any weapons?"

"Yes. Only a knife. In my boot."

"What about him?" He pointed the spear at Kull. The warrior slouched against me, though I managed to stay upright.

"His broadsword."

"That's all?"

"That's all he needs."

The man whistled. Several archers appeared behind him, all wearing similar clothes to his. "Take their weapons. Escort them into camp. They shall be our guests." He smiled, a leering grin that made me question whether we were to be his guests or his prisoners.

After the men removed our blades, we followed them through the darkness of the trees. I felt grateful that Kull was too sedated to argue. Blood would have been shed before anyone touched his broadsword.

# Chapter Eighteen

Prickly needles scraped past my arms as we crossed through the trees and entered the open dale. Firelight lit our path through a mismatched assortment of patched tents. A girl came forward, not much older than me. She wore leather breeches and a buckskin cloak that partially hid her stocky frame. Under her long curls of dark hair, I couldn't tell if her ears were pointed, though if I'd seen her on the street, I would have never pegged her as an elf.

"I am called Arantha." She didn't look at me when she spoke. "I am the healer, or as close as one gets to a healer in this camp," she sighed. "I shall take you to my tent. Follow me."

We weaved through the tents. Several men stood around, looking at us—or perhaps Kull—with narrowed eyes.

We reached a tent that sat away from the others. She pulled back the frayed animal-skin door, and I walked through with Kull leaning against me. Arantha helped me move him to a cot.

A few candles sat on tables around the room, illuminating the rugs and pillows that filled the floor. The tent had a pleasant, herbal smell of lavender and lemongrass. A wooden table sat to the side with a washbasin atop it. Potions crowded one another on a larger table near the back of the room. Behind it, I saw a tent flap, which I assumed led to another chamber. A stone fire pit occupied the center, and a thin, curling wisp of smoke rose from the glowing coals and through a hole in the tent's roof.

Arantha stood beside us. "What is his malady?" she asked me.

I wasn't sure how much I should tell her. To say that he'd been inflicted with dark magic might scare her away. "He was attacked by a creature. I don't know what to call it, but it injured him. I fear magic is involved." I tilted Kull's head to reveal the black gash.

She focused on the wound, her eyes narrow, and then knelt beside him. Gently, she touched the gash. It wriggled. She gasped, then took a step back. "I've never seen such a thing."

"Nor have I."

"You've no idea what the creature was?"

"No."

"Then I'm afraid I shall not be of much help. I can give him a draught for the healing of poisons, but it may only ease the pain." She rifled through glass vials. It was odd to see so many potions in one place. Most races found potions useless compared with the possibilities magic possessed.

Handing me a vial, she said, "Let him rest. I shall bring food. I'm sorry, but there's not much more I can do. Our resources are limited as it is."

"I understand."

She nodded and then moved toward the door.

"Arantha," I said, stopping her. "If you don't mind my asking—who are you? What are you and your people doing out here?"

She shook her head, her back turned to me. "It is not my place to say," she replied, and exited through the tent's door.

I stared after her, confused at her behavior. Perhaps they were pillagers or thieves of some kind, though why they chose to make camp in goblin country baffled me.

I placed the vial on a table and then propped a few more pillows under Kull's head. My fingers, once frozen, had begun to thaw with the sensation of pins and needles stabbing through my skin. I worked my hands open and closed, trying to get the blood flowing again.

Kull's eyes opened halfway. His breathing was loud and rattled in his chest. He coughed and then tried to sit up. I pushed him back down.

"Where am I?" he growled.

"We've found a camp."

"Whose camp?"

Good question. I didn't know whether to call them elves or humans or Wults. Perhaps a blend of all three? Still shaking from the cold, I pulled several blankets off the floor and wrapped them around Kull, then around me.

"Whose camp are we in?" Kull repeated.

"We're safe," I answered. It was the only explanation I had.

His eyelids fluttered, and he grabbed my hand as I tucked a blanket around him, his fingers stronger than I expected given his current state.

"Heidel?" he asked.

"I haven't seen her."

He stared at me a moment longer through half-lucid eyes. I took his face in my hands and tilted it to the side. His chin's stubble brushed my fingertips as I inspected his wound.

The black gash ran from the bottom of his jaw toward his spine and disappeared down his back. I didn't know how deep it ran or how long it stretched. I grabbed the vial and unstopped the cork.

"What is that?" Kull asked, focusing on the liquid.

"It's supposed to help with poisonings."

"For me?"

"Yes."

"I do not trust it."

I stared at the amber liquid inside the glass.

"I'm afraid we have no other choice. I don't trust my magic right now, and you'll die soon if you're left untreated. I have to do something."

His eyes had closed again. I don't think he heard me. Inhaling a deep breath, I took one last look at the liquid and then held it to his lips. I prayed it wouldn't kill him.

The fluid filled his mouth. He coughed, then swallowed, his eyes still closed. I sat back, watching him, hoping I hadn't made a horrible mistake.

The coals crackled behind me. I pulled my blankets tight around my shoulders. For the first time in a very long while, my body stopped shaking, and I closed my eyes.

"Olive."

My whispered name awoke me. I opened my eyes, focusing on the tent overhead and on Kull crouched over me. Had I been asleep? I didn't even remember drifting off.

The scent of roasted vegetables and seared meat filled the room. My stomach growled as I propped onto my elbows. My wounded shoulder ached in protest. I winced, hoping Kull hadn't noticed.

Kull passed me a plate of sizzling food. A green root plant, hearts of palmetto, red florets, and a slab of some sort of meat that resembled pork filled the platter. I grabbed up one of the roots and popped it into my mouth.

The vegetables had been cooked with enough seasoning to give them a savory flavor. I had the insane urge to eat everything all at once but paced myself. How long had it been since I'd eaten an actual meal?

I looked up at Kull. "How do you feel?" I asked him.

"My mind feels like my own again," Kull said as he watched me eat. "We are very fortunate to have found these nomads. Otherwise, I'm certain I would not have made it."

"Yes, fortunate."

He crossed his arms. "Yet I cannot help but wonder how we came across them when we did. What are they doing in these wilds? None travel here unless they mean to hide."

"I wondered the same thing. So far, I haven't been given a straight answer." I took another bite, realizing I'd almost eaten it all. So much for pacing myself.

I glanced at Kull. The black gash was still visible on his neck. His paled skin and the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead worried me.

"You are still unwell," I told him.

He crossed his arms. "As are you."

I rubbed my shoulder. "Yes, a little."

"A little? You should let the healer look at your shoulder."

"Perhaps."

A soft rustling came from the tent's opening, interrupting our conversation. Arantha walked inside. She halted before entering farther, her eyes guarded as she peered at Kull.

"You are well?" she asked.

He straightened to his full height. Arantha shied away. "I am," he answered.

She nodded. "I've come to deliver a summons from Geth, our leader. He desires your presence in his tent. If you'll follow me." She parted the tent's opening.

Kull and I traded wary glances before following Arantha outside. A chill breeze gusted past as we crossed through the rows of tents. A few men and women remained outside, huddled around campfires or sharpening spears. I didn't like the suspicious glances they gave me.

We stopped in front of a tent that stood taller than the rest. The dark red canvas looked thicker and sturdier than the material covering the other dwellings. Arantha led us inside.

The heavy scent of burning incense, accompanied by a fog of smoke, lingered in the air. Arantha pointed us toward a set of wooden stools near a bookshelf. I took a seat, though Kull remained standing.

A roughly hewn, wooden desk took up the back half of the room. Beyond it was another tent flap, which I again assumed led to a separate chamber.

"Geth will be with you shortly. Shall I fetch some tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you," I answered.

"How long will this take?" Kull asked. "I am not in the habit of waiting. Does your leader know who I am?"

Arantha swallowed. "He only wishes to meet you. He will arrive as soon as he can."

Kull crossed his arms. "For your sake, I hope he does."

Arantha cleared her throat. "If you'll excuse me." She ducked into the room behind the desk.

Kull rubbed his neck as the curtain closed behind her. "They'd better be planning to return my sword. Otherwise, this meeting will be over very quickly."

I focused on the bookshelf beside me. "And if they don't?"

"Then they will regret it."

"You plan to threaten them?"

"If that is what it takes."

"Not everyone responds to threats, you know. Sometimes it is better to be polite."

He laughed. "I believe I am the one who gave _you_ that advice not long ago. Besides, I have no need of using such a tactic."

"Spoken like a true Wult," I mumbled as I scanned the books.

I pulled a book from the shelf, _Science and_ _Experimentation in the Realm of Magic_ , and flipped through the pages. It didn't hold my interest. I scanned the others. Most were on politics or science, a few wartime strategy books. The aroma of the incense made my eyes feel heavy, my head foggy. I hated the cold, yet I felt tempted to step outside so I could take a breath of fresh air.

Kull paced the room until I felt he would wear a hole through the rug. "They are taking their time on purpose."

"You've no proof of that."

"They mean to challenge me. This is a show of their authority."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You do not believe so?" he asked me.

"I think you're taking it a little far."

He worked his jaw back and forth. "I will not tolerate this. If their leader wishes to speak with me, inform him that he can find me inside the healer's tent." He left without another word.

I sat in silence, wishing Geth would appear. Perhaps I should have followed Kull back to the tent, but I was curious to meet Geth and see what he wanted from us—and to thank him for taking us in.

With nothing else to do, I once again scanned the books. Focusing on the bottom shelf, I noticed one I hadn't seen before. _When Dreams Cometh_. LM Peerling.

I gasped.

I knew my stepfather didn't own a copy of this book, which said something. As far as I knew, the book didn't exist anymore. Yet here it was.

I snatched it off the shelf, leafed through the pages, and stopped on one that caught my eye.

_The power of a dream, especially in the mind of a human child, is more potent than any other species. Human children have the ability to recollect past lives, reexamine the course of the present, and even peer into the future. Because humans underestimate the power of the imagination, they are limited in their ability to harness this force of nature._

_History could be rewritten, the future explored, and the depths of space and of the undiscovered corners of the mind could be unlocked._

_The greatest power of all, the ability to encounter new worlds of existence, could be discovered with this single ability to dream._

I heard footsteps outside and stuffed the book under my jacket. My mind swam with information. _New worlds of existence?_ What had the author meant by that? It seemed an odd choice of words. I had to read more. The key to saving my godson could very well be in this book.

Kull stuck his head in the tent. "Would you ask if these people have seen my sister?"

"Why don't you?"

"And demand the return of my weapon."

"Kull—"

"Thank you, Olive." He left without another word. I rubbed my throbbing shoulder, wishing I'd found someone else as my traveling companion.

The tent's fabric rustled behind the desk, and a man entered the room. My heart rate spiked. I wished Kull would come back, even with his brainless remarks and cockiness. I wished I didn't have to be alone with this man.

Geth, I assumed, strode toward me. He wore the same clothing as the rest of the nomads, his dark fur cloak covering a leather tunic and breeches, though I noticed his muscled frame made the clothing stretch tight. His skin looked tanned and careworn, although he appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Gold earrings shone from his nose and ears—the same pointed ears as the rest of the group. His hand rested casually on a bone-hilted knife at his waist.

Geth's eyes were what made me fearful. They were hate filled. He looked as though he held a grudge against me, though I had no clue how I'd offended him.

He stopped inches away from me.

_Should I stand?_ I felt as though he expected me to bow or kiss his knuckles or something. Instead I sat petrified.

"Where is the Wult?" he demanded.

"Gone," I said, finding my voice. "He is still unwell and thought it best to return to the healer's tent."

"To rest?"

"Yes."

Geth laughed. He moved back and leaned against his desk, arms folded. "I wasn't aware that Wult warriors needed rest. He must be less of a fighter than I realized."

I didn't know how to respond.

"My healer tells me the Wult has been inflicted with a strange malady."

"Yes."

"A black wound that seems to move beneath his skin."

I nodded.

"I have heard of such a thing. The illness is caused by a creature of dark magic. I encountered the being not long ago. Your friend is lucky to be alive."

"Do you know what the creature is?"

"I've never heard its name, but I know this." He leaned forward. "These lands are not safe. The dark creatures, though dangerous, are not the only threats to us. My men claim to have seen a Dreamwalker. They saw its true form—a woman, possibly elf or human, who used her spells to disguise her identity and capture her victims in their dreams."

Until now, I'd assumed the Dreamthief to be a spirit, perhaps even a Regaymor. For the creature to be an actual person came as a surprise. "The Dreamwalker is a person?"

"Yes. The creatures that afflicted your Wult friend follow this person, this Dreamwalker, the spellcaster woman."

"Where did they see the Dreamwalker?"

"Near the Wultland's border."

"Are they certain it was a mortal person?"

"Yes. And you," he waved his hand at me, "are female. Human, or elf? Both, perhaps?" He leaned forward. "How is it that you discovered us?"

_What should I tell him?_ I wasn't sure who he was, and I certainly didn't think it wise to trust him. I was certain he didn't trust me. "I am a traveler from Earth Kingdom. I wished to tour Faythander and employed the Wult as my guide. I'd hoped to see the Wult Mountains, though my guide got us lost and we found our way here."

He lifted an eyebrow. "He got you lost?"

I nodded.

Geth rubbed his chin. "I see. Then our meeting is merely a coincidence?"

"Yes."

"We don't get many visitors in these lands. You must understand that I find it quite odd to find you here, in these unforgiving lands, without food or shelter."

He was toying with me, trying to find my real purpose for traveling to the goblin lands, but I refused to tell him more than necessary. It was time to turn the tables. "One could ask the same of you—why would a group of people choose the goblin lands as their home unless they needed somewhere to hide?"

He barked a laugh and then circled behind his desk. "We've got our reasons, ones I will not divulge to you. But tell me," he leaned forward, knuckles pressed to the table, "have you seen this Dreamwalker?"

I crossed my arms. "I haven't."

"You are sure about this?"

I nodded.

His glare deepened. He didn't believe me, but he didn't press the issue further. "Will you stay long? Or can we expect you to leave shortly?"

I stood, meeting his gaze. "We will leave as soon as our injuries are healed."

"Then, for your _health_ , I hope you heal quickly."

I couldn't mistake the hostility in his voice. He turned and left the same way he'd entered. I watched him go, fear making my heart beat wildly. I took a step toward the opening and exited the tent, the book still tucked inside my coat.

# Chapter Nineteen

Walking quickly, I hoped to make it through the camp as soon as I could. Only a few people remained outside. They gave me unfriendly glares as I found the healer's tent.

I stepped inside to find Kull sitting in front of the coals with his eyes closed. His hair was damp, and he wore a clean white peasant's shirt with ties in the front and leather breeches. I knelt beside him and felt his forehead. Burning hot.

I tried to inspect his wound, but his shirt collar hid the injury, only giving me a view of the black mark along his neck. Puffy red skin bordered the gash. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Arantha prepared a bath," he said, "and she brought clothes." He pointed to the room beyond the potion's table.

"Kull," I said, "when will you let me look at that wound?"

"Not here."

"Why?"

He shook his head.

"You'll die if you don't—"

"I'm fine."

"You are not. You don't understand how dangerous dark magic can be. I hardly understand it, either, but I know what it can do to a person. To their mind." _And to my godson._

"We'll make it to the Wultlands tomorrow. The healers will cure the malady once we arrive."

"What makes you sure we'll find the Wultlands?"

"We will," he said.

"You'll never make it. You'll be dead tomorrow if you don't let me look at it."

"You lecture worse than Heidel."

"Someone should."

"Ha!" He flashed me his teeth. "All right. I'll let you tend to my wound as soon as you tend to yours. I've had experience with injuries such as yours. You would be wise to let me repair it."

Pain throbbed through my shoulder. I took a deep breath, knowing full well what I would be submitting myself to if I agreed. "If I let you, will you allow me to heal you?"

"Yes."

My heart rate quickened as I imagined his hands on my shoulder, his body close to mine. I pushed those thoughts away. "Agreed. But I bathe first." I headed for the other room when Kull stopped me.

"My sister?" he asked.

"Sorry, I never got a chance to ask. Geth was a bit brusque, to put it lightly."

Kull cursed quietly. "I will find her. I will do whatever it takes to bring her back."

"I understand."

He nodded. The embers' light cast his face in deep bronze, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. I saw the tiredness, the sadness. It made me want to go to him, to comfort him, even with his callous attitude and overconfidence.

There was more to Kull that what appeared on the outside. He cared for his sister—that was obvious. He would do anything to protect her, to keep her safe.

Focusing on the damp blond hair that fell to his shoulders, his penetrating blue eyes, and his muscled torso, my heart fluttered, so I turned away.

I parted the curtain and entered the bathing chamber. This room was smaller than the first, although it also had a bed of coals flickering in a stone fire pit. A wooden bucket sat on a table with a sponge and a yellowed bar of soap beside it, and a stack of clothing sat on the floor beside a wooden stool.

I sighed. It was a humble situation, but it was better than nothing.

After sitting on the stool, I pulled off my boots. My socks stuck to my skin, and I had to peel them off. Pain shot through my shoulder as I removed my shirt. I finished undressing and tucked Peerling's book under my clothes, hoping Geth didn't come looking for it. I'd have to return the book as soon as I learned something useful. I kept the dream catcher tucked inside my coat.

As I sponged off, the water felt warmer than I'd expected. I washed my face, my neck, and my breasts, starting to feel female again. I carefully smoothed the sponge over my shoulder, cringing as I touched it. Kull had offered to look at my shoulder. Maybe I shouldn't let him. He would probably make it worse.

Butterflies fluttered inside my stomach as my thoughts turned to Kull. I had to admit, he _was_ attractive—in a brutish, masculine way. He was also devoted to his family—to the death, if need be. In a way, his devotion to his family surprised me. I knew Wult warriors were considered weak if they put familial responsibilities over their warrior duties. His tenderness to his family was uncommon in a man of his status.

I plunged the sponge into the water, wondering what was wrong with me. I shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. I had a boyfriend, for goodness' sake. Although in truth, I hadn't thought about Brent once since I'd left Earth.

I'd never had any luck in the relationship department. Brent kept me around because no one else would, but I'd never felt anything for him, not really. Not the way I felt for Kull.

_Kull._

Why couldn't I get him out of my head? He was engaged, for goodness's sake. And I was pretty sure I annoyed him way more than I attracted him.

It didn't matter anyway. He would marry Euralysia, and I would go back to Earth. We could part ways as mutual acquaintances and never see one another again. And then I wouldn't have to think about him anymore.

The thought brought a little joy, but it also made me feel as if I had a huge, gaping hole in the pit of my stomach. I had to get over this. He didn't want me. I couldn't have him, wasn't even sure I wanted him. End of story.

I replaced the sponge and eyed the stack of clothing. I didn't see a towel, so I dried off with a thick blanket and dressed in the white linen shirt and leather breeches with damp skin, which was a more difficult chore than I'd anticipated.

The shirt clung to my chest, and I realized that it did little to hide my black bra. So much for propriety. I grabbed up my soiled clothes—Peerling's book and my dream catcher hidden inside them—and walked back into the main chamber. Feeling self-conscious, I kept the clothing close to my chest. Kull still sat by the fire. I turned my back to him as I placed my clothing on a table. Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms over my breasts and then knelt beside him.

He was looking at me. Not just looking, but staring—a primordial stare that exuded want and desire. I felt completely exposed, naked.

He turned away from me. Then, I noticed his eyes were rimmed in red and abnormally bright, the look of a raging fever. I placed my hand on his forehead. His skin scorched mine, hotter than it had been only a few minutes ago. "You're getting worse."

He turned to me. In his eyes, I saw the fever raging and knew his previous glance had meant nothing. He'd been feverish and nothing more. I'd mistaken a fever for lust.

I exhaled, tried to rearrange my brain chemistry as best I could, and pulled away from him. "You have to let me heal you."

He shook his head. "Not until I take a look at your shoulder."

"You're in no shape to—"

He pressed a finger to my lips. "My turn first," he whispered in a voice that sounded husky and seductive and made my previous vow to control my brain chemistry nearly impossible.

"All right," was all I could manage.

He pulled my sleeve down low enough to expose my shoulder. I pressed my fists into my lap, my palms slick with sweat, and hoped he couldn't hear my pounding heart.

Kull slid his finger under my bra strap, then lowered it off my shoulder. He placed his hands on my skin, right below my shoulder blade. I would have winced, but I found his hands warm and surprisingly gentle.

"Slightly dislocated. Not bad. But you should have taken care of it sooner."

I couldn't make my mouth work to answer.

He put one hand against my breastbone, the other to my back. I knew this would hurt, but the feelings of his hands on my skin drove away every thought in my head except one.

"Your heart's pounding," he said.

"I'm afraid you'll hurt me," I lied.

"You shouldn't be."

He moved his hand along my shoulder, working his way toward my spine. I felt pressure as he bore down, but not pain. "Deep breath," he whispered.

I inhaled and heard a pop. The throbbing stopped. I had expected pain but felt none. His hands remained on me for a moment as he peered into my eyes, but I avoided his gaze.

_He's feverish_ , Bill Clinton reminded me.

Kull moved away, and finally, I turned to him. "How did you do that? I didn't feel anything."

"Years of practice."

"No, I still should have felt something. You have a talent for healing. Magic, even."

His grin was subtle. "Not all healing requires magic."

Maybe. Maybe not. "It's my turn. Take off your shirt." I tried to sound as stoic as possible.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Please," I added.

"So forward. I like that." He untied the strings at his collar and pulled off his shirt.

I tried not to notice Kull's naked torso, but the sight of him made my heart almost pound out of my chest. Sweat slicked my palms. I felt dizzy, light-headed, and shamefully wonderful. Was I swooning? I hadn't swooned since my mom had taken me to that boy-band concert when I was fourteen. What was wrong with me?

He saw me looking at him. I expected some sort of smart remark about how all women had the same reaction I was having, but he kept his mouth shut.

I focused on the scar running along his neck and tried to ignore the way the fire reflected off his carved chest and shoulders. Tried to.

The wound ran from his neck down his back. The black gash slashed down his back muscles as if he'd been cut with a butcher's knife and branched out, vein-like. I touched it gently, and the wound writhed.

I held my hand over the gash, letting its magic flow inside me. I searched for signs of goblin magic but found none. The foreign enchantment tingled through my fingers and into my arms, my abdomen, making my stomach turn. I knew this magic, but barely. The Regaymor's magic.

Whatever the Regaymor were, they didn't use magic from this realm or from Earth. They were creatures of darkness, a taint that sucked life away slowly, that infected the mind as well as the body, controlling it, overpowering it. I cursed under my breath. This was worse than I'd thought.

"Can you remove it?" Kull asked.

I hesitated. "I'm not sure."

He turned to me, his eyes bright with fever, and took my hand. The warmth of his fingers reassured me. "I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

"But I do."

I exhaled, focusing on the wound. Kull sounded sincere. He shouldn't have. "Why?" I asked.

"Because you're a fighter. You're strong in battle, but even stronger in magic. You have talents that some would kill for. You could make the world kneel at your feet if you realized your own power." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger before he pulled away. His voice softened. "And because you're beautiful."

_Beautiful?_

"And you're delirious."

"Perhaps." He blinked once, slowly, as if trying to remain conscious.

"You should lie down."

"Yes."

I helped him settle on the blankets, careful to rest him on his side so he wouldn't lie on the wound. He smelled of leather and sandalwood, a scent that calmed my frantic thoughts. As he closed his eyes, his breathing became labored. His cheeks matched the flames in the coal bed.

I tried to move away from him, but he caught my hand. "What I said—it's true."

"Of course."

"You don't believe me."

"Kull, half the things you said don't make sense."

"No," he argued.

I pried his hand away from mine. "Just get some rest."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Because your fever is speaking. Not you. You're in love with someone else. And I'm not any of those things you just said. I'm broken inside, and hurt, and weak, and..." I couldn't finish; I'd said too much already. I couldn't love anyone—not that way, not ever. That's why I needed Brent. I felt comfortable with him. He wouldn't break my heart the way Kull would break it if I let him.

Sitting behind him, I rested my chin in my hands. A knot formed in my throat. Part of me wanted this to be real, but mostly I felt relieved that it wasn't. When Kull's breathing turned rhythmic, I leaned closer to his wound.

I knew what to do.

He wouldn't live much longer like this, so I would take the poison into my own body. It was the only way to save him. A small, scalpel-type knife sat amidst the potions, and I removed it from the shelf.

The copper blade glimmered as I sterilized it in the fire. I waited for it to cool before making the first incision.

# Chapter Twenty

I had made only a tiny cut in Kull's skin when the magic spilled out. The greasy matter oozed from the wound, coating the blade and then my fingers. The magic left his body in a flood as it attached to my skin, crawling over my hands and arms like millions of tiny leeches.

_Good. Let it come._

As soon as the last drop of magic left his body, I concentrated on a banishing spell. The enchantment hadn't worked how I'd planned back at the tombs, but I didn't know what else to do.

Dark magic seeped into my skin. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the spell, praying it would work.

" _Banish_."

The writhing magic came to a screaming halt, but instead of dissipating like it should have, it wrapped around my arms and entered my body through the tiny pores of my skin.

I gasped as magic burned my skin. I reached for Kull but couldn't move.

" _Kull_ ," I whispered. Black spots clouded my vision. I felt the strange sensation that this was precisely where the magic wanted to be—inside _me._ In _my_ mind.

The pain began to vanish as I lost consciousness. I fought against it, but a tidal wave of blackness overtook my mind. I remembered falling, and pain as my head hit the floor. And then, I dreamed...

I stood in a desert of ash and dirty snow. Above me soared a wall of black ice. Beyond the wall rose a lighthouse made from weathered stone. A pale light pulsed from the top of the tower, though it did nothing to drive away the mist.

"Mog's Keep."

I spun around to face an overweight man wearing a green cloak. He had pockmarked cheeks and a graying beard.

"Who are you?" My voice sounded strange in the fog, as if someone else were speaking.

He flourished a mahogany cane through the air, then dipped into a shallow bow. "I am Mr. Green."

I swore I'd heard the name before. "Where are we? What are you doing here?"

"Your questions will be answered in time, although you ask the wrong ones." He took a step forward. "The question you need to ask is—where is your godson?"

"You know where he is?"

He pointed at the tower with his cane. "There."

I turned to the tower. The light pulsed, pulsed, pulsed. It was colorless, as if I were watching a black-and-white movie.

Mr. Green tapped the towering black wall with his cane. It made a tinkling sound, like delicate glass.

"The elves constructed this wall. They poured all their technology, all their power into creating it."

"Can it be brought down?"

"No."

I searched for doors or entryways but saw none. "Then how did my godson get inside that tower?"

"His dreamsoul fled there after being attacked by the Regaymor in the tombs. I'm sure he's terrified."

"How do you know that?"

"I know many things. I know the Regaymor are not from our world. I know that their kind worked with the Dreamthief, but they have rebelled and now wish to take your godson's power for themselves. I know that your godson will die unless you stop the Regaymor."

A screeching wind blew past, howling like a living thing as it dashed against the wall. "How do I know if you're telling the truth? Who are you?" I asked again.

"You know who I am," he answered.

"Are you the Dreamthief?" I knew the Dreamthief was supposed to be a woman, but anything was possible.

"No, I seek to help you."

"Why?"

"Because only you can destroy this wall. And because I know your godson. He doesn't need to be inside that tower. It's killing him."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I come from Earth, like you. You must find me there." The wind howled again. It almost drowned out his words. "And because you have no one else. Know this—do not trust anyone. Those you love will betray you."

The wind quieted. I stood alone. Mr. Green's words echoed in my mind.

_Those I love will betray me?_

I couldn't tear my gaze from the light tower. Confusion clouded my mind. Was Jeremiah really in there? Who was Mr. Green, and why did he want to help me?

I inspected the wall. My reflection shone in its glossy surface. I touched it, and cool glass brushed my fingertips.

Elven magic tugged at my senses. So, elves had created the wall. At least Mr. Green hadn't lied about that. But why did he think I could destroy it?

The lighthouse pulsed, blinding me. I stared at it, feeling a headache throb as the light pierced my eyes.

The wind howled again, but this time, I heard a voice calling from the tower. A child's voice.

Jeremiah's voice.

I knew he was up there. I wasn't sure why I felt so certain, but deep inside, I knew I'd found him.

"Hold on," I whispered.

I woke with a headache throbbing inside my skull. "Jeremiah," I gasped as the room came into focus.

Arantha and Kull leaned over me. The healer woman held a bowl with something inside that looked like tar. It smelled of chili peppers and something less appealing, like gasoline. I tried to sit up, but my vision swam with stars and I returned to the pillow.

"Rest," Arantha said and spread a spoonful of tar on my forehead. The smell made me want to vomit, though as the mixture touched my skin, the headache dissipated.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

She didn't answer. Instead, she concentrated on spooning the foul stuff on my forehead and then the back of my hands.

Kull leaned closer. His eyes had returned to their normal shade of blue, and his cheeks had lost their burning color. "You had us worried."

"You were tampering with dark magic. That's very dangerous," Arantha said as she rubbed the gunk on my cheeks. I'm sure I must have resembled a swamp creature.

"What is that stuff?" I asked.

"Poultice of wormwood. We use it to cure wounds caused by magical venoms."

"Just don't eat it," Kull said.

"I wasn't planning on it."

Kull held up something. I focused through blurry eyes and realized he held the scalpel. A spot of blood slicked the tip. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

"I was trying to heal you."

"By nearly killing yourself?"

"I'm fine."

"You weren't five minutes ago. You stopped breathing. What were you doing?"

"I thought I could take the magic into my own body and destroy it. It didn't work how I'd planned."

Arantha slathered the goop on my neck, and I pushed her hand away. "Thanks, but I'm feeling much better now."

I sat up, and this time I didn't feel like fainting.

"Next time, you must warn me before tampering with dark magic," Arantha said. "There are better ways to deal with it."

"I'll remember." How did she know anything about dark magic in the first place?

Arantha stood and walked to the tent's flap. "I shall return in the morning. I think it would be best for everyone if you leave first thing tomorrow." She pulled the canvas aside and exited the tent.

Kull handed me a blanket. I pulled the soft fabric close, still feeling a chill from the dream.

"You saw your godson?" Kull asked.

"Yes. How did you know?"

"You said his name right after you woke up."

"Oh yes, I suppose I did. Kull, I think I've found him. There was this light tower, and an enchanted wall surrounding it. I have to figure out where it is."

"Enchanted wall?"

"Yes, with elven magic."

"It could be in Laurentia."

"No, it looked barren. And I saw ash on the ground."

"Goblin lands."

I nodded.

He exhaled a sigh. "We could search forever."

I found it odd that he said 'we.'

"Maybe not. There was a man there. He called himself Mr. Green, from Earth. If I can find him, he might help me."

"Do you trust him?"

"I'm not sure. But I'm certain Jeremiah was in that tower."

Kull's jaw tightened. "Sounds risky."

"I agree. But what other choice do I have?"

He didn't have an answer. The coals shimmered and crackled, sending sparks flying into the air. When I turned back to Kull, he looked at me with a half-grin.

"Why are you smiling?"

He took a blanket and wiped the goop off my face. "I miss your freckles."

"You're hilarious."

Kull leaned back and placed his hands under his head. "I don't like any of this. An elven wall in goblin lands shouldn't exist. Goblins in the Wult tombs shouldn't exist. Something is off, and I plan to find out what after I kill the bastards who took my sister."

"I'm sure Heidel is safe." I was lying, of course, but a lie seemed like an appropriate response in this situation.

"Yes, I'm sure she is."

His eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, yet careworn at the same time.

"Arantha is right. We must leave first thing in the morning."

I laid back, not too close to him, my head resting on a pillow. As I closed my eyes, I saw the light tower with its flickering pulses that pounded through my skull.

Kull leaned closer, the warmth of his body close to mine.

I fell asleep to the sounds of the crackling fire and the calming scent of sandalwood. As my mind drifted off, I heard Mr. Green's words in my head.

_Those you love will betray you._

I awoke to the sound of rustling clothing. My eyes opened. I stared through the hole in the tent's ceiling. False gray light brought little illumination to the tent. I stared around the dark room, trying to find the source of the noise.

Arantha stood by the tent's flap.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Geth wanted you to leave as soon as possible. I'm only helping you get your things in order. I shall be back shortly." She gave me a curt nod and then left the tent, her arms filled with bundles of cloth.

Although I'd had several hours of sleep, my head throbbed. I rubbed my temples as I turned to Kull, who rested with his face turned away from me.

With careful hands, I pulled the covers away to reveal the scar on his back. A thick scab of dark blood had dried where the gash had been. The infected pink edge had faded, which was a good sign. Kull had been lucky. I doubted he would've survived another day with a wound like that. He'd said once before that he was alive because the gods allowed it. He meant it.

I scooted closer to the fire, feeling the early morning chill seep inside the tent. I rubbed my hands together to get the circulation going. My head hurt as I stood, but I ignored it as best as I could. I crossed to the table where I'd put my clothes.

The table sat empty.

I searched around it, hoping they'd fallen off, but I found nothing. Had I put them somewhere else? Perhaps Kull had moved them. I debated on waking him when I remembered that Arantha had been holding a bundle of clothing. Had they been my clothes?

My heart sped up. This wasn't good. Geth's book and the dream catcher were still hidden inside.

I crossed to the tent's flap when I heard a man yelling. I stepped out, cold air nipping at my skin, to find Arantha passed out only a few yards away from the tent. Peerling's book lay next to her, its pages flapping in a stiff wind. A man crouched over her, studying the black dream catcher that was clutched in her hand.

"Geth!" he called.

The man looked up as I approached, his dark eyes wide. "Is this yours?"

Uh-oh. How could I explain my way out of this one? What should I say?

"Is it _yours_?" he repeated louder.

Geth appeared behind the man, accompanied by several other brutes nearly as tall as Kull. Geth hesitated as he stepped toward Arantha. His face paled as he focused on me.

"You..."

I took a step back.

"Is this your dark magic?"

"No. It's not mine. I was only guarding it—"

"You have brought this evil into our camp—into our home!"

"It wasn't meant to be out of my sight."

With the tip of his boot, he kicked the dream catcher out of Arantha's hand. It landed several feet away.

"Take her," Geth said to his men as he knelt by the healer.

"Geth, please—I can explain. This is a mistake."

Rough hands encircled my arms.

"Explain?" Geth asked. Arantha looked dazed as she sat up, rubbing her forehead. Geth helped the woman to her feet. "You don't need to explain anything. I have my proof." He pointed at the dream catcher and then stepped close to me, so close I could see the yellow flecks in his eyes. "My men saw the Dreamwalker with the same dark talisman that you carry. That thief took our children's dreamsouls, enslaving them. We left our home to find that creature. We have been searching ever since. And now we have found you. You are the Dreamwalker."

"No, I'm not! You're wrong."

"It is true. I suspected you were lying to me earlier. You stole my book, which proves you are a thief." He backed away, his eyes filled with rage. "Tie her up," he told his men.

I couldn't let this happen. "Geth, stop. I'm not the Dreamwalker."

"You deny it?"

"Yes! I found that loom in the Wult tombs. My godson was imprisoned by the Dreamwalker, and I was trying to save him. I don't know who this Dreamthief is, but I mean to find her and stop her."

Geth crossed his arms. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Yet you brought that talisman into our camp knowing of its danger. Can you deny this?"

Ropes tightened around my wrists, so tight I felt my circulation being cut off.

"Why did you come to my camp?" he demanded. "Did you mean to steal our dreams? Is that why you gave that cursed loom to our healer? Or were you searching for something else?" His eyes narrowed.

"I've told you, I'm not the Dreamthief."

"You came to our camp for a reason. Why?"

"I needed shelter."

"You are lying."

"I'm telling the truth! We were returning from the Wult tombs when the goblins ambushed us. We escaped them and found our way here."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

My thoughts grew frantic. I couldn't make my hands stop shaking. "Because I didn't know if I could trust you. I should have told you. I'm sorry."

His arms flexed as he clenched his fists. "I cannot believe a word you speak. Tell me why you are here—I will not ask it again."

I shook my head. He would never believe me. I knew his type. Once he'd made up his mind, he'd refuse to believe the truth, even if it stared him straight in the face.

"Tell me!" Geth yelled. He punched me in the ribs with enough force to crack bone. A loud pop sounded through the air, and pain exploded in my side. The blow made tears spring into my eyes. Stars danced in my vision.

"What's this?" Kull shouted as he stormed outside the tent, shirtless, his hair mussed and his eyes narrowed, reminding me of a grizzly waking from hibernation. Although I couldn't breathe and the pain made my vision blur, the sight of Kull brought more relief than I thought possible. "What are you doing to her?" he roared.

Geth stepped back. "Take him," he shouted at his men.

Three bulky men lunged for the Wult with their spears drawn. Kull had no weapons and no armor, yet I felt sorrier for the fighters than I did for him.

Kull ducked as the first man approached. He grabbed the spear's wooden shaft and ripped it from the man's hands, then gouged the butt-end of the weapon into the man's eye. The fighter fell back, screaming, hands held to his face.

Another man rushed at him, but Kull slammed his fist into the man's jaw. The fighter fell back, stunned, and hit the ground with a loud thud. He scooted backward as Kull closed in, drawing attention away from the third man, who rushed in behind Kull and stabbed the warrior's back right below his deltoid.

Kull let out a sound that I swore could have been a growl. In a swift motion, he jerked the spear from his back and knocked the third man to the ground. Kull pinned him down, the man's own weapon jabbed into his throat.

A dozen more men closed in, as if Kull had opened a floodgate. The whole encampment erupted as they fought the Wult intruder. My confidence in Kull's abilities waned. Sure, he could stop a few fighters, but not this many.

My stomach sickened as I watched a spear gouge Kull's torso. Another man slammed a cudgel-sized fist into Kull's face.

Kull fought back, bleeding and bruised, and one-by-one, the men fell. The fight lasted only a few minutes, but to me, it felt like hours. Soon, Kull stood in the center of an empty battlefield, although I was surprised to see that he hadn't killed a single man. Geth's warriors retreated, leaving him alone as he rushed at Geth with a spear.

The metal of a warm blade pressed against my throat. Strong arms encircled me, and I realized Geth held me. His arms were vice-like and squeezed the air out of my lungs, compressing my broken rib. I let out a muffled scream.

"Stop," Geth shouted as Kull bore down with the spear.

The Wult paused, his eyes aflame as his gaze met Geth's and then mine.

"Step back," Geth said. "Drop the spear."

Kull hesitated, as if trying to make up his mind. He flashed Geth a wicked smile. "Resorting to taking innocent victims, I see. Can't finish me yourself. I'm glad we didn't get the chance to meet earlier. I hate to meet cowards."

"She's no innocent victim." Geth's voice sounded calmer than I would've expected.

Kull held the spear tight. Geth pressed his knife into my neck. My heart pounded.

"Let her go, and we'll be on our way," Kull said.

"No. The Dreamwalker can't continue to haunt our lands and take our children. She must die."

Kull raised an eyebrow. "Dreamwalker?"

"Don't act like you don't know." He nodded at his few uninjured men, who stood and then grabbed Kull's arms. Kull resisted, which made Geth's knife cut through my skin. The blade stung as it opened an incision.

"Stop fighting us, or I'll kill her," Geth warned.

Kull eyed me. How much did my life mean to him? Perhaps he would regret my death, but given the chance, wouldn't he rather fight for his own survival than for my life—the life of one person—of someone he'd only just met and knew little about?

He dropped the spear and let the men tie his hands behind his back. Geth relaxed the knife at my throat. The wind stung my open wound.

"Nehor," Geth called. The man I'd met when we first arrived came forward. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, making his facial scars deepen.

"Take her." He shoved me into Nehor's arms. "Kill them both," Geth said, wiping the blade on his pants. "Make sure no one finds their bodies."

# Chapter Twenty-One

Cold wind stung my face as the man shoved me to the ground. My knees hit the snow. Kull fell next to me, his body bloodied, his face bruised. I glanced at him, wanting to say something before Geth's men executed us.

He winked at me.

True Kull—fierce even in the face of death.

Something hard slammed into the back of my head. Pain exploded inside my brain, and I screamed. I tasted blood as stars danced in my vision. I tried to focus and found the world spinning.

Shouting came from far away. I listened. More shouts followed the first. The men surrounding us ran toward the shouting. What was happening?

I steadied my breathing, trying to concentrate past the pain. I studied the forest and found that a fight had broken out. Several men threw punches, but they didn't have a chance against the girl with the knife. I studied her more closely. My breath caught in my throat.

Heidel.

How did she get here? How did she find us?

One of the men screamed as he fell back, hands held over a bloody wound in his stomach. I saw several more men lying on the ground, bleeding out.

Through bleary eyes, I glanced at Kull, who had managed to sit up. I wasn't so lucky. Every time I moved, my head screamed with pain. I wanted to black out so the pain would go away.

Heidel screamed as she tossed a man into a tree, and then she planted her knife in his neck and rounded as Nehor charged from behind. She ducked and then gripped her knife from the man's neck, pulled it free, and stabbed Nehor in his gut.

"Stop!" I heard a commanding voice come from the forest. Geth walked forward, surrounded by two men holding spears.

Heidel glanced up, her knife still in the man's belly. I saw something in her face that gave me pause. Recognition. Did she know Geth?

"What are you doing?" Geth asked as he neared her.

She pointed at him, her arm smeared with his man's blood. "Not another step. I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you and everyone you love. How dare you take my brother!"

"Your brother?" Geth took another step forward. His armed guards stayed with him. "This man is your brother?"

Heidel yanked her knife free of the man's belly. "Do not pretend you're innocent. You knew it was him. You knew who he was. You brought him here on purpose. I will kill you, Geth! I will kill everyone you've ever loved. I will spit on your rotting corpses—"

"Heidel." He spoke her name in a commanding tone.

She stopped.

"I did not know he was your brother, though I should have realized it. You both fight like demons. I am sorry."

She stood still. Her long, raven hair was pulled into a ponytail and moved in the gentle wind. "You are?"

"Yes. Your brother is free to go."

"And what of the human girl?"

Geth's jaw clenched. "I cannot let her leave."

"Why?"

"We have discovered that she is the Dreamwalker. We cannot allow her to live. She is a threat, and a very powerful—"

Heidel laughed.

"You find this amusing?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Her talents are basic and extremely limited. She is no Dreamwalker. She is not a threat to you. She is not a threat to anyone."

"You are certain?"

Heidel moved forward, fist clenching her knife. Her smile faded. "I will take her whether you wish it or not. And if you do not agree, I will gut you like a wild animal. I will mutilate you until you beg for death, and that is when I will—"

"Very well!" He stood tall. "If she is no threat, as you claim, then you may take them both. But be warned, if this woman is not the Dreamwalker, then we are in grave danger." His voice dropped. "You know what I speak of." He turned, gave orders to his men to collect the wounded, and then retreated.

Heidel stood rigid as she watched him go. Then, she rounded on us, her eyes narrowed as she stared at her brother. I watched as she went to him, knelt, and inspected his wounds. A bruise had formed on his face. He winced as she touched it.

"They would have killed you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind.

"It's good to see you too, sister," he managed.

"Once again, I have saved your life. This is becoming a habit, brother." She untied his hands and then came to me to help me with my bindings. As soon as I got to my knees, I collapsed. The pain was too much. My consciousness ebbed, and I welcomed the blackness.

# Chapter Twenty-Two

The trickling of running water came from far away. I tried to collect my thoughts. Was I dead? I remembered Geth. I remembered Heidel rescuing us.

I opened my eyes. A wooden-beamed ceiling with logs the color of honey spanned overhead. It was the kind of thing you'd see at one of those upscale ski lodges. Somehow, I knew I couldn't be in a ski lodge. Wrong planet.

A woman's face blocked my view. Her thin nose and high cheekbones were reminiscent of Heidel's, though her bright gray eyes and blonde hair were more similar to Kull's. She smiled as she stretched a blanket over me.

I tried to sit up. When my muscles refused, I attempted to make my voice work. "Where am I?"

"In Danegeld."

"Where?"

"The Wult fortress."

I focused on the room around me. A window sat close to my bed. Through the glass, I spied fog-covered mountains surrounding a lake of dark water. Green foliage peeked through gaps in the mist as it weaved slowly over the mountaintops.

A little girl coughed quietly. She stood next to the woman. Her round face peeked from her mother's skirts.

"I am Kull's sister. I am called Eugrid," the woman said. "And this is my daughter, Freydil. How are you feeling?"

My head throbbed, and I tasted blood when I swallowed, though the pain in my side had dulled. I pulled back the blanket to find my abdomen wrapped with bandages. "I am well enough. Did you do this?" I asked her.

"Yes."

I pressed my fingers to my broken rib. It felt whole again, but how? I was certain I had broken it. "You healed me? Did you use magic?"

"My talent is in healing. Not in magic." She showed me a wooden bowl with brown flowers inside. I didn't recognize them. "Although, I have come across certain plants that can be used to speed the healing process."

The little girl stirred. "Soup, Mother?"

"Yes, I nearly forgot. Can you fetch it for me?"

The girl skipped to a bowl sitting atop a table. She brought it to her mother.

"Thank you," Eugrid said. She offered me the bowl. "Eat this. It will help."

I took a small bite. Thick vegetable soup warmed me. The taste was heavenly.

"You are fortunate Heidel found you," Eugrid said.

"Yes."

"Kull is too reckless. I tell him he must stop and think before he makes decisions, but I am only his sister. He should never have traveled into the goblin lands. We know so little about them. He could have been killed, and you with him. We are lucky Heidel found you when she did."

"I agree. Although I wonder how she found us. I thought she'd been captured."

"Indeed. The goblins captured her, but they made a fine mistake. She escaped and killed the lot of them. Heidel has a talent for evasion. If you ask me, the goblins picked the wrong person to capture." She placed the bowl with the brown flowers on the table. "Kull will speak with you. But you must rest first."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes, he recovered quickly. At least, that's what he claims. He's hunting now. I couldn't make him rest."

That sounded like Kull.

Eugrid handed something to me. "Heidel recovered this from the goblins. She said it was yours."

I focused through bleary eyes and realized she held my pack. I took it and checked inside. My mirror. I'd thought it was gone for good. But where was the dream catcher I'd found in the temple ruins?

Eugrid must have seen my questioning glance. "If you're looking for the goblin's loom, my sister has it. She said it was cursed."

This wasn't good. Touching it could bring out the magic. I hoped she had sense enough not to handle it. I had to get it back.

"Where is Heidel?"

"She's in the library."

"Library?"

"You'll find it just out this doorway and down the hall."

I peered out the open door and spied a long hallway.

"You must rest before leaving your room. You're most likely suffering from a brain injury. Also, your bones need time to recover. My healing will only help you as long as you keep still. My sister can wait," Eugrid said.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've been through some tough scrapes before."

"But surely never like this?"

I smiled. "I assure you. I feel fine."

She sighed. "You sound just like Kull."

"I have spent the past week with him."

She patted my hand. "You are called Olive, correct?"

"That's me."

The little girl tugged on a strand of my hair to reveal my ears. "They're pointed!" she whispered.

Her mother pulled her back. "Forgive her. She's only five."

"It's okay. I've got a godson. He's seven." I exhaled. Bringing Jeremiah up only made me realize how far I was from finding him. At least I'd made it to the tombs. I had Kull to thank for that. I wasn't sure why, but I felt I needed to defend him.

"Kull isn't always a fool," I told Eugrid. "He meant to help me find my godson. He nearly gave his life to do it. Yes, he is stubborn. But he's also brave. You're lucky to have a brother like him."

Eugrid stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. Her eyes narrowed. "You are new to our lands?"

"Yes."

"And are you familiar with our Wult culture?"

"Not exactly."

"Then I will speak with honesty. Kull is a Wult. When he gives his word, he follows through, no matter the circumstances, no matter who he gives his word to, be it you or anyone else. You must not mistake his loyalty for something it is not."

I blinked. "I'm sure I wasn't."

She didn't look convinced. "Rest," she said, then turned and left the room. Freydil gave my ears one last glance before trotting after her mother.

I laid my head on the pillow. The ceiling spun overhead. Eugrid seemed to know more about me than I did. Just like her brother. How convenient.

I glanced at my room. I'd never been inside a Wult fortress before. Turning my head, I focused on the lake outside the window. Maywelters flitted over the water, leaving streamers of light in their wake. Their rainbow of colors reflected off the water. I'd never seen so many maywelters in one place. My heart gave a tiny flutter at the sight.

After finishing my soup, I climbed out of bed and felt grateful that my mind felt like my own again, though my lungs hurt when I breathed.

I hoped Heidel was okay. She seemed to have some knowledge of magic, but I doubted she knew how dangerous that dream catcher could be. I had to find her soon. No, I had to find her now. I didn't have time to let my bones heal.

I headed for the door and peeked outside. The empty hallway stared back. Good. Eugrid couldn't follow me, although I suspected she would find out sooner or later that I'd escaped. The stone tiles felt cold under my bare feet, and windows, similar to the ones in my room, sat in recesses along the walls. Pale sunlight drifted through them, painting warmth across the chilly floors.

As I walked through the hall, I decided that if I ever settled down, I'd like to have a view like this. If I got into an awful mood, which wasn't hard for me to do, I would stand in front of these windows until I calmed down. Or if that didn't work, I could at least pound my head against the glass.

I found the library. The doors were slightly ajar, so I pushed them aside to enter a room large enough to rival Fan'twar's chambers. Smells of worn leather and careworn paper greeted me, and I breathed them in. This room reminded me of the libraries in the dragon cave. I'd spent hours there as a child, never feeling as if I'd soaked in enough knowledge, always feeling as if a new adventure waited behind the cover of another book.

The number of books in this library rivaled the dragons' collections. I had no idea the Wults were so interested in books. The shelves spanned all the way to the ceiling—at least two-stories tall. My footsteps echoed over the huge, marble tiles.

"Heidel?" I called. My voice bounced off the walls, though I got no reply. I searched through the stacks but found no one.

Where was she?

I followed the stacks until I found the back wall. A fireplace as tall as two men and with a wooden grate took up most of the wall. Odd. Why would anyone use a wooden grate in a fireplace?

I stepped closer and noticed stones of differing colors made up the flu's back wall. They formed an arch and reminded me of a doorway. I stepped past the grate and stood in front of the arched stones. A handle had been worked into the bricks.

Before deciding to blow the thing up, I tried the door handle. With a grating of stone, the door swung open. I entered a small chamber.

The dimly lit chamber looked dungeon-like with its low ceiling and smells of rot. Sconces made from animal bone lined the hallway. Firelight flickered from the wooden torches, putting off a smell of wood smoke.

I glanced back at the library. Would Heidel be back here? It seemed an odd place to wait for me, but if she had my dream catcher, I had no other choice but to find her. My bare feet made little sound as I crossed over the stone tiles.

Pain stitched through my side. I winced with every step, but continued on until sunlight replaced firelight. Leaving the hallway, I stepped into a cavernous room.

A domed ceiling soared overhead. Glass panels replaced the walls and ceiling. I'd thought the view out of my room had been beautiful, but this view was breathtaking. The mist burned away from the mountains. Tree branches swayed under a sapphire sky. Maywelters made ripples in the water.

"Didn't you read the sign? _Death to those who enter?_ "

Kull's voice. I focused on a leather chair near the back of the room.

"My Wultish is rusty. Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

I walked around the chair to face him. He was wearing actual glasses—the nerdy kind that made his eyes bulge. His knit turtleneck sweater made the glasses look even nerdier. He sat comfortably in his chair, a tumbler filled with an amber-colored liquid next to him. I wondered if I'd stumbled on Kull's smarter, less arrogant, more cultured twin brother.

He closed the book he'd been reading to stare at me.

"You look confused," he said.

"I'm wondering what happened to the sword and blood-soaked animal skins."

His grin looked rakish. "You preferred me in that?"

I couldn't answer. What was it with him that made me so tongue-tied?

"You're trespassing. Most people who come in here leave as corpses."

"Sure they do."

_Nope, still arrogant._

He took a sip from his tumbler when I noticed the cover of his book. _When Dreams Cometh._

I gasped. "Where'd you get that?"

He inspected the book. "Boring as hell, but I've read everything else in this library."

"You stole it from me."

"You're jumping to conclusions. It's been in my library for years."

I crossed my arms. "Did Heidel manage to smuggle that away along with us?"

"She might have. I might have borrowed it from her. I was curious to know why you felt the need to steal it from Geth. But I've decided that you must find something more exciting to read. Like the romance category—very stimulating—and I'm sure _you'd_ discover it to be very educational."

"I'll have you know that I have a boyfriend." One that I hadn't talked to in a week, but he didn't have to know that.

"Heidel says the same thing when I prod her. But, you know, she's never introduced me to him. Makes me wonder if she's lying to me."

" _I_ am not lying."

"I didn't say you were."

"You implied it."

He stood slowly, and stopped next to me. I flinched when he pushed my hair away from my ear. "Are elven ears always so pink? Or is it only the half-elf sort that changes this color?"

"Why don't you ask Euralysia?"

He laughed.

I stepped toward the window. Being close to him made me feel too volatile. "I'd like that book back, if you don't mind."

"Do you know what you're asking for?"

I sighed. He wore down my patience. "Of course I do."

"No." His voice took on a somber tone. When he removed his glasses, he somehow seemed more menacing. "Do you know what you're asking for?"

The warning in his voice made me hesitate from snatching the book. "You know something about that book that I don't?"

He pointed to the author's name on the cover. _LM Peerling._ "How much do you know about him?"

Not much. There was no such thing as the Internet in Faythander, and those who had knowledge tended to keep it to themselves. I was lucky to have more knowledge than most, but my dragon stepfather was the king of Faythander. Still, I knew little about the author.

"He was a Wult, Olive."

That surprised me. Not because Wults weren't intelligent, but because most found plundering to be a more lucrative career than book writing. "How do you know?"

"He comes from a well-known family. Some of his family's journals are in this library."

"What do they say?" This was huge. I had no idea those journals existed.

Kull hesitated. "They aren't very straightforward. I get the impression that some things in that family were meant to be kept secret. But I can tell you this—the Peerlings weren't like any Wult family I've ever heard of. There's no record of them before the crossing."

"Nothing?"

"No journals, no records. Wults take pride in mapping out their genealogy. During the crossing, most of the families risked their lives to preserve their family pedigrees. But the Peerlings—it's almost as if they didn't exist until after the crossing."

"Do you think someone destroyed the records?"

He shook his head. "Impossible to say."

"What else do you know about them?"

"I know Peerling wasn't the original name. The first records of the family date back to right after the crossing, but strangely, the family went by another name."

"What name?"

Kull exhaled a nervous breath. "They were called Mog."

# Chapter Twenty-Three

I paced the room, somehow thinking I would be able to concentrate better. Bill Clinton disagreed. "The Mog family—they were in the tomb—the family you said was cursed. And the light tower, Mr. Green called it Mog's Keep. You think they're from the same family?"

"Yes. No other Wults would have taken that name."

"Then why did they change their name?"

"For protection, perhaps."

"Protection from whom?"

Kull pinched his lips shut. "No one."

I eyed him. It wasn't like Kull to keep information from me. He'd always been brutally honest. "You know something."

"No." He handed me the book, then leaned close enough to whisper. "Some things even I can't speak of."

"What do you know?"

He shook his head.

"Kull—"

"We should find my sister." He turned to leave.

"If there's something you know, you have to tell me. You know what's at stake—my godson, our lives, possibly every life in Faythander. What do you know?"

I used my stern voice. I didn't use it often, and I think it caught him off guard.

He exhaled. "I'll tell you what little I know."

Kull took his time before speaking. The wind gusted outside, blowing leaves against the windowpanes. He crossed his arms as he stood in front of the window. The sunlight cast dappled spots across his chest.

"Several years ago, I went on a hunting expedition with my father. We traveled to the northlands—as close to the goblin border as we could get. We'd heard that the grimwelts had grown fat and meant to hunt them."

"And did you?"

"We never got a chance. We were attacked."

"Who attacked you?"

He hesitated. "They appeared to be elves, though they wore beards and were built like Wults."

"Geth's people?"

"Perhaps. They were much the same as Geth and his men, though they were less organized, more savage. I managed to kill one. My father and our companions frightened off the rest. When I went through the dead man's clothing, I found a vial that looked much the same as the vials in the healer's tent. It was a potion of some sort."

"A potion?"

He nodded. "I never discovered its purpose."

"Do you have any idea who those fighters were? Or who Geth and his followers are?"

"I have my suspicions. Shortly after we were attacked, we learned of a group of resistance fighters called the Caxon. They feel the elves have unfair control over the four nations. It's rumored that the followers of Mog support the Caxon."

"Could Geth and his followers have been the Caxon?"

"It's possible."

"But who are they? They look like no elves I've ever encountered. As far as I know, elves can't grow facial hair." It seemed like an insignificant thing to point out, but it was a fact that made no sense.

"I've told you all I know."

I watched the maywelters flutter over the lake. They looked so calm, exactly opposite of how I felt inside. I wanted to be down there, listening to their beating wings and drinking in the fresh air. Pressing my hand against the glass, I let the window's warmth calm my churning stomach.

"Heidel may have more information for us. While in captivity, I suspect she learned something about her captors that may be of help."

"Where is she?"

"She is in solitude to gain her strength back." He pointed at the forest.

Something moved in the trees. A dark silhouette slammed something to the ground. Her knife glinted as she slit the thing's throat. I looked closer and saw that she held a giant snake. Blood soaked her armor.

"She's gaining her strength?"

"Of course," Kull answered.

"Eugrid would disagree."

"You've met my sister?"

"Yes." I pressed my fingers to my side. "She's an excellent healer."

"Don't let her deceive you. She's got a tongue sharp enough to rival any warrior's blade. But she is a good mother to my niece and nephews. Thank the gods for that."

"You're lucky to live in a castle surrounded by your family." I thought of my apartment back home. If it weren't for Han Solo, I was sure I would have gone crazy. There was a reason why our justice system locked the worst criminals in solitary isolation—humans were meant to be social creatures. Loneliness could drive a person mad. I should know.

A gentle breeze shook the tree limbs. A few leaves broke away and tumbled to the ground. I kept my hand on the glass, mesmerized by the Wultland's beauty. "I don't think I've ever seen a place more beautiful in all of Faythander. It would be amazing to wake up to that view every morning."

I felt Kull's eyes on me. My stomach gave that annoying flutter. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I focused on Heidel instead. She now had the snake slung over one shoulder. She walked with a noticeable limp.

"Would you like to live here?" he asked me.

I was sure I hadn't meant it that way, but perhaps I'd said it wrong. I thought it best to clarify. "No. I was merely stating that I like the view."

"I believe you said that you would like to wake up every morning to this view, which would imply that you would like to live here."

"It was a metaphor."

He raised an eyebrow. We both turned to the window. Heidel found a footpath leading to the castle walls.

"She will use the south gate. If we hurry, we may catch her before she guts the beast. Come." He turned.

I followed him through the tunnel and out of the library. He didn't speak as we crossed through the hallways. Our footsteps echoed over the stone tiles, the only sound to break up the silence.

I wondered if Kull had told me everything. He'd said the Caxon were resistance fighters—but where did they come from? Did their quest have anything to do with my godson? They had more knowledge about the Dreamthief than me. If the two were connected, I needed to know everything about the Dreamthief and the Caxon I could find out.

I suspected Mr. Green could tell me, and I couldn't forget the dream I'd had about Jeremiah creating Sissy's face in the tiles. Two people I needed to talk to. I had to get back to Earth, but until I got that goblin's dream catcher back, I wouldn't be going anywhere.

We stopped at a broad stone staircase near the end of a hallway. I followed him down, holding my breath with each step and praying my rib didn't crack open.

We stepped into a large foyer. Massive granite pillars surrounded us. Animal skins covered some of the walls, making the place feel less barren. A hide with thick, rust-colored fur covered a portion of the floor. As we crossed, the eyes of dozens of stuffed animals looked down on us. Most I recognized as Faythander species—Grimwelts, burbonskis, cissikins—though I spotted a twenty-foot crocodile amongst the rest. It stood in the corner with its mouth gaped open.

"Is this your collection?" I asked Kull.

"A portion of it."

I pointed to the crocodile. "That's an interesting kill."

"I suppose so. I have no memory of it, though it must have been glorious."

"How so?"

He raised his shirtsleeve to reveal a raised scar than ran the length of his arm. "I had this when I returned."

We stopped at a pair of tall, wooden doors. They creaked as Kull pushed them open. The sunlight blinded me as we walked outside. We crossed a narrow bridge spanning a stream, its water gurgling with a musical sound beneath us.

When we entered the forest, the green canopy blocked out the sunlight. The murmur of fairy voices came from the trees. Their bobbing lights flitted in and out of view. Our feet crunched over dead leaves and twigs as the footpath wound toward the lake.

Heidel walked toward us. She looked feral with the snake slung over her shoulder, its blood smearing her neck and hands. She wore a long braid, though it was also matted with blood. The crazed look in her eyes gave me pause; she'd always seemed distant, but now she looked dangerous.

"Brother."

She passed us without another word as she crossed to the stream. We followed her. She knelt on a muddy bank. Kull stalked after her, hands in his pockets, exuding casualness.

Heidel uncoiled the snake from her neck. Even in death, its body still writhed.

"You've managed a decent kill," Kull said.

"It's the best I could manage in these woods. Brodnik killed all the better game."

With a flick of her wrist, she unsheathed her knife. She slit the beast's belly open and then laid her knife aside. The intestines spilled out, shiny and pink in the morning sunlight. Grabbing a handful, she began the tedious chore of gutting the animal. Kull crouched beside her.

"It's odd that you found us in Geth's camp when you did, sister. Your timing seemed almost uncanny."

"Did it?"

"Yes. And it is a miracle that Geth let us go so easily, as if he knew you."

She eyed him.

"Did he know you?"

She wiped a blood-smeared hand across her cheek. "I met him once before. Briefly."

"Are you sure?" Kull asked her. "He seemed to acknowledge you as more than just a passing acquaintance."

"Yet that is all he is."

"When did you meet him?"

She jerked a loop of intestine out and tossed it in the water. It hit the surface with a loud splash. "That is none of your business."

I heard the snarl in her voice.

Kull watched her gut the snake, his eyes guarded. "Geth does not hesitate to kill. He is dangerous. If you have dealings with this man, then you should tell me. I will protect you—"

"Protect me?" she laughed. "What do you know of protecting me? Where were you when the goblins captured me? When I was chained like an animal and given no food or water? Where were you then?"

Kull looked as if she'd slapped him, but the moment was brief. He gave her a gentle smile. "I am not as skilled in the art of rescuing as you are."

The snake coiled around her hand. With a frustrated scream, she yanked it away. She grabbed the entire carcass and flung it into the river. It landed with a splash that sent waves to the shore. Droplets pelted my face and arms.

Heidel collapsed onto the muddy bank. Kull sat beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder. She looked as if she meant to push it away. Instead, she stared into the undulating water, her eyes red and swollen.

"I missed you," she finally admitted. "I missed your brainless remarks and your fool's wit. I missed your laughter. I feared they had killed you."

"I am a hard man to kill. You know that."

Rippling water broke the silence. When Heidel spoke, her voice sounded distant. "Goblins are dark creatures. They do not understand morality as we do. They kill and rape as though it is natural. They wish only to destroy. It is a wonder their species has survived for so long."

"Where did they take you?" Kull asked quietly.

"They kept me blindfolded whenever we traveled. I know they took me underground. We must have been in some sort of catacombs. The goblins were everywhere. I can still smell their stench." She wiped a muddied hand across her nose.

"They fought often and left the carcasses out for me to see. Whether they did this on purpose, I do not know, though it felt as though they did. They did not feed me. They knew what I would have to do—what they forced me to do."

"I am sorry," Kull said.

Heidel hugged her knees to her chest. "Escape was my only thought. Even when I slept, I dreamed of escape. Goblins are ruthless, but they have little contact with outsiders, which makes them lousy captors. I found my knife on one of the corpses and made quick work of cutting through my bindings." She rubbed her wrists. "I made sure they suffered before they died."

"And how did you find us?" I asked as I sat next to Kull.

"It wasn't hard. They knew where you were, though it took some prodding on my part to learn the truth." She found her knife and stroked it over the grass. Blood stained the green shoots.

"Most of the goblins I saw were little more than animals," Heidel continued. "They are depraved, brainless, mutilating one another without a conscience. But others..." she paused, seeming lost in thought. "It seems some goblins have developed a sense of awareness."

"What do you mean?" Kull asked.

"Some were magic practitioners, skilled in transformation."

"And these other goblins acted differently than the rest?"

"Yes. I hardly recognized them as goblins. They were more cunning, more organized, less... bloodthirsty."

"Goblins are goblins," Kull said. "No matter what they look like. They're all the same underneath."

"True," I answered. "But if they're organizing, that can't be good. They're most likely preparing to summon Theht."

"You don't know for sure," Kull replied.

"No, but I'd bet your dinosaur's head on it."

Kull crossed his arms. "Ah yes, I'm glad you reminded me. When will we be retrieving it?"

"Soon enough." Between finding Mr. Green, interrogating Sissy, poring through Peerling's book, and trying to find out where Mog's Keep was located, I knew I'd never have time to help him steal a dinosaur's remains. I wished I'd never made that bet.

"You travel to Earth Kingdom?" Heidel asked her brother.

"Yes."

"You should fear doing such a thing. Your memories—"

"I'll lose them, I know. But if I come back with that beast's skeleton, it will be worth it."

"Some of the goblins I met in the catacombs had more sense than you."

Kull laughed. "I see they've brainwashed you. Even more reason you should come with us."

"Absolutely not."

"You'll miss a great opportunity."

She turned to me. "You are brave to take him with you. Don't let him talk you into anything you'd regret."

I cleared my throat. "I'm sure I won't."

Kull wrapped an arm around me, squeezing my shoulders tighter than I felt comfortable with. "Olive knows how to take care of herself."

"It's not her I'm worried about."

I decided to change the subject. "Eugrid said you have my dream catcher?"

"The cursed loom—yes." She pulled a package wrapped in sheepskin from her pocket.

I wasn't sure if she was aware or not, but the skins of certain animals negated magical properties. Lambskins were used for this. When she handed it over, I wondered if she knew more about magic than I'd thought. Either that, or she had a natural inclination toward magical powers.

With careful hands, I opened the package. Although I knew how dark the magic was, I wasn't prepared for its taint when I peeled back the wrapping. It hit me like a tsunami.

I flinched and replaced the covering.

"Something wrong?" Heidel asked.

"No, this is it."

"What will you do with it?"

"Once I get back to my apartment, I'll spellcast it and try to figure out who created the spell."

"Is that a wise idea?"

"Probably not. But I don't have much of a choice. This is dark magic like I've never seen. Not even goblin magic compares with this. If I find out where this magic comes from, I may be able to find where Mog's Keep is located and hopefully find my godson."

"And find my dinosaur's skeleton."

"Yes, and that."

_Would he shut up about that?_

Kull turned to Heidel. "I cannot convince you to come with us?"

She shook her head. "My place is here. Be certain not to get captured. I will not rescue you again."

"You have my word."

She eyed him, blood drying on her face and matting her hair. "I will miss you," she said quietly.

"And I you."

She gave him a brief hug before grabbing her knife and walking into the castle. Kull and I stayed by the stream. The snake's carcass bobbed slowly as it got tangled in the weeds along the shore.

Kull sat without speaking, his jaw clenched. I knew whenever Kull wasn't speaking, he was brooding. "What's on your mind?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He turned to me a second later. "Just brooding, I suppose."

_Hey, didn't I call it?_

"Brooding over what?"

"Nothing important."

"It must be important, or you wouldn't be worrying about it. You can tell me."

He raised an eyebrow. "In your world, you help people with troubled minds, is this true?"

"Yes."

"You are a therapist?" He said the unfamiliar word slowly.

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

"You questioned why I am worried. Is this Olive the therapist speaking?"

"It's Olive the friend speaking."

He tightened the muscles in his jaw. "Friend?"

Maybe I'd gone too far. Maybe the greatest Wult warrior in history only chose friends he deemed worthy.

"Very well, if Olive Kennedy, the friend, is speaking, then I'd like to know how observant you are."

"I can be observant when I need to be. What am I observing?"

"Did you see Heidel's hands?"

_Her hands?_

"I saw them. Was something wrong?"

"Scars. She's had them for years. I always assumed them to be battle wounds."

"And now you think they aren't?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure."

I'd seen Heidel's scars before. I had assumed the same thing as him. But if those scars weren't battle wounds, what else could they be?

"Heidel disguises her emotions well. But I know she feels pain. I fear that being in captivity has only deepened her pain."

I didn't know what to say. He was right. Sugarcoating the truth might make him feel better, but it wouldn't help. "Heidel has to deal with her pain on her own terms. Only time can help with that."

He turned to me. His eyes showed his desperation. "Will she recover?"

"I can't say for sure."

"But you have knowledge about the human brain and how it works. You have training in Earth Kingdom's institutions. Have they taught you nothing? Will my sister recover from her injuries?"

"Kull, I can't say—"

"You can guess, can't you?"

He wanted an answer. He wouldn't relent until he got one. "Oftentimes, people who've suffered traumatic events in their life such as abuse never recover. It's a scar they carry for the rest of their lives. She can overcome it, but she'll never be the same. Abuse is a horrible thing. It does things to the brain that we can't yet comprehend. I don't have a magic cure for this one. I'm sorry."

My thoughts led me to Jeremiah. I didn't want to imagine the horrors he was suffering.

"Thank you," Kull finally answered.

A breeze gusted past, aiding the snake's corpse to break free from the weeds. The current caught it, and the ropy loops of brown and black disappeared downstream.

"How will we travel to Earth Kingdom?" he asked.

"I'll use my mirror. Bring only what you can carry. We'll meet at the lake once we've packed up. I need somewhere quiet for the spell to work. And you might want to leave your broadsword here."

He shot me a dark look.

"I'm serious. People on Earth don't carry swords around. You could get arrested."

"Then how do they defend themselves?"

"Umm, pepper spray?"

"A potion of some sort?"

"Yeah, it comes in a little plastic bottle, you spray it at your attacker. Burns for hours."

Kull snorted. "My broadsword comes with me."

"You'll regret it." I imagined him in the Harris County jail. I would have to bail him out for attacking some poor pedestrian with his sword.

He stood, brushed the mud from his backside, which I paid very little attention to, and walked to the castle. "You don't know me as well as I thought," he called over his shoulder. "The sword comes with me."

I ground my teeth. _Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn_.

I was sure one of us wouldn't be returning. Bill agreed.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

After packing what little I could, I left the castle. The walk to the lake cleared my head. Jeremiah's capture was starting to wear me down.

I felt responsible for him. I felt like a failure. Why couldn't I have visited more? Why couldn't I have been more protective? I knew beating myself up would accomplish nothing, but Al Einstein tried hard to convince me otherwise.

Wind gusted through the towering evergreens, making the boughs sway. The smell of fresh pine filled the rain-scented air. I let it fill my lungs. The sapphire waters of the lake appeared ahead. With the weight of my pack slung over my shoulder, I felt the presence of the dream catcher inside. Should I bring such an item to Earth?

I felt reasonably certain in saying that I understood magic. The sky king had taught me about all forms—dragon, pixie, elven, even some goblin. I'd learned Earth magic as well. But this magic was like nothing I'd ever studied. It felt ancient and evil, as if being near it would taint the purest enchantment.

My footsteps made little noise over the needle-strewn path. I stopped when I reached the shore. Sunlight reflected off the water. The laughter of water sprites echoed over the lake as I knelt, took out my mirror case, and inhaled deeply.

_Are you ready to go back?_ Bill asked me.

I pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter if I was ready or not.

Heavy footsteps came from the path. I turned to see Kull walking toward me. He wore a leather vest studded with silver spikes. His sword hung from one shoulder, knife handles shone from his belt, and his leather boots looked as if they'd been crafted from dragon hide—a landwalker, by the looks of it.

"I thought I said to pack light."

"You said to pack only what I could carry."

_Had I? I should pay more attention to how I phrase things._

"Fine, but you'll have to leave half of it in my apartment."

He knelt beside me as I opened my mirror. Blue Faythander light curled from the mirror's surface, enveloping me. I brushed my fingers over the glass, not detecting any enchantments, unless the goblins had found a way to hide their magic as my father had. Not likely.

"How many times have you crossed worlds?" I asked him.

"Several times."

"Were you ever wearing a memory charm?"

"Only once on a visit to France. I had to sell off half my collection to afford it."

"So you're familiar with the side effects? Dizziness, trouble concentrating, that sort of thing?"

"I'm prepared."

"Are you? From now until we return to Faythander, you'll retain your memories, but once we cross back, you'll lose all your memories from Earth. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I will sacrifice what I must."

I turned to my mirror. Can't say I didn't warn him. When I touched the glass, magic swirled beneath my fingertips. Its presence called to me. "As soon as I tell you, put your hand on the glass. Don't take it off until we've crossed."

"I understand."

I took a deep breath. Magic flowed inside me, and then I pressed the palm of my hand to the surface. " _Now_ ," I whispered to Kull.

I felt his hand next to mine. The magic caught us in its tidal wave, sucking the air from my lungs. I kept my eyes closed to keep the dizziness from overwhelming me. Wind whooshed through my ears as if I stood inside a tornado.

The wind quieted. My ears rang as I opened my eyes. We stood in my apartment. Gray light seeped through the window over the sink. Was it morning? Hopefully, I'd gained a few hours. I never knew when I'd come back—sometimes hours ahead, sometimes days. The crossing gods never seemed to make up their minds, though I usually ended up within an hour or two of the right day.

"Is this where you dwell?" Kull asked.

The ringing in my ears made his voice sound distant. He looked colossal in my tiny apartment.

"This is my home."

Han Solo pounced on the counter and gave us a once over, his whiskers twitching as he sniffed unfamiliar scents.

Kull removed his knife. His eyes lit up with a predator's gaze.

"Whoa." I grabbed Han off the counter. "He's my pet. No killing."

"You keep a small grimwelt for your pet?"

"This is a _house cat_." I pronounced the words slowly. "He can't hurt you."

The predatory look remained for a few seconds, and then he sheathed his knife.

_Sheesh, already tried to kill my pet. What else would this guy try?_

I rubbed Han's ears. He ate it up.

The rumble of car engines came from Seawall Boulevard. Kull inspected his new surroundings. He creased his brow. "Do all humans live in such tiny quarters?"

"Not everyone. It's certainly no castle. I'm sure it's not what you're used to."

His knees buckled, and he leaned against the bar.

"The dizziness won't last long."

He eyed me. "How did you manage to overcome it?"

"Lots of practice."

He knit his brow in concentration. "I feel as though the floor is liquid."

"It'll pass." I didn't envy him. I'd known some people who stayed bedridden for days. I hoped he wasn't one of them.

The dream catcher's dark magic called to me, so I pulled off my pack. With careful fingers, I removed the talisman and stowed it under the cabinet. I wouldn't be able to spellcast it yet. I needed the first rays of morning sunlight to negate the dark energy, and it looked like we'd arrived a few hours past that. Tomorrow morning, then. That gave me one day to talk to Sissy, find Mr. Green, and help Kull retrieve his dino. No sweat, right?

I found my car keys on the hook by the door. "Do you know what a car is?" I asked him.

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"The definition of car—if you mean V8 engine, one-hundred-forty horsepower, front-wheel drive muscle car, then yes, I know what a car is. Anything other than that I would not consider a car."

I gaped.

"I've a few Earth Kingdom texts in my library." He winked.

"Oh," was all I managed.

He grinned. "Shall we fetch my dinosaur first?"

Kull was impressed with my car. So much so that he wanted to drive. I didn't let him. Call me crazy.

I'd managed to talk him out of his sword and studded leather. Now he could pass for a regular guy—if regular meant six-foot-eight and cudgels for fists.

He didn't stay mad too long as we drove down Seawall Boulevard. This time, it was his turn to gape. Galveston is a carnival of sights and sounds—some pleasant, some not. The ocean breeze drifted through the open windows, the sprawling, historic hotels loomed overhead, and the sand-salted highways were awash with empty beer bottles and refuse. Beggars rifled through trashcans, and the beautiful pink sky tinged with lavender reflected the ocean.

He took it all in without saying a word. I don't think his Earth Kingdom texts had prepared him for the sounds, the smells. To a Wult who'd grown up with snow-capped peaks, dragons, majestic elven cities, and fresh air to breathe, I knew what he was thinking. Pretty crummy world.

"It's amazing."

Okay, maybe I didn't know.

"You think so?"

He watched a pair of surfers wearing wet suits cruise the waves. "Are all Earth cities like this one?"

"No." We'd be driving into the heart of Houston, with its headache traffic jams, twisting highways, and skyscrapers that made your head swim. A monster of a city. And no sea breezes to calm frazzled nerves. "Earth cities are noisy, polluted, crowded places. Not what you're used to. And no game to kill, either."

Kull didn't answer. I let him take it in. He remained silent as we crossed to the causeway and drove off Galveston Island. The traffic picked up. Huge semis passed us, and Kull stared at them with fascination.

Kull questioned me for the next hour and a half. I answered as best as I could, though in truth, human societal norms baffled me, and I wasn't sure I answered him correctly on half his questions.

I headed off I-45 and onto Highway 59 toward the zoo and museum district. Kull sat up in his seat as we passed the towering skyscrapers, their aquamarine glass reflecting the sun. Nothing in Faythander compared to this. The elves, while technologically advanced, preferred to keep their architecture unchanged. After thousands of years, they still built their buildings in the same style, preferring to expand outward instead of upward.

But here, in the concrete jungle, Kull looked unsettled. He gripped the dashboard as an eighteen-wheeler sped past. "I thought you said there were no creatures to slay."

"Trucks aren't meant to be slain, no matter how much you hate them."

The noise, the smells, and my blooming headache all made me wish I'd stayed in Faythander. I was a gal born for tall trees, grass, and empty, open sky dusted with the wings of fairies.

At least when we reached the museum I'd have a little time to study the Peerling text. The whirlwind of traffic continued until I turned onto Hermann Drive. We drove past the zoo, with its rows of shadowed shrubs and green, grassy hills that stretched toward the museum district. Even in December, the grass stayed green, a fairy world all of its own.

Sunlight drenched us as I pulled the car into a parking space at the museum. I glanced at Kull as I turned the car off. "Have you thought this through? Not to rain on your parade, but that T-Rex's skeleton won't fit in my trunk."

"That's why I brought you along."

"Me?"

"Use your magic. It's what you do best."

I would've smarted off, but in truth, he had more than fulfilled his end of the bargain. He'd taken me to the goblin lands and nearly gotten himself killed—the least I could do was help him steal a T-Rex. One problem—I had no clue how to do it. And I wasn't fond of breaking the law.

We climbed out of the car and took the sidewalk. The museum was a modern building with glass-paneled walls. A pyramid-shaped butterfly exhibit sat adjacent to the museum, and tall oak trees muffled the distant sounds of traffic. We passed a globe-shaped fountain where water bubbled from a hole at the top. A few people crowded the sidewalks.

We entered through glass double doors and bought tickets, which I had to dig into my grocery budget to afford, and then found our way to the exhibition hall.

The T-Rex was easy to spot—it towered over us. Its skeletal face displayed rows of teeth as long as my arms. Cinnamon-brown bones stretched from floor to ceiling, some of them taller than me. Claws curved from the tips of its fingers and toes. The similarities to the sky king were uncanny. Even after millions of years, magic flowed through these bones. This was the mother of dragons.

Kull and I stopped by a plaque. I skimmed over the stats and stopped at the more interesting part...

_The Houston Museum of Natural Science presents a unique, all-bone Tyrannosaurus Rex. This fossil features the best-preserved and most complete hands and feet of any Tyrannosaurus ever found. It includes patches of original skin. This specimen is the most complete Tyrannosaurus found in any of the world's museums to date._

An original skeleton. I wondered if Kull knew how valuable this was—not just on Earth, but in Faythander as well. So much could be discovered about the dragons' ancestry in this one specimen.

Kull circled the display. With his hands in his pockets, his face passive, he didn't look the type to thieve a priceless collection from a museum. A pang of guilt gnawed at me.

What would he do with it? Place it next to his croc so he could glance at it every now and then as he sipped brandy? I didn't feel right about stealing it. But I should have thought of that before I'd made the bargain.

I'd promised to bring him here, nothing else. Deciding to make better use of my time, I removed Peerling's book from my bag and headed for a bench near the windows. "Good luck," I said as I headed off.

"Where are you going?"

I held up the book. "I've got homework. Let me know when you figure out how to move that thing without anyone noticing."

He frowned, but I ignored him. Maybe I was being selfish, but this was his idea to come here. Give him a few hours, and he'd figure something out.

Maybe I'd even help him, if he asked nicely.

Sunlight filtered through the giant window walls as I took a seat on the concrete bench. Tucking my legs underneath me, I opened the book and studied each chapter heading until I landed on "Harnessing the Power of the Imagination." It sounded interesting, so I read it.

_Think of the snow falling. Imagine every individual flake, each one unique, all building into a crescendo of whiteness that covers the land, regardless of where it falls. Covering, blanketing._

_Can you see the snow? Can you taste its icy wetness on your cheeks and feel the flakes on your eyelashes?_

_You most likely are not in the snow. You are probably sitting, perhaps lying down somewhere warm and away from the cold, yet you've experienced what only the imagination provides._

_Did you actually experience the snowfall? Your first answer might be no, but let's reexamine the circumstances._

_Let's try something else._

_I want you to read the following passage, all the while aware of how you feel._

_Ponder the iciness, the numbness in your fingers and toes, the cold air entering your lungs, the chapped feeling in your cheeks, the scent of ice on the wind, the taste of it on your tongue._

_Did you feel the cold?_

_This is the imagination, unique to only a few humanoid species. In essence, you've traveled to another place. We've only traveled to somewhere cold—but imagine the other possibilities of where you might go._

_The possibilities of where your imagination might take you are limitless. There is no wall or barrier your own thoughts cannot penetrate._

"Olive?"

I heard a familiar voice and looked up. Brent stood over me.

_Brent. Of all people._

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"What are you?"

He pointed to his name badge. "A glass panel collapsed in the butterfly pyramid. They're losing the little critters like crazy. Needed me to come take a look, figure out how it happened."

"So you're collecting insects?"

"More or less."

He took a seat beside me. I inched over a fraction.

"You haven't returned my phone calls," he said.

"I've been busy."

"I know how it is. Solve one crisis, and another one starts."

"Yep." I inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, realizing that I'd missed him. I forgot how comfortable I felt around him. With Brent, it didn't matter if I looked good or not. Not that he wouldn't notice—it was more like I didn't care. I could tell him anything, whether he understood or not. I suppose he'd become my sounding board. I missed having a sounding board.

"How long has it been since I promised to take you on a date? A week or two, right?"

"Something like that."

He leaned closer. I felt obligated to look him in the eyes. "Still mad at me?"

"No."

"You sure?"

I pinched my lips together.

"I know I can be critical sometimes, but I just want what's best for you. So does your mom."

"She wants me to quit my job. How is that what's best for me?"

"Don't be too hard on her. She worries about you."

"Sure she does."

"She cares about you. Maybe you don't see it like I do. You're the only family she's got—the only family you've got. Don't shut her out."

What could I say? She didn't feel like a parent to me. If we'd met as strangers, we wouldn't even be friends.

"You know my mom better than I do?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you understand her. I've never had that ability."

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Why would I want to be around someone who tried to run my life, who put on her fake smile, lived in her perfect house, and pretended everything was okay between us?"

"I never said she was perfect, but she _is_ your mother. She cares about you. She stays up at night worrying about you. She might seem distant, but I know she loves you."

Brent hit on something I tried to ignore. My mother had never convinced me that she loved me. I was her obligation, just like I was my father's obligation.

"And you know I love you, too." He brushed a lock of hair away from my face. "And I love how your ears do that thing whenever you get embarrassed."

Of course, now would be the exact moment Kull decided to make his appearance, looming over us like the freaking Hulk. He kept his hands in his pockets, perhaps trying to appear laidback, though nothing could hide his warrior's scowl. I dreaded introducing the two, but now I couldn't avoid it.

"Brent, this is my friend, Kull."

Brent raised an eyebrow. "Kull?"

Kull extended his hand, which was big to enough to crush Brent's skull. I hadn't nicknamed him the Skullsplitter for nothing.

Brent stood. "Pleased to meet you."

"And you."

I held my breath as they shook hands. I hoped Kull wouldn't make a display.

"You must be one of Olive's patients?" Brent asked.

Kull's grip tightened. "Hardly."

"He's an associate," I clarified.

"Of course!" Brent answered with too much enthusiasm. "You speak with an accent. Irish? Australian?"

"Neither."

"I see. Another of Olive's mysteries."

Kull gave him the Skullsplitter glare. I was surprised Brent didn't wet himself.

"Well, Olive," Brent said as he pulled his hand away. His fingers were purple. "I should go. Call me whenever you're feeling up for a date." He put a lot of emphasis on that last word.

"Sure."

Brent gave Kull a curt nod and then walked away, his Italian-leather shoes sharp against the tiles.

" _He's_ the boyfriend you spoke of?" Kull said after Brent disappeared.

"Is something wrong?"

Kull looked at me as if I had "moron" written across my forehead. " _He's_ your boyfriend?" he repeated.

"Yes, _he's_ my boyfriend." My voice sounded more defensive than I'd planned. "He's a nice guy—opinionated sometimes. But his opinions are nothing compared to yours."

"Don't compare him to me."

I actually heard him growl. "You've just met him, and already you know his character?"

"I know when I see insincerity."

_Insincerity?_

"If he were insincere, I would have noticed after two years."

"That means nothing."

"This is not the time to psychoanalyze my boyfriend, Mr. Integrity. Any ideas on how to illegally remove that T-Rex? Also known as stealing?"

"Yes. It involves a wrecking ball, a forklift, an eighteen-wheel truck, and your magic mirror."

"Is that all?"

"That's the best I can do."

"You won't make it very far. I think someone might get curious when they see a huge wrecking ball aimed for the museum."

"There is another way."

"Oh?"

"It involves a couple spells. Shrinking spell, illusion spell. Think you can handle it?"

"I might. We'll have to come back when no one's around. We'll also have to get past security somehow." The spells wouldn't be difficult, but I wanted him to sweat a little.

"I'll handle security."

"Quietly?"

"Of course."

"Fine, but I have to check on Jeremiah first. We'll come back after I visit him."

"Visit him? I thought you were still looking for him."

"I'm looking for his dreamself. His body is still here on Earth. I also need to talk to his sister."

Kull stared with longing eyes at the T-Rex looming over us. "Very well. But I don't leave this planet until I've got that skeleton."

"You don't have to remind me."

# Chapter Twenty-Five

Nerves pinched my stomach as we pulled into Jeremiah's driveway. I wanted to see him again, but I also felt apprehensive about it. I couldn't imagine that his condition had improved. Seeing a grown person in a coma is one thing. Seeing a child that way is something I have issues with.

We climbed out of the car and walked up the footpath to the house. Weeds choked the yard. The toys and clutter on the porch had remained the same as last time.

I hesitated before I knocked on the door. It seemed too still, too quiet. What if something bad had happened to Jeremiah? I exhaled and knocked anyway.

Albert reminded me that silly premonitions pop inside my head all the time. _Don't worry so much_. My knotted insides didn't listen to him.

No one answered, and I knocked again. I tried the doorknob when I noticed the doorframe was busted and the locking mechanism had been stripped away. Odd.

"Mrs. Dickinson?" I called. "Hello?"

Breaking and entering isn't usually my thing, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Kull followed without a word. I recognized his quiet mode. Something bothered him, too. Maybe he sensed that same feeling of unease that nagged at me.

Silence cloaked the house. Sunlight filtered through the dingy dining room windows to illuminate the foyer. Broken toys, crusts of bread, and laundry littered the floor, but that was nothing new. Stagnant smells of urine and rotting food filled the house. _That_ was new.

I wrinkled my nose. "Mrs. Dickinson?" I called again. "Sissy? Anyone home?" Dodging piles of clutter, I walked slowly down the hall.

"It appears abandoned," Kull said as he followed me.

"Maybe they had an appointment or something." That nagging, nervous feeling got worse as I approached Jeremiah's bedroom.

I almost didn't open the door. My imagination went wild sometimes, especially when I was worried like this. I didn't want to see a child's corpse in that bed, but my brain conjured the image anyway. I knew Mrs. Dickinson would never let something like that happen, but what if something had happened to her, too?

Half against my will, I nudged the door open. Sunlight streamed over the rumpled Sponge Bob sheets. The smell almost knocked me over. Urine stained the floor and bed. Gross.

I swallowed my disgust and crossed to the bed. Empty. I prayed his foster mom had found someplace better to care for him and tried not to ponder the alternatives.

Footsteps came from the hall. Kull turned. His hand went to his knife.

Someone was in the house.

Kull peeked into the hallway. The footsteps stopped. I walked on quiet feet to stand beside him but heard nothing. We waited for several seconds, and then he opened the door.

We stared into an empty hallway.

Another sound—a door shutting. Sissy's room. "Follow me," I mouthed to Kull.

We crept down the hallway and stopped at the _Do Not Enter_ sign. The door swung open.

A butcher knife greeted me, attached to a bone-thin, pale-faced Sissy. She stared at us with eyes shadowed in dark circles. "Get out," she said in a hoarse voice.

"We're not here to hurt you."

She darted a nervous glance at Kull. "I said get out."

I ignored her demands. "I stopped by to check on your brother. Do you know where he is?"

"No."

"Are you here alone?"

The knife shook so hard I was surprised she didn't drop it. She swallowed before answering. "No."

"I can help your brother. Can you tell me where he is?"

"Stop asking questions. I said _get out_!"

She lunged for me, and I dodged to the side. Sissy tripped and almost landed on the knife. She rose onto her elbows but collapsed as she tried to stand. Her pink tank top exposed her protruding shoulder blades as she snatched the knife and crawled to the corner, where she crouched like a wounded animal, her eyes wide and dilated.

" _Leave,_ " she whispered.

"How long have you been alone?" I asked.

"Go away."

I pulled a granola bar from my pack. She looked at it with ravenous eyes. "Are you hungry?"

She licked her cracked lips. "Not interested."

"There's more where this came from. We're headed to lunch. You could come if you like."

"I'm not leaving," she said in a weak voice.

"It's up to you. Think about it." I turned to leave. I got halfway down the hall when the butcher knife plunked to the floor.

"Wait," she called. I stopped and let her come to us. "I'll come, but I won't tell you anything. And you never saw me. Got it?"

I raised an eyebrow.

" _Got it?_ " she repeated.

I wasn't in the habit of accepting demands from fourteen-year-olds, but I decided to compromise. "Fine, but you'll have to follow my rules. No cursing and no back talking. Got it?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."

Sissy opened a closet door and grabbed a hoodie that looked three sizes too large. When she pulled it over her head and let the hood conceal her face, it made me wonder who she was hiding from. Had she gotten into some kind of trouble? And why was she here alone? Where were Jeremiah and Mrs. Dickinson?

Those were questions I was not allowed to ask, but we'd see.

I'd never known a mouth that small could contain so many fries. I'd ordered one large fry but realized I should have ordered seven.

After ten minutes of devouring almost everything on the tray, Sissy looked up with her mouth full of food. "Thish is sho good."

"Glad you like it."

She actually smiled. It wasn't a big one, just a small crease of her mouth on one side, though I was positive it was the first time I'd ever seen her do it. The smile disappeared when she glanced at Kull.

He stood. "Excuse me, ladies," he said before heading to the bathroom.

Sissy watched him go with suspicious eyes. "So why is Thor following you around?"

_See? I'm not the only one who thinks the guy looks like the god of thunder._

"I owe him. He won't leave until he gets it."

Sissy raised an eyebrow.

"Not like that," I answered.

"Why do you owe him?"

"He helped me search for your brother's dreamsoul. I didn't find it, but I'm closer." I decided to unload on her. I told her about the Dreamthief, the Wult tombs, the goblins, and Mog's Keep. Either she would help me, or she wouldn't. I wanted to gauge her reaction and see if anything I spoke about seemed familiar to her.

The girl was good at keeping a straight face. Somewhere in life, she'd learned to hide her emotions. "And you think my brother is in that tower?"

"I'm certain of it."

"Can you get him out?"

I had no clue where to find it, but I wouldn't tell her that. "I was hoping you could help me."

She bit her lip. I saw her indecision. She knew something.

"Sissy," I said in my calm voice, "where is Jeremiah?"

She stared at the tray. Chatter in the restaurant drifted to us as she debated my question. Taking a deep breath, she stared out the window as she spoke.

"He got worse. They said it was his heart. I don't know. But they brought him to the hospital. My foster mom wouldn't let me come. She tried to make me stay at the neighbor's house."

"Did you run away?"

"No."

"Does your foster mom know where you are?"

"I hid when she came to the house. That bit—sorry, _witch_ —even called the cops. They couldn't find me. I'm good at disappearing when I need to." Her head jerked up. "You won't tell no one. Got it? I ain't never going back with that lady."

"You know she must be really upset."

"She isn't. She hates me."

Sissy didn't get it. She must have decided that no one loved her, even the people who cared for her. She trusted no one, and so she loved no one except her brother. If I could find him, I'd be saving more than one life.

"This may be hard to hear, but someday, you'll have to learn to trust someone. The world is full of bad people, but it's full of good people, too. Your foster mom cares for you, even if you can't see it."

I felt a little like Brent as I said that to her. Hadn't he said almost the same thing to me only a few hours ago?

She didn't answer, just stared out the window with those wide, brown eyes. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't until she decided to let me.

Kull returned with a tray of hot apple pies. The cinnamon smell filled the air.

Sissy stuffed a couple of pies in her hoodie's pockets before opening a box. She didn't cram it in her mouth, choosing to nibble at it instead, and keeping her eyes on Kull as she did.

"You are very brave to protect your brother," he said.

Sissy didn't answer.

"He must have a good soul."

She shrugged. "He's a brat sometimes."

"But I'm sure he loves you."

"He's my brother. Of course he loves me."

"My sisters are much like you. Sometimes I think I protect them, only to realize they protect me."

She glanced at his biceps. "Your sisters protect _you_? Please."

"Having physical strength isn't nearly as important as wisdom." He leaned a little closer. "They're smarter than me, but you're never to tell them that."

Sissy almost smiled. She took a bite of pie instead. "For a long time, it's been just Jeremiah and me. When bad things happened, I kept him safe, you know? Because I'm older. I said I'd never leave him. I promised him."

"It must be hard to be away from him," I said.

"It's not my fault," she snapped. "My mom..." Her eyes turned glossy with tears. " _Foster_ mom." She took a deep breath and stared at the tray instead. "If you could get him back and find a new home for us. Please."

She was opening up, and I didn't want to shoot her down. But I didn't want to make promises I couldn't keep, either. "Do you think taking him out of a real home would solve the problem?"

"It's not a real home. She doesn't listen to me. She spends all her time with the other kids. She won't even let me go out. Like, ever. I'm stuck there all the time."

It probably never would be a real home to her. She didn't know what a real home was. She had to live by rules. Typical teenager.

"Look, I can pass for sixteen, easy. If you could just vouch for me, or something, I could take care of Jeremiah. Better than _her,_ anyway."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

I decided to give it to her straight. Seemed like she needed a reality check. "Because Child Protective Services has a record of your birth certificate on file. Because you can't even take care of yourself. You're living in a filthy house. You have no food. You don't have a job. You don't have any money. Because I'd get thrown in jail for endangering children."

She crossed her arms. I hoped I hadn't pushed too hard, but she couldn't keep living like she was.

"I can take care of him. I swear. You don't even know me."

"I know how you've been living. Is that really the way you want your brother to live, too?"

Her mouth twitched. She looked ready to bolt.

"Look, I'll see what I can do to get you moved to another foster home. I can't promise anything, but I do have some clout with CPS. Before I do anything, I want you to give Mrs. Dickinson a second chance. She's got a lot on her plate. Most of her foster kids come from worse situations than yours."

"And they're all in jail."

She had a point. I knew of at least three of Mrs. Dickinson's stepkids who had permanent residence in the Texas state prison system. "But it's your turn to prove that some kids can turn out all right, even the ones who come from crummy homes. Give her a chance, Sissy."

"No way. She's psycho. Trust me, okay? People who—" she paused. "People who wear glasses that huge are messed up in the head."

I was certain she meant to say something else. I leaned forward. "Sissy, are you telling me everything?"

She swallowed. Her face paled. She was hiding something from me. I'd written her off as a cocky, self-absorbed teenager, but what if there were more to Sissy than I thought?

Her look of defiance returned. "I've told you everything."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She drew the word out, enunciating each syllable.

I sighed. "Then I can't help you."

"And I can't help you."

Another impasse. I felt ready to throw in the towel. Some of my patients were easy to work with, a session or two and they saw the light and everything was peachy. But I could tell that Sissy wasn't one of them. Sometimes stubbornness could be a good thing, but not in this situation.

Kull spoke up. "Your brother needs you. You aren't helping him by hiding. Be brave. Confront your foster mother. She'll listen if you speak to her." He said the word _speak_ with a reverent tone, and I knew exactly what he meant.

"He's right," I said. "Don't yell, don't freak out. Keep your cool, and she'll listen."

I expected a smart retort, but Sissy said nothing.

"We'll be with you," I said.

Still she didn't answer.

Sounds of laughter came from the play area. I watched a little boy, maybe four, jump off the slide and then run up the stairs for another turn. He grinned from ear to ear, not a care in the world, completely oblivious to the ugliness and hatred out there.

"Promise you won't leave me?" She looked at me with those eyes, and I knew I couldn't lie to her.

"I promise."

She exhaled, sounding defeated, sounding tired. "He's at Hermann Memorial. Room nine-seventeen."

# Chapter Twenty-Six

Sissy didn't speak as we drove to the hospital. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows, but Sissy pulled her hoodie closer. She looked tired, the sort of tired you'd see on those who'd been through the hard knocks of life. Not the sort of look a girl her age should have.

I wondered if I'd looked that way at her age. I shouldn't have. I'd had a good life. But moving from one world to another, from a parent who'd listened to me and instructed me and loved me to one who didn't display emotions had taken its toll on my fragile self-esteem.

I'd never felt as if my mother loved me. I'm sure Sissy must have had a similar experience. Although Mrs. Dickinson had given her food and clothes and shelter, I wondered if she was able to reproduce the sort of love Sissy needed—the love of a parent.

In some ways, Sissy reminded me of myself. Damaged.

I glanced at Kull as he fixated on the skyscrapers. He looked at this new world with one part curiosity and one part suspicion. What kind of childhood had he had? Most of the time, he put on an easygoing, carefree façade. But the few times he'd let his guard down, I had also seen pain, like his sister. A warrior's life couldn't be an easy one, and soon he'd have the responsibility of two nations on his shoulders.

When we arrived at the hospital, Sissy refused to leave the car. It took fifteen minutes of begging, plus the promise of more apple pies, for her to finally climb out. At one point, I'd felt tempted to let the warrior wrestle her out, but I resisted. _How do parents do this?_

We made our way to the ninth floor, where the nurse at the desk pointed us in the direction of Jeremiah's room. I thanked her, and we walked down the sterile white hallways.

Call me weird, but I actually liked hospitals. They got a bad rap sometimes—probably because normal folks couldn't afford them—and not all hospitals were created equal, but without them, a lot of sick people would die. In Faythander, we didn't have hospitals, and I wondered if sometimes people took them for granted.

My rubber-soled Docs made little sound as we walked down one hallway and up another. Pictures of stereotypical, pastoral scenes filled the walls. Meant to be calming, I supposed.

Sissy looked anything but calm. Her hands shook, a fine sheen of sweat coated her brow, and she looked ready to vomit. Good thing we were in a hospital.

We stopped at the wide wooden door leading to Jeremiah's room. I reached out to knock, but Sissy grabbed my arm.

"I can't," she said. "I can't go in there."

"But he's your brother. Don't you want to see him?"

"I—" she swallowed.

To me, she didn't look afraid. That look seemed more like the face of a guilty conscience.

"I don't like to see him that way."

Something else was wrong, something other than her overprotective foster mom and sick brother, but I wasn't sure what. "He needs you."

"Maybe."

I scrutinized her. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you sweating?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

She swallowed. "I just have a hard time looking at him like that."

"I understand. But are you sure there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

Tears formed in her eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"What wasn't?"

"He got sick, you know? Right after I done something real bad to him."

"What did you do?"

She shook her head.

"You can tell me."

She exhaled.

"I know this is hard, but you'll feel better after you tell someone."

She nodded. It took her a few tries, but she finally found words. "We... we never had toys. At Christmas, people usually gave us socks or something. But for his birthday, my foster mom got him some LEGOs. I'd never seen him so happy. He played with them all the time. Couple weeks ago, he went in my bedroom and left them on my floor. I hated those things when I stepped on them." A tear broke free.

"I threw 'em away. I meant to go back later and get them out of the trash, but the trash truck came already. When he found out..." A sob caught in her throat, "...he started crying. He got sick after that."

I hugged her, bony shoulders and all. "Sissy, this wasn't your fault."

"It is! You didn't see the look on his face when he found out what I'd done. Like I'd betrayed him or something."

"You're wrong. I know it's hard for you to understand, but he's under a spell. Whoever did this to him is sick and depraved. This had nothing to do with you. Let me help him. I promise, you'll have your brother back."

She pulled back. Tears stained her cheeks. "I already tried. I did everything I could. He can't be helped—he's stuck like that. He's never coming back."

"That's not true. I haven't given up on him, have I?"

She stared as if she saw me for the first time. "No."

I felt like I was finally getting somewhere. If she had information that she wasn't telling me, now would be the time to find out. But how did I connect with her?

The way she stood there, arms crossed, tears in her eyes, reminded me of her mother. Perhaps mentioning her mom would be how I could finally get her to see reason. "Sissy, did you know that your mom and I were best friends in junior high?"

She looked up.

"Shawna was always laughing. She was one of the happiest people I knew. And she had a kind heart—she'd do anything for anyone."

Sissy swallowed. "I don't remember her much."

"She cared for you and your brother. She loved you two more than anything and would've done anything to protect you."

Sissy wiped away a tear. "She would?"

"I remember when she asked me to be Jeremiah's godmother. She was in rehab, and I'd gone to visit her. She still had that smile, even though she was too weak to walk. Do you know what she told me? She said that she knew her two babies were special, that they could do great things if they were given a chance. And you know what? Your mother was right. You and Jeremiah are both special."

Her eyes met mine. She looked on the verge of telling me something—something that could change the course of Jeremiah's future. I felt it deep inside that there was more to Sissy than she let on. If she would just open up.

I took her hand. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

A sob shook her body. She shook her head. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?"

"Because I—they would—." She closed her eyes. "I'd like to see my brother now."

_They?_

"Sissy, is someone trying to hurt you?"

"No." She pinched her lips. "No." She stood tall. "Please, let me see Jeremiah."

The sincerity in her voice was something I'd never heard. I wanted to press her more. I felt like I'd gotten so close to some hidden secret that could change everything. Maybe letting her see Jeremiah would be the best way for me to find out.

I nodded to his door. "You want me to go first?"

She exhaled. "Yeah."

I opened the door. Smells of rubbing alcohol stung my nostrils. I'd never liked that smell. It reminded me of needles. Sissy grabbed my hand as we passed through the entryway and into the room.

My heart caught in my throat.

Jeremiah lay on the bed. Tubes ran out of his nose, his mouth. Beeping noises came from the machines attached to him. How had he gotten this bad? Why hadn't Dr. Hill called me? Seeing him like this was harder than I'd thought it would be. It must've been worse for Sissy.

Her hand clenched mine, strong for someone so frail. Kull stayed by the door.

Sissy approached the bed, and I followed.

"Hey, Jer," she said in a tiny voice. She rested her hand on his blanket. His eyelids fluttered, still dreaming. "It's Sissy. I know it's been a while since I seen you."

Beeping sounds and an occasional sniffle filled the silence. I grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to her.

She took it without looking at me, her gaze fixed on her brother.

"Is he gonna die?" she asked me matter-of-factly.

How could I answer her? The only person she had in the world was near death, and I was nowhere close to finding a cure. What could I say?

"He's strong," I said. "He's got a strong spirit, a strong soul. If anyone can beat this, he can."

"I don't want him to die."

I rested my hand on her shoulder. "I know."

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?"

"I'm doing all I can. But I can't do it without your help. If there's anything you know, you have to tell me."

She stared at her brother, and her face, usually a mask of defiance, was filled with anguish.

"Let me help him. Tell me what you know."

She inhaled a deep breath. "If I tell you, will you promise not to tell no one?"

"I promise."

"Mrs. Dickinson," she said. "You should speak to her. She knows more than you think."

"Where is she?"

She crossed her arms to keep her hands from trembling. Her pale face turned ash-white. She looked ready to heave.

"Sissy, you're safe here. No one can hurt you. Where is Mrs. Dickinson?"

" _At the foster home_ ," she whispered.

"Why did she go there?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I... they would—"

Kull took a step forward. I don't think he meant to intimidate her, but she took one glance at him and then bolted. One second, she stood by the bed, and the next, she was dashing toward the hallway. Kull stood by the door. When she rushed past him, he crossed his arms.

"Catch her," I shouted.

She made it out the door. He didn't move.

I rushed to the door. "What's wrong with you? Catch her!"

"Let her run."

" _What?_ "

I hurried out the doorway.

_Let her run? Really?_

Sissy flew past the nurse's station. She knocked over a food cart in the process. Applesauce splattered the floor.

"Whoa!" one of the nurses called.

"Sorry," I yelled as I ran past.

The elevators loomed ahead. I heard a ding, and then Sissy disappeared inside. I could make it. The doors were closing, but I could make it.

The doors slid shut. I jabbed the button. It glowed bright orange, but the doors remained closed. I cursed under my breath.

"Trouble?"

I turned and saw the nurse staring at me. She wore green scrubs and had a round face that looked used to smiling. "Don't worry about it. This kind of stuff happens more than you'd think. I'll call security. They'll catch her."

"Thanks."

_Security?_ Did I really want them involved? I punched the button again, harder this time, hoping that would make the elevator gods cooperate.

Kull tromped toward us. The nurse stared at him. Her eyes turned dreamy, though she took a cautious step back. "It looks as if you've brought your own security."

Fat lot of good it did me. He didn't even catch her when he had the chance.

"Security will call when they've got her," the nurse reassured me.

"No offense, but she might be harder to catch than they think. She's pretty good at hiding when she needs to."

The nurse gave me a condescending smile. "We're used to this sort of thing, sweetheart."

I ground my teeth. Did she really call me sweetheart? And why on earth wouldn't these doors open?

"I'll take the stairs," I said and headed for the stairwell. Kull stayed behind. Good riddance. Couldn't even catch a miniature fourteen-year-old girl.

Sissy had evaded both her foster mom and the police. She could probably hide out in a hospital forever and never be found. And Kull had just let her go? What was wrong with the guy?

Wandering the halls made me realize what a maze this place was. My heart pounded as I raced from one floor to the next. The halls and stairs became a blur. I couldn't see straight anymore. A couple people stopped and asked if I needed help. I gave them Sissy's description.

I'd made it to the fifth floor when an announcement came over the loudspeaker, detailing that they had a Code Adam and giving Sissy's description.

When I reached the third floor, I left the stairwell. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up this pace. I followed the hallway and found a waiting area. Trying to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall. I'd lost her. I could play hide and seek for the rest of the week and never find her. I had two choices: keep chasing after Sissy, or let the big guys handle it. The thought crossed my mind that I should go back to Jeremiah's room, but I decided against it. There was a small chance that Sissy would end up back there, anyway. Maybe I should wait her out.

I felt selfish for not going back with Jeremiah, but seeing him in that vegetative state was more than I could handle.

_No, I can't go back._

I'd have to wait her out.

Soft amber light glowed from lamps that illuminated the waiting room's sofas. I fell onto one of the seats, and the weight of the past few weeks crashed with me.

I felt alone.

I shouldn't. I had friends, family. But still I felt as if I were the only person in the world trying to save my godson.

Bill Clinton told me not to feel that way, but pushing those kinds of thoughts out of my head wasn't always easy.

I'd failed Jeremiah. I'd lost Sissy. Maybe I should throw in the towel and call it quits.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I grabbed a tissue off one of the tables and blotted my eyes. I hated crying. It made me feel pitiful and weak, but at the moment, I didn't know what else to do.

_Some tough and powerful practitioner I've become._

I felt grateful that no one was here to see me—especially one person in particular.

Al told me to pull it together.

After a few minutes of self-pity, I listened. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. A phone book sat on a table, and I grabbed it. This could accomplish two things: keep my mind occupied, and search for the elusive Mr. Green.

My heart sank as I searched the listings. Two-and-a-half pages of _Green._ I counted ninety-two in the Houston metro area. Finding Mr. Green was almost as hard as finding Sissy.

How long would it take me to call them all? What would I say? That I'd met him in a fairy world dreamland?

Sure. I would definitely get tossed in the psych ward—a place I'd spent time in before, but never as an actual resident.

I scanned through the listing of Greens, hoping the powers of the universe would illuminate the right one. No such thing happened. I was on my own.

"Found you."

I looked up to see the Skullsplitter himself. He had some nerve.

"Got tired of sticking your thumbs up your posterior while teenage girls escaped you?"

He sat down across from me. "You're angry."

"What gave it away?"

"You're cute when you're angry."

I gripped the phone book so tight my knuckles turned white. Nothing ever turned out how it should. Maybe I shouldn't let him get under my skin—he had risked life and limb for me after all—but right now, all I wanted was to clout him with the phone book. If we hadn't been wasting time at that stupid museum, I could have found Sissy sooner. I could have been there for Jeremiah sooner.

"They'll find her," he said.

"Will they? This isn't Faythander. Humans aren't used to tracking like you are. They don't have magic to help them; they don't have elven technology. She could hide out in a place like this for weeks."

"Why do you concern yourself with her? She isn't your offspring."

"Someone has to take responsibility for her."

"Why should it be you?"

I stared him down. Was he serious? I guess that's what distinguished him from the rest of the human race. I'd started to think of him as an equal, but in reality, he was a warrior. Searching for stray kids was beneath him, but maybe I could explain it in a way he would understand.

"Sissy's mom was my best friend when we were younger. Before she died, I gave her my promise to watch over her kids. I refuse to break my promise to her. I can't let her down."

"But you burden yourself too much. If you truly wish to protect the children, you'll have to learn to let others help you."

"Kull, I'm not like you. I don't live in a castle surrounded with family and friends and servants willing to come to my aid at a moment's notice. I live alone. I never see my family. The dragons have bigger problems. I'm by myself."

"You aren't right now."

Why did he have to sound so sincere?

"And you'll be married soon. You'll have two kingdoms to rule. I appreciate your help, but honestly, how long can it last?"

He touched my hand. It was such a small gesture, but the warmth of his skin calmed my thumping heart. I exhaled, and my pent-up frustrations went with it. _How did he do that?_ I would've blamed magic, but knew it couldn't be. This was a power stronger than magic.

"I'm here now."

Something inside screamed for me to push him away. The more attached I got to him, the harder it would be to let go. But he was right. He was here. No one else was. I cursed myself for being so vulnerable. This was my own fault.

He squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes.

He had gorgeous eyes the crystal-blue color of glacier ice—cold, yet comforting at the same time. I imagined what it would be like to wake up every morning and stare into those eyes, to feel his arms wrapped around me.

"Your hands are cold," he said.

"They're fine."

"They're trembling."

"Trembling?" Next I'd have to tell him he was a scoundrel and remind him that I happened to like nice men.

"Your choice of a companion isn't right for you," he said.

_When did we get on that subject?_

"Brent is not my companion. I could say the same thing about your choice in companions."

"Euralysia is an acceptable choice."

"She's also a powerful sorceress. She's manipulating you."

He laughed. He didn't believe me. _Figures_.

"Are you sure she loves you?"

"Love is not the most important factor in a relationship like ours. We enjoy being in one another's presence. We communicate effectively. We both count ourselves fortunate. In my situation, would you choose someone else?" he asked.

I hadn't thought of it. Would I condemn two nations to war just because I wasn't able to marry someone I wasn't head-over-heels in love with? He said they got along, what more could he ask for?

"I suppose not."

"I don't have a choice. But you do."

_Since when had he become my therapist?_

"I'm happy with my choice." My voice sounded flat. I hadn't meant it to.

"Why do you choose to stay with him?"

His question made me pause.

_Because he's normal and I'm not. Because my mother likes him. Because, in her opinion, he's the only good choice I've ever made. Because I need stability in my life._

None of those answers were good ones. Still, I liked Brent. Probably didn't love him, though. "All right, you've got me. I don't have a good reason to stay with him. Why do you think I do?" I was a fool for asking it. I should have kept my mouth shut.

He leaned closer. If I looked up, I'd have to look into his eyes. I didn't want to.

"Because he doesn't love you."

_What?_ Of course he loved me. Why on earth would he stick with me if he didn't? What was love, anyway, except caring for the person you're with? He _did_ love me. Kull was absolutely wrong.

"He doesn't love me." Saying it out loud rang with truth, as if church bells pealed when I said it.

No. No! Why was I thinking like this? If Brent didn't love me, then where did that leave me? What did that mean for my future? It meant my mother was right, that I'd spend the rest of my days alone in my tiny apartment. At least I had Han. He had a good ten years left.

No—I refused to let my thoughts go there. It made me feel frightened, and most of all, alone. "You're wrong. You don't know Brent. You don't even know me."

"I know when I see indifference. And I know when I see attraction." His eyes simmered like two stars caught in a storm cloud. They would've burned a hole through me had I held his gaze.

"Drop it," I told him. "I don't want your advice. You're marrying someone you don't know—don't even realize how dangerous she is. Leave me alone."

He dipped his head in a courteous gesture. He didn't say anything, but the smoldering look in his eyes told me he wasn't done with me.

My heart pounded. Sweat beaded on my neck. I wished he would go away, but I was stuck with him for another day at least.

Kull rose.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

He turned. "As you said, humans in this world aren't skilled trackers. Fortunately, you brought one with you." He smiled and walked away.

I unclenched my fists, only now realizing that I'd been pressing my fingernails into the palms of my hands. I attempted a deep, cleansing breath. I still didn't know what to make of Kull. At times, I felt ready to kill him. Other times, I wanted to kiss him.

The ping of the elevator announced its arrival, and Kull disappeared inside. I mulled over our conversation.

_Because he doesn't love you._

Rubbish. He didn't know me. He wasn't a trained counselor. Still, his words rang with truth whether I wanted to accept them or not.

To prove him wrong, I grabbed my cell out of my pocket and dialed Brent. Maybe Brent didn't love me, but maybe it was my own fault.

It rang several times and then clicked over to voicemail. Brent's recorded voice came over the line, followed by a beep.

"Hey, it's me. I'm ready to take you up on that date. Love you."

I hung up before I said anything else I'd regret.

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

I made two more phone calls after I dialed Brent—one to Dr. Hill, and another to the foster home. Neither one answered. Strange, especially for Dr. Hill. Unless he was deathly ill or abducted by aliens, I couldn't imagine any reason he wouldn't pick up. He was like a machine. The guy never slept. Then again, maybe he was with a patient. Albert Einstein reminded me to always think of the simplest solutions first.

Still, I couldn't understand why he hadn't called me about Jeremiah. After this Sissy drama was over, assuming Kull could find her, I knew where to go next.

I made my way to the main lobby on the first floor. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the giant glass walls, painting shades of amber across the granite tiles. People came and went, their footsteps echoing through the domed room.

I closed my eyes. Sunlight warmed my face. Weary and bone tired, I tried to pull it together. So much needed to be done. So much still didn't make sense. I wished the universe would drop a giant compass in my lap that pointed to _Find Jeremiah's Dreamsoul Here_. Or perhaps a yellow-brick road would appear. At this point, I'd take any clue I could get.

Yells broke up my thoughts as several security guards rushed through the lobby. Behind the large marble pillars, there was a commotion. I had trouble seeing it, but from the high-pitched screeches, I had a pretty good idea what was happening.

I made my way around the pillars to find Sissy held in a bear hug by an unusually calm-looking Wult warrior. She thrashed her head back and knocked him square in the chest. Kull didn't flinch. Sissy, however, let out a scream loud enough to rattle glass.

"Let her go!" one of the security guards yelled. He pulled out a baton.

Kull raised an eyebrow at the weapon. "I believe you are looking for her," Kull answered. He lifted her head so they could see her face.

The guards stopped. Sissy's yells turned to curses as one of the guards pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke quietly into it. I couldn't hear the conversation, but after a moment, he clicked it back into his belt and walked to Kull.

"Sorry about the mix-up. We'll take her," the guard said.

"You will not!" Sissy dug her heel into Kull's foot. He didn't seem to notice.

"It looks as if an AMBER Alert has been issued for someone with your description," the guard said. "You don't mind if we ask you a few questions, do you?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Sissy ground out.

The guard motioned to the other officers. They fanned out, slowly surrounding her. "Sissy Benson, right?" the guard asked. "This will be easier if you don't fight us."

She spouted indecencies that no fourteen-year-old should have used or known. I had trouble picturing all the anatomical impossibilities she shouted. A few more steps, and the guards closed in.

"Sir, you can let her go," the officer said to Kull.

"Are you certain about that?" he asked as Sissy flailed.

"Of course."

Kull shrugged, then handed her over. Sissy sank her teeth into the guard's hand. He squealed, and then the gaggle of officers surrounded her. Sissy fought like a cornered feral cat. In the commotion, I heard a loud pop, a scream, and then Sissy hit the floor.

One of the officers stood over her with a Taser gun.

Tears leaked onto Sissy's cheeks as her gaze met mine. She shot me a look of pure malice. All that work in earning her trust was lost.

_Oh, Sissy. Why can't you ever do it the easy way?_

She let out a scream so gut wrenching, so hate filled, I had to look away. I'd lost my chance with her. Anything else she knew, she'd never tell me.

The guards hauled her to her feet and half-dragged, half-carried her out of the building. My hands shook as I watched her leave. My heart pounded. The same feeling, I supposed, a parent would have at seeing their own child being hauled away. A tight knot formed in my stomach. It shouldn't have ended like this.

Kull made his way toward me. "A Wult child would have been locked in the dungeons for two weeks for acting as she has."

"She'll go to juvie for a while. I'm not sure the dungeons are much different."

"She deserves what she gets."

"I guess so."

Since when had I become so softhearted? I thought of Jeremiah, alone in that hospital room, and realized Sissy may be the only person besides me who really cared about him. Mrs. Dickinson was MIA. I knew she cared for him, but where was she? Shouldn't she be with him? Maybe Jeremiah had gotten lost in the cracks. Maybe Sissy had, too.

I pulled out my phone and looked up the directions for the foster home. The office was in one of those huge cathedrals downtown. I headed for the door, and Kull followed. I knew I should have thanked him for finding Sissy, but in reality, it bothered me that she'd been hauled off.

"You're quiet," Kull said as we crossed the parking lot.

"Yeah, there's not much to talk about."

"You lost your client's foster child, and there's nothing to talk about?"

I exhaled a frustrated sigh. "I know you're trying to help, but I'd like to sort this out by myself for awhile."

"Fair enough."

The car ride was silent, uncomfortably so. I turned on the radio just for noise. I didn't suppose a Wult warrior would understand why he'd upset me. Turmoil racked my brain. If I didn't find another clue to Jeremiah's location soon, I felt like I'd start screaming.

I had to find Mrs. Dickinson. She may not know much, but she had been the closest person to Jeremiah when he'd gone into the coma. Plus, Sissy hated her. I wanted to know why.

Dusk approached as I parked in front of the cathedral, the kind that looked more at home on the road to Canterbury than in the midst of the sprawling Houston metropolis. The sun sank behind the tall spires, casting chilly, dark shadows across the street. I glanced at the clock on the console. 6:08. Would anyone be around to answer my questions? Was Mrs. Dickinson still here?

We exited the car. Kull stared at the towering cathedral. A haunted look crossed his face, and he didn't move as I walked up the narrow cobbled path.

"Are you coming?" I asked.

A flock of pigeons flew from the towers, their beating wings reminding me of the sound of bats. I'd never been inside the place, just gawked at it from the highway. I wasn't sure when the cathedral had been built, but it looked like a construction from the early 1900's. Houston was an oil town back then—a rough place to live, with segregation in high swing. I'm sure this church had seen its fair share of scandals.

I wish I'd known more about the foster home, but as I entered through the carved wooden doors, I realized I wasn't I even sure who to ask for.

The smell of old wood and floor polish greeted us as we crossed through the foyer and into the main chapel. A wrought-iron staircase wound to a balcony overlooking the first floor with rows of doors lining the back wall. This place looked even bigger on the inside. I wondered how I would find the foster home office. Floorboards creaked underfoot until we made it to the altar at the front. A sister entered through a door on the left and greeted us with a warm smile.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for the foster home director. Is he here?"

She pointed to a door on the balcony. "The director isn't usually here this late, but you're welcome to check."

"Thank you," I said and headed for the staircase. Kull stalked behind me, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.

Evening light spilled through the stained-glass windows, painting rainbow shades across the oaken pews and red-carpeted floor. I had always felt at peace inside churches, though I'd never attended a service. My mom had never gone. We usually went to the mall on Sundays, spending hours in one of those overpriced boutiques.

We found the stairs and climbed to the top, our footsteps loud in the silent chapel. Doors lined the hallway to our left, and I found the one marked _St. John's Children's Rescue_. I knocked lightly on the door and waited.

Kull shifted behind me, and I noticed the way he stared around the place, his eyes wide and intense with wonder, like a child's. The myriad evening light did interesting things to his golden hair and strong jaw line, almost as if I stared at someone more than human. I could easily picture him with a crown and sword. Seeing him like that made me remember who he was, but more importantly, who I was.

He was a crowned prince, the future leader of two nations. I was no one, a simple spellcaster who had been rejected by my own parents.

The door opened, and I pushed my pity party aside. A young redheaded woman greeted us with a smile and ushered us inside the office. The room was small, decorated with a few framed diplomas. The walls were white, the floor gray, creating a sterile, lifeless feeling. A desk occupied the center of the space.

"I'm Melanie," said the girl as she took a seat behind the desk. She wore a scarlet sweater and plaid skirt. With her hair done up on her head and her black-frame glasses accentuating her high cheekbones, she reminded me of a nerdy, semi-attractive librarian. She motioned to two chairs opposite the desk.

"Are you interested in becoming foster parents?" she asked us. She passed a business card across the table. "We have excellent resources for parents. Our foster children come from all walks of life. The option to adopt is always a possibility for those who qualify. Our agency doesn't discriminate on basis of race, religion, or national creed." She lifted an eyebrow at Kull. "The application process is simple if you're interested."

"Thank you," I told her and took the card. What the heck, maybe I'd be lonely enough one of these days and adopt someone to share in my misery. "But we're looking for one of your foster parents—Mrs. Dickinson. We were told she would be here."

"Oh." Melanie's face fell. I realized they probably didn't get a lot of applicants. "She left some while ago. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Do you know where she went?"

"No, sorry."

Stuck again. Tracking this lady down was harder than I'd realized. I stuffed the card in my pocket and stepped toward the door.

"Give Mrs. Dickinson my regards when you see her," Melanie called after us.

I turned. "Regards for her foster son?" I clarified.

"Yes. It's such a shame what's happening to everyone."

"To everyone?" Kull asked before I could.

The foster children," Melanie explained.

"Is something wrong with them?"

"You haven't heard? It's been all over the news."

"I've been out of the country."

"The children are falling into comas. No one knows why, not even the doctors. It's a real shame."

"And all of them have the same symptoms?"

She nodded. An image popped into my head of all those children huddled on that lifeless plain where Jeremiah had been, haunted by the Dreamthief. The office seemed to spin around me as the truth sank in. It wasn't just Jeremiah anymore. It wasn't just the children from Geth's camp. If I didn't stop the Dreamthief, he would take more and more children. How many? I didn't want to know the answer.

Children. How could someone become so depraved as to hurt children? Whoever I was dealing with didn't have a soul.

I felt a steady hand on my shoulder. The spinning room slowed a little.

"Can you tell us any more about the children?" Kull asked. "Where they come from? What they have in common?"

She shook her head. "There doesn't seem to be any connection."

"Except that they're all children from this foster home." His voice had that warrior tone. Melanie shrank behind the desk.

"Yes, there is that."

"Do you know of anyone here who would want to harm children?" he asked.

"No," she said curtly.

"No one? Don't you think it's strange that all the children have this foster home in common?" I asked.

"We're a reputable home. We screen all our families thoroughly."

"And what about the employees?" Kull asked.

Her cheeks reddened. "Are you implying something?"

Was he? He was being overly bold, in my opinion. And rude. What was he getting at? Melanie didn't deserve his Skullsplitter demeanor.

She rose and gave him a hard stare. "As I said earlier, we're a reputable home. People from all over the world—"

"You're lying."

"Excuse me?"

"You're lying. The documents on the walls are false, and your left eye twitches when you lie. So tell me, Melanie." He leaned forward. "Who are you really?"

"You're insane."

"Perhaps."

"This is harassment."

"I don't think so."

She turned to me. "I'm sorry, but you should leave."

I looked from Kull to Melanie, fairly certain that my Wult sidekick had lost it. How on earth could he know the diplomas were fake? Had he even _heard_ of a diploma? And if Melanie's left eye twitched, I had no idea. I couldn't see her eyes that well from this distance. How could he? He must be bluffing, trying to get her to admit to something. If so, I'd play along.

"He's right," I told Melanie. "The only connection between those kids is this foster home. So what's really going on?"

She flexed her jaw. On such a sweet face, the movement looked almost animalistic.

"I'll ask you one more time to get out," she said with forced calmness.

"And if we don't?" I asked.

"Then I call the cops."

"You wouldn't," Kull answered. "The authorities are the last people you want snooping around." He placed his hands on the desk and leaned close enough to whisper. "You know who I am, don't you?"

Her face paled. She swallowed as she stared at the warrior. And then, something happened that I didn't expect. Her peaches-and-cream voice turned to a hiss. " _Wult scum._ "

She lunged so fast I only saw a blur. Talons wrapped around Kull's throat as Melanie transformed. Her skin grayed, morphed from plump, human flesh to the sinewy, leather hide of a goblin. The creature still wore Melanie's red sweater and plaid skirt, which I found disturbing on the goblin's body.

Kull batted her away as if she were a gnat, then stood over her. Welts rose from a gash in his neck, but he didn't seem to notice. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I'll never tell you." She lunged at him, her talons aimed for his face. I heard a ripping sound as the creature gouged his neck again. He knocked her backward, but she didn't seem to notice as she hurled herself at him for another attack.

He darted to the side, but the goblin followed. She leapt so fast I barely followed the movement. Kull knocked her backward again, but not before she lashed another mark across his cheek. The goblin regained its footing, pounced, and knotted her grimy fingers around Kull's throat.

As if by instinct, magic swelled inside me. I needed to concentrate my attack so I wouldn't harm Kull. I racked my brain, searching for a word that would accomplish what I needed.

_Flame._

A thin line of blue fire erupted from my fingertips and hit the goblin. The creature fell back with a howl of pain.

Kull's face looked absolutely primal, more beast than human, as he crushed his heel into the goblin's leg. I heard a pop—not a loud sound, but the definite sound of bones breaking—and wondered how goblins handled broken bones.

She squealed with pain and grabbed her leg.

"Why are you in Earth Kingdom? Who are you?" he yelled.

The howling continued. She writhed on the floor until her screams turned to moans.

Finally, the creature looked up and locked its black, orb-like eyes on the warrior. "Theht will return. You shall die. You all shall die." Its gaze locked on me.

Kull knelt and grabbed her neck in a chokehold. He used her turtleneck sweater to guard his hands. "How did you get here?"

The goblin writhed but didn't answer.

"Who sent you here?"

"You shall... die."

His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened.

"You... think you know... everything. You're wrong!"

"Where are those children? What are you doing with them?"

"I'll die... first," the creature gagged.

"No. But you will wish you were dead."

"No." The goblin's writhing turned frantic as it clawed at Kull's wrists. Goblin-Melanie flicked its snakelike tongue and lashed at Kull's hands. He jabbed his knee into her sternum. She writhed beneath him.

"How did you get here?" he demanded. "Who sent you?"

The creature gagged. A deep gurgling rose from the back of its throat as it gasped for air. Its eyes bulged. Its writhing lasted only a few seconds, though to me it felt like hours.

"Stop," it whispered. "Stop... please!"

"Tell me what I want to know."

"I... won't."

"Tell me."

I shuddered at the sound of his voice. It wasn't the sound of violence or anger, but the calm voice of authority, of the surety that he meant what he said. "Who sent you here?" he repeated.

The creature spasmed, its entire body racked from the violent motion. Its eyes turned glassy, transforming from black to silvery-gray. "Dream..." it whispered.

I knelt beside Kull. I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. This goblin had crossed from its own realm into Earth, posed as a human, and helped take part in the abduction of little children, all for purposes of bringing an evil being back to our planet. Goblins are shy and reclusive. To be this bold, it must've had a good reason.

"Did the Dreamthief send you here?"

It looked at me, its eyes glazed, and nodded.

"Is the Dreamthief a mortal person in disguise?"

Another nod.

"What is her true identity?"

It shook its head.

" _Who?_ " Kull asked.

It squirmed but didn't attempt to break free. "Deathbringer. You will fail. Your world... will crumble. Ruin to you... to your children."

I ignored its threats. "Do you know where Mog's Keep is?"

Her eyes bugged out. Her mouth parted, but no words came. Kull relaxed his grip.

"Speak, goblin," Kull said.

It gasped, choking on yellow goop that clung to its cracked lips. I wrinkled my nose as the smell of bile filled the room.

"Mog's Keep," it whispered in a hoarse, raspy voice. "I know where it is."

Maybe the creature had finally come to its senses, realizing that the Wult would kill it soon; perhaps it had decided to save its own life by answering our questions. I couldn't blame the creature. Kull could be a persuasive motivator.

"In the goblin lands?" I asked.

It nodded. "The northern peninsula. None go there. It is protected. You will never enter."

The northern peninsula—that was more info than I'd gotten so far. Time to keep pushing. "Is my godson there?"

It nodded.

"Is he alive?"

Another nod.

"Where are the other children?"

"With him. Stolen... by the Regaymor. They will die soon."

My stomach churned. After everything I'd been through, I didn't need to hear that. "When?"

"Soon," it answered.

I wanted to kill the creature. I wanted to tear it to pieces, to make it suffer. But that would accomplish nothing.

"How do I get to him?"

"None go there. You will never find him." The goblin's shoulders slouched. The muscles in her face relaxed. It was such a hideous creature, as if it had evolved for the specific purpose of being abhorrent to humans. Everything that made a person who they were, it lacked—the face of a snake, the skin of a corpse—I had trouble looking at it without feeling the urge to flee.

"Find... the magic."

"What magic?" I asked.

The goblin made a sound. At first I thought the thing was crying, but then I realized it was a laugh, a horrible, pain-inducing sound that made my skin crawl. The creature died making that sound. When the light finally burned out of its eyes, its face stayed frozen in a mocking expression.

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

I searched every inch of that office. With all we'd been through, all the places I'd traveled, how could the goblins be so close? I felt like a failure, and worse, I knew my godson would die soon.

Choking back tears was never easy. I did the best I could as I rummaged through drawers and filing cabinets, looking for any other clues to the whereabouts of my godson.

Nothing.

It all looked so frustratingly normal.

I dropped to the floor and leaned against one of the too-sterile walls. Kull stood at the desk, leafing through a stack of papers.

"It's useless," I said.

"A warrior never admits defeat."

"Guess you haven't noticed that I'm no warrior."

He raised one of his bleach-blond eyebrows. "You are, Olive. You've only got to realize it."

I pressed a hand to my forehead. So much time lost. Every time we got close to finding Jeremiah, we took three steps back. And now it wasn't just my godson or Geth's children, but other children from Earth as well. How many children had they taken?

Kull gave up the search and collapsed beside me. "Nothing," he said. "Whoever they are, they cover their tracks well."

I racked my brain, trying to come up with a way to make sense of my situation.

"The dream catcher," I finally said. "It's the only clue we have left. I'll cast the spell in the morning, and then we find the Dreamthief."

"Are you sure it will work?"

I wasn't. "Dark magic is dangerous, to put it lightly. It's unpredictable. And I don't know much about it. But if I find out who created the dream catcher, we'll be one step closer to finding Jeremiah's captors."

"And when do we go after the dragon's skeleton?"

I eyed him. _Really? After all this?_

"Kull—"

"You made a promise."

"I know."

"You must keep your half of the bargain, no matter how unpleasant. This is the Wults' way."

Should I remind him that I wasn't a Wult? Would he care?

"This isn't a matter of keeping a bargain. It's a matter of life and death. If I use my time stealing that skeleton, my godson could die."

He locked his jaw and didn't answer, as if thinking up a rebuttal. I knew Kull. He'd never let it go. Honor meant more to him than life.

He rubbed his cheek. Dark blood pooled from a scratch and dripped down his neck.

"I can heal you if you'd like."

He shrugged. "It is of little consequence."

I pulled out a napkin and wiped his cheek. Blisters surrounded the shallow gash. "You'll scar."

"It will match the rest."

I wiped off the blood as best as I could. The ticking of a clock filled the silence. I thought of Jeremiah. He would die unless I convinced Kull to give up this stupid mission. But how could I convince him?

"You care very much about your godson."

I nodded.

"How can this be? He is not your own flesh and blood."

"He doesn't have to be."

I'd spent years training people to deal with loss, yet when the time came, I couldn't take my own advice. I couldn't let go. I couldn't let him die.

"Then I will relent," Kull said quietly. "My dinosaur trophy can wait."

I was speechless. He'd really just give it up?

"Life rarely takes the path we wish. I understand."

He caught my hand as I dabbed the sticky blood off his neck. I didn't push him away. After all I'd been through—all _we'd_ been through—I needed some comfort.

His piercing blue eyes caught me off guard. My heart did its usual flip-flop, and my skin flushed with heat. Twelve-year-old girl—that was me. I couldn't handle a crush. I needed to grow up.

Kull was not my boyfriend. He was a friend. And would never be anything else.

I stood before Kull could notice my reddening cheeks.

We walked out of the office. Defeat seemed to follow us like a palpable entity. But I refused to let it weigh me down. That was a road I'd traveled too many times.

I would find my godson.

The city had darkened while we'd been in the office. Sunlight no longer illuminated the stained-glass windows. Lit by city lights, the colored glass now shone with a dim luster.

I stopped in front of the window. A thought struck me.

Although the sun had set, light remained.

Even in darkness, there was light, and there was hope.

The simple reassurance calmed my frantic thoughts.

I let the realization buoy me up as we left the chapel.

_Hold on, Jeremiah. We're almost there._

I trudged up to my apartment and unlocked the door. I'd left Kull at the Ramada. He'd been okay with it. It had been a long day, and although I would deny it if he asked, he knew how I felt about him. Best if we stayed apart.

My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket before opening the door. "Hello?"

"Hello, Olive." It was Dr. Hill. The universe was granting small favors.

"Dr. Hill? I've been trying to reach you—"

"Olive, listen," he cut me off. "I don't have much time. I'm in Boston. I've been doing some research on my patients—specifically, on the children with the comatose behaviors."

"The others like Jeremiah?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"No time, Olive."

"Right, so what did you find out?"

"It isn't good."

"Why? What is it?"

"I've run a number of tests, specifically on the hormone that controls dreams, and also on the hormones released due to fear. Or due to nightmares, in this case."

"Let me guess—they're all having nightmares?" That wasn't anything new.

"Yes, but unlike any nightmares I've ever seen. Their levels of corticotropin are almost triple what most people can tolerate."

"What are you saying?"

"Children can't handle fear as well as adults. Their nervous systems eventually shut down. Breathing and lung capacity are compromised. And soon after, the brain follows suit."

"And that's why they've gone into a coma?"

He didn't answer. I knew he was trying to tell me something but couldn't come up with a good way to do it.

"Dr. Hill, what are you doing in Boston?"

"I found one other child who contracted the nightmare disease before Jeremiah. A girl. Her name was Savannah."

"Was?" I felt a cold chill creep up my spine.

"She died three hours ago."

_Stay calm. Control your breathing_ , Albert said.

"Are you there?" Dr. Hill asked.

"Yes, I'm here. How much longer does Jeremiah have?"

"I have no way of saying. But not long. I'm sorry."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Is there any way to treat the other children?"

"Nothing so far. But I'm still researching. I'm sorry, Olive. But I've got to go."

"I understand."

The call ended with a click.

I shut the door behind me. With my energy drained, I collapsed onto my couch. I felt as if the Dreamthief lurked in my house, in the dark shadows, taunting me. Fighting it had become almost impossible. Jeremiah seemed so far away. Would I ever be able to save him?

_The moment you give up is the moment he dies_ , Bill told me.

I wouldn't let him die. God help me, it wouldn't happen.

I showered. My mind wandered, and I may have washed my hair twice. I crawled out of the tub, wondering if it was worth it to make it to bed or if I were better off sleeping on the floor. I grabbed a towel and dried my hair when something caught my eye.

In the mirror.

I didn't look into the mirror directly, but I knew something waited there, in the space between this world and Faythander.

A deep, rolling thunder echoed in the distance. The lights flickered. I reached into my drawer and pulled out my red satin gown. I debated on rummaging through the dryer to find my flannel pajamas, but exhaustion overrode my sensibilities.

The satin material and spaghetti straps stuck to my damp skin as I pulled on the gown. I rummaged for some underwear but could only find my black lace panties. Folding the laundry needed to go on my to-do list, after saving the world, of course.

I reached into the bathroom to turn off the switch but paused, the power of the presence caught me off guard. It had waited for me.

Fear squirmed through my veins. I fought the urge to run away screaming. Instead, I switched off the light.

A knock came at my door. I jumped.

I crossed through my living room, wondering who could be at my door at such an unholy hour. I looked through the peephole.

Kull.

What could he possibly want? I debated on not answering the door, or at least changing into something less revealing, but I decided to see what he wanted first.

_It had better be life or death._

I cracked the door open. "What?" I asked.

With a look of amazement on his face, he held up a can of Dr. Pepper. "Have you ever tasted such a thing?"

"You've come in the middle of night for this?"

"It's very good. Even in the Wultlands, nothing is served as refreshing as this beverage. It has bubbles in it, Olive."

I ground my teeth.

He peeked inside. "Is everything okay?"

"It was."

"You look pale."

"I'm not."

"May I come inside? You really should try this."

"Can it wait until—?"

He pushed past me and entered my apartment.

_Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn._

"I could call the police for this sort of thing, you know."

I crossed my arms over my chest. Why hadn't I at least grabbed a robe? Now I felt half-naked standing here in front of him. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

He did.

He paused before crossing into my kitchen as his eyes snagged on my gown. The look only lasted a few moments, but I couldn't help but notice a primal urge in his gaze, a look that suggested so much more.

"You... I..." he started.

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I—I didn't realize... Do you always choose such apparel to sleep in?"

"I usually don't. Tonight was an exception as I was too tired to find anything else."

_Hint. Too tired. Please leave me alone so I can get some rest._

He didn't seem to get the message. Instead, he crossed into my kitchen and pulled a glass from the cabinet. Han Solo appeared and brushed against the warrior's legs.

The tension in the room dissipated as he turned his attention to my cat. He rubbed Han's ears, which looked a little ridiculous with his huge hands so gently stroking such a small head.

What did it matter what I wore, anyway? If anyone should feel embarrassed, it should be him. I decided to play it casual.

Leaning on the bar, I wondered where on earth this guy got his nerve, though secretly, I felt grateful not to be alone anymore.

After Han leapt away, Kull poured a glass of soda and handed it to me. "Drink it slowly. It's got a powerful fizz."

I emptied half my cup. He lifted an eyebrow.

"So, what happened to staying at your hotel?" I asked him.

"Have you been to one of those places? They'll bore you to tears. Nothing to do but watch that box. No sport, no libraries. I thought I would succumb to madness. And then, I found a machine with this." He held up his can. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Sure," I said and took another sip. Where had he found money to buy a soda? The image of a gutted vending machine came to mind.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

I glanced at my bathroom. The light was on. Hadn't I turned it off? "No, not exactly."

"You're frightened of something. What is it?"

"I never said I was frightened."

He leaned over the bar, close enough for me to see the soft azure flecks in his eyes. "You didn't have to say it."

I wanted to draw back, but his gaze held me. "In the bathroom," I admitted quietly. "I felt a presence. It could be the Dreamthief. It's using my mirror to try to cross. At least, I suspect so."

"Did it harm you?"

"No, I don't think it has the power to."

_Not yet, anyway._

He unsheathed his sword. Where on earth did that come from? "Shall I destroy the mirror?"

"No." I put my hand on his arm. Biceps tightened under my fingertips. Our gazes locked. Something inside those intelligent blue eyes made me pause. I felt strength there, of course, but also fierce loyalty. This was the sort of man who someone married and kept, who grew old with you and still thought you were the most beautiful creature on the planet. Euralysia was lucky, whether she realized it or not.

Kull sheathed his sword. I went back to my Dr. Pepper, my stomach in all kinds of knots. Thunder crashed around us. The lights flickered once and then popped off, plunging us into darkness.

"Is it common for the lights to extinguish?" he asked me.

I fumbled for a match in the drawer. _Knives, no. Bottle opener, no. Where are the matches?_

"It doesn't happen often," I told him and finally found the box. I struck a match and lit the candle I kept on the counter. Coconut island getaway scented the room.

The tiny pool of light illuminated the kitchen. Kull blinked as he stared at me. I pushed a strand of damp hair out of my eyes, only now realizing that he was staring at me with a sort of slack-jawed expression.

"You're very beautiful," he said in a deep, husky voice.

I cleared my throat. "Thanks," I mumbled and looked away. Two spoons and a cereal bowl sat in the sink. I decided it was a very good time to wash them.

_He's engaged, he's engaged, he's engaged._

Bill Clinton didn't seem to mind in the least. Go figure.

"Olive," Kull whispered. He wrapped his hand around my waist. Tingles spread over my skin. My throat tightened.

"Stop," I told him. I'd intended a forceful tone. It came out more as a moan, which only goaded him more.

He pressed his lips to my ear. "Will you turn around?"

"I'm busy," I whispered.

Thunder rumbled in reply. It was a long, drawn out sound that echoed through the walls and shook the light fixtures.

"You don't want me?" he asked. "I'll stop if you say so."

I pressed the dishtowel to my burning hot cheeks. Why did he have to put me in this situation? I rounded and pushed his hands away.

"Let's get two things straight," I said. "First, you're engaged. And as much as I would love to be close to you, I can't, in good conscience, ruin a carefully planned marriage."

He only smiled.

I plunged ahead. "Second, once we cross back to Faythander, you won't remember any of this. It'll be me that remembers and you that forgets, and we'll be acquaintances again and nothing more."

His chest rose and fell—his broad, barrel chest that I wanted so badly to run my fingers over. Although I'd laid out very good reasons why we shouldn't be together, I hoped he didn't listen to any of them.

He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. His lips felt surprisingly soft. As he caressed my fingertips, all I could think about was my bed and how empty it was right now.

Kull held my hand close to his chest. He didn't move forward. He kissed my fingers and then released my hand. He would be a gentleman, of course, and respect my wishes.

_Damn it all._

"The Dreamthief," he said.

_Good—change the subject._

"Does it follow you?"

His question took me off guard. I thought about the first night I'd seen the phantom in the mirror, right before I'd found out Jeremiah was sick. I'd seen the Dreamthief in my dreams. It taunted me.

"Yes," I said. "I suppose it does."

"Why would it do that?"

"I don't know."

His eyes narrowed. "You've no idea?"

"No. Do you?"

Lightning illuminated the sharp features of his face. "Perhaps it wishes to take you the same way it has taken your godson."

_No_ , I wanted to reply, but didn't. "It only goes after children because it feeds off their dreams."

"Why?"

"Because they can't control fear like us—haven't we already had this discussion?"

"It feeds off their dreams because a child's fear is the most powerful—they can't control it as we do. But some of us have other gifts—gifts to remember, gifts to control the elements, power that comes from both worlds."

"You think it wants me for my magic?"

"It's not an absurd concept."

I glanced past him, only to see the bathroom light flicker. A shiver ran down my spine. "Maybe," I admitted.

Wind howled outside, a wail that built in pitch until I thought my apartment might be torn apart. It wasn't hurricane season, but it sounded like it.

"Let me stay with you tonight," he said.

I eyed him. "Are you sure?"

"If the Dreamthief intends to take you, I'll be waiting."

If the Dreamthief took me, there wasn't a thing Kull could do to stop it, but I appreciated his concern all the same. "You'll have to sleep on my couch. You won't fit."

"I've slept on worse." He smiled. "One becomes tolerant of his surroundings once he's survived in the Wultland's wilds."

"What would Euralysia say if she knew you were staying the night with me?"

"I am not _staying the night_ with you, I am protecting you. I don't intend to sleep, and I shall keep watch in the other room if I must."

"You're twisting my words, Kull."

"I am clarifying."

I crossed my arms. He wanted to ignore the fact that he was engaged. Honestly, he acted as if his marriage would never happen. "Do you love her?" I asked him point-blank. I'd asked him before but never felt like I got a straight answer. Perhaps tonight would be different.

He opened his mouth. "I..."

I shook my head.

"Of course," he answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Would you like a different answer?"

I swallowed. Hadn't expected that one. And here we went again.

_Yes, actually, I would love a different answer._

He pressed a kiss to my lips. My thoughts evaporated.

Except for me and him, the world disappeared. I had never known what joy felt like until that moment. I let him come closer. I forgot to breathe.

When he finally pulled away, my head spun. I grabbed the counter's edge to keep steady. He stood too close. I pushed past him, stumbled to my bedroom, and closed the door.

My heart raced. I felt flushed and alive and amazing, and knew I had no right to be.

He shouldn't have done that.

I climbed into bed. My head swam.

He really, really shouldn't have done that.

A knock came at my door, but I ignored it. Whatever he had to say, I didn't want to hear it. He'd messed up a perfectly good thing. Now, whenever I looked at him, I wouldn't see a friend. I'd see someone much closer, someone much more intimate.

Darn it all—he shouldn't have done that.

Sleep came quicker than I'd expected. If the Dreamthief wanted to capture me in my dreams, he'd have to go through Kull first—because he was all I dreamt of.

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

I woke during the hour right before sunrise. Sitting up, all the sleepiness drained from me. That giddy, light-headed feeling returned when my mind played over last night's events.

_Kull kissed me._

After dressing, I grabbed my bag with the dream catcher and my mirror and headed for the door.

Kull slept like an overstuffed bear carcass with his legs hanging off the couch's edges. He looked pretty, too, his eyes closed peacefully like a baby's. Even though he wasn't awake, my stomach knotted at the sight of him. I wanted so much more.

I suppressed my feelings and left my apartment, dream catcher in hand.

Waves crashed in the distance. Evidence from last night's storm covered the island. Tree limbs lay strewn across Seawall Boulevard. Water gushed into the storm drains, carrying palm fronds and empty soda cans with it.

I crossed the street and stood on the seawall. Wind tousled my hair as I inhaled the scents of the sea. The sun still hadn't crested the horizon, which was how I wanted it. For this spell to work, the conditions needed to be perfect.

The first rays of sun counteract negative energy. Assuming everything went well, by the end of the spellcasting I should know who had made the dream catcher.

Standing on the seawall, I watched the waves crash over the sand. It reminded me of another time. Over a hundred years ago, on this very island, the worst natural disaster in American history had played out. It was the storm of 1900. There were no meteorologists or Doppler radar. The storm hit without warning, taking the lives of over six thousand souls. With so many lives lost, the remaining survivors had nowhere to put the bodies, so they stacked them on barges and dumped them out to sea, thinking their problem was solved. Days later, the bodies came back. They washed up to shore, partially decomposed.

I scanned the ocean. Reliving such a horrific scene hadn't been my intention, but sometimes the ghosts of the past demand to be remembered. It would be foolish of me to forget.

The survivors had erected this wall I stood on to protect them from future storms. I wondered if it would protect me.

Finding a staircase, I descended the wall, and stepped onto the beach.

I scanned the horizon. This early, I was the only person out here. The sky matched the gray water. Foam frothed as the waves crashed along the beach. I found a spot near the water and sat on the sand.

Opening my bag, a shiver ran down my spine as I pulled out the dream catcher and mirror. I placed the dream catcher in front of me and the mirror beside it. In the muted moments before sunrise, the dark talisman looked unnatural, as if it sucked out all the light surrounding it.

I opened my mirror and scanned each of the figurines. Dragon, elf, Wult, pixie, and goblin. Each glowed with their respective magical colors. Inhaling, I picked up the dragon first. I held the statuette over the woven loom. The magic remained dormant, so I replaced the dragon and moved on to the elf.

As soon as I held the figurine over the loom, blue Faythander light glowed from the elf. I drew back.

Elven magic.

I called the magic again just to make sure. Blue light shone from the statue. But how could this be possible? Goblins had attacked us at the temple ruins. Clearly, they were involved. Were goblins and elves working together? The thought seemed ludicrous. They were sworn enemies. They hated each other with a deep-seated prejudice that went back centuries.

I tested the Wult and pixie with no magical reactions. When I picked up the goblin statuette, my heart thumped. Perhaps my mirror box had become tainted once I'd lost it.

I tested the goblin.

Nothing.

I thought I knew enough about Faythander magic to discern whether the enchantment was elven or not. I was half-elf. I understood elven magic, and this was not elven magic. Yet the facts stared me in the face, and I had no choice but to accept them.

I replaced the statues and clicked my mirror case shut.

The first sunrays of dawn lightened the sky. I stared at the enchanted dream catcher, my heart thumping, and prepared to spellcast it. If an elf had enchanted the loom, I had to know who.

I stretched my hand over the woven fibers, feeling the taint of dark magic contact my fingers before I touched it.

Sunlight warmed my face as I touched the loom. Even with the dawn, its taint nearly overpowered me.

An image flashed through my mind. I saw a carcass-strewn battlefield. The red sky matched the bloody carnage. My impulse was to draw back, but I kept my hands on the loom.

I pushed the image aside. Instead, I thought of the word that would reveal its creator.

" _Illuminate_ ," I whispered.

As soon as the words left my mouth, the scene shifted.

In the dreamer's eyes, the world became symbols. The logic we experienced in our world got shut out, and instead, we saw thought, we saw feeling, but we did not see reality.

I wore the form of a grizzly bear as I stood in a study. Books surrounded me, some stacked as tall as towers.

A girl entered the room. She wore a blue robe with a cowl kept low over her face. In her hands, she held an ordinary-looking dream catcher. Blue thread wrapped the white loom—the sort of thing you'd see for sale at a gas station.

She stopped when she reached a column of books, and only then did I realize that an elven man sat behind the stacks. He took the dream catcher from the girl, and then he stood.

He was so tall that I couldn't make out the features of his face. With a whispered word, he waved his hand over the loom. Black magic burst from his fingers and coated the loom in slime.

It oozed over the threads, darkening them, until the loom looked nothing like it had before.

The two people exchanged money, and then the vision faded.

Before I could pull away, the scene shifted once again.

I saw the same battlefield, but this time, a woman stood at its center. Although, to call her a woman was unfair. She was otherworldly. I had no idea whether she was elven or pixie or human. Lush black hair fell over her shoulders. She wore a suit of armor made of red scales. Spikes tipped her shoulders and kneecaps. Her smooth, orange-colored skin clashed with her strange, crimson eyes. Her pupils were the oddest things to look at—instead of one pupil, she had three. Long and slitted, they fanned out from the center, each intersecting the other at the middle, reminiscent of a ceiling fan's blades.

I shuddered when I looked at her. I got the distinct impression that she had slaughtered all those people piled at her feet. Her face revealed no expression.

I released my grip on the dream catcher. My breath sounded loud in my ears. Who was the woman on the battlefield? Or perhaps, _what_ was she? Was she the Dreamthief?

The vision of the man and young girl stayed with me as well. I tried to make sense of it. I didn't recognize either of the people, though in a dreamstate, that was no surprise. Both had seemed familiar to me.

I thought of the girl first. She seemed young. Although I couldn't see her face, I felt she was human. Other than that, I had no way of identifying her, so I thought of the man instead.

He was surrounded by books, which I assumed denoted his intelligence. Also, when he stood, he'd towered over me, which in my mind meant he was important.

I heard footsteps and turned. Kull stood behind me, a can of Dr. Pepper in hand. I stood and brushed the sand off my jeans.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Looking for you."

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache throb. Not even eight-o'clock, and already a headache. I blamed it on Kull.

"I thought you might have missed your morning meal, so I brought you this." He held out the can. "I hear spellcasting can be a strain."

I wanted to protest but took it instead. Ice-cold carbonation burned down my throat. The headache dulled. Food is the way to a man's heart, blah, blah—it's the other way around. Never accept a Dr. Pepper from a man you might have a very small crush on.

"Did you discover the source of the spell?" Kull asked me as I tucked the dream catcher in my bag, grateful to get the thing out of my sight.

"I think so. But it's not what I expected. The magic is elven."

He knitted his eyebrows. "Elven?"

I nodded.

"There were two people involved in its casting. A young girl and an elven man. I got the impression that he was intelligent and possibly high ranking."

"If so, this does not bode well. It means the elves have been compromised."

"You've spent time with the elves recently. Did you notice anyone acting strangely?"

"Elves have no personalities. It's impossible for me to say."

Touché. I rephrased my sentence. "Did anyone seem unusual?"

"Not that I noticed. Did you see anything else?"

I pondered the vision. Surely I'd missed something. The magic in the spellcasting was familiar, it was definitely elven magic, but it seemed very advanced. Only a few people knew how to control magic like that. Euralysia could have, but the person in my vision had been a man, so it obviously hadn't been her. I could have done it if I'd had several years of preparation, and—

I gasped as the truth sank in.

Kull raised an eyebrow.

"It couldn't be," I whispered.

"Who?"

_No, no, no._ All my life I'd sought his acceptance. Why did it have to be him?

"You've discovered this man's identity?"

"I think so."

"Who is it?"

There were other mages in the elf kingdom. It could be anyone. There was no way it was him. Yet I couldn't deny that sinking feeling I felt deep inside.

"My father."

# Chapter Thirty

The waves crashed behind us, though I barely heard the sound over my pounding heart. "We have to go back to Faythander," I told Kull.

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes. I have to find my father. If he's behind my godson's abduction, I have to confront him." My stomach knotted at the thought of confronting my father. He would defeat me. His powers exceeded my own by a long shot. No way would I beat him. But I could try.

I strapped on my backpack with the dream catcher inside. My mirror case sat on the sand, and I picked it up. My reflection stared back at me, looking more worried than I'd realized. I snapped it shut.

Kull rested his hand on my shoulder. "If your father has betrayed you, then you shall not confront him alone."

I looked up at him. His eyes matched the ocean, not just in color, but in intensity. Knowing I'd have a Wult warrior at my side made me calm down a little. "Thank you."

He nodded. We stood there with the sound of the ocean surrounding us. I couldn't pull my gaze from his. I wanted him to kiss me again. Was it a fluke that his first kiss had been so passionate? Or would it happen again?

_Do I really want to know?_

"Last night—" he started.

"No."

His gaze deepened. "You refuse to accept the truth?"

"I don't know what you're referring to."

I moved toward the sea wall. He grabbed my hand. He had no idea how much this hurt. I needed someone to be close to. It wasn't fair that I had to live my life alone. He had no right to tease me this way. I tried to pull away, but he pulled me closer.

"If you will not discuss last night, then you must discuss how you intend to confront your father."

"Why?"

"You must be prepared to face him. Confronting one's kin is never as easy as it seems."

"I'll do what I must."

"How?"

He was starting to frustrate me. "I'll decide when I get there."

"It will not be easy."

"You've mentioned it." I tried to pull away. He pulled me closer.

"Kull, stop," I said, but I made no effort to move away.

"You cannot continue to suppress your emotions."

"I'm not suppressing anything."

"You are lying."

I tried to argue, but my brain wouldn't come up with a good rebuttal, probably because Kull was right. A hard knot formed in my throat. I felt tears trying to form. This was the very reason I hated dealing with emotions.

He pulled me closer. I resisted at first, but finally, I let him hold me against his chest. The steady beat of his heart calmed me. A part of me realized this was worse than a kiss. If he'd kissed me, I could have rationalized that he only wanted me for sex. But he didn't make a move, which meant he thought of me as more than an object. I was someone he cared about. It was just my luck that he'd forget it all in the next half hour.

When he released me, I turned away from him and headed off the beach. He trailed me, not speaking, until we reached my apartment. We gathered our things in silence. My hands shook as I opened my mirror. I hesitated before pressing my hand to the glass.

"The trip back will be worse than the trip over here," I warned him. "Memory loss can be a huge stress to the brain."

"I am prepared."

"You're prepared to forget everything?" I asked, not meeting his gaze.

"Olive, whether in Earth Kingdom or on Faythander, I am still the same person. That will not change."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He smiled. "The crossing can only affect our memories. It cannot erase our emotions."

It was true. If that wasn't the case, I wouldn't have any clients. "I guess you're right."

He caressed my cheek with his thumb in a slow, gentle motion. "You're worrying too much."

I sighed. Maybe I _was_ worrying too much. He'd still feel the same about me, even if he couldn't remember everything. "I guess you're right."

He nodded. "Should we return?"

"Okay," I said, pressing my fingertips to the glass. "Whenever you're ready."

He stood close, the warmth from his body like a comforting blanket.

_He'll still be the same person. Don't worry so much._

Trying to concentrate on the magic, I closed my eyes, pressed my palm to the glass, and let the spell escape my lips. The floor fell away as we crossed into Faythander.

The wind howled through my ears. Bright spots appeared in my retinas. Raindrops splashed my face as we entered the dragon's forest. Opening my eyes, I felt the world spin around me. I steadied my breathing. The dizziness subsided a tiny bit, so I took in my surroundings.

Mushrooms as tall as houses sprouted around us. To me, this place felt the most magical in Faythander, though today, with the gray sky and soggy ground, it felt less so.

Kull stumbled. I grabbed his arm, and we ran to the nearest mushroom. We crouched beneath its broad dome as water streamed off the edges. I crossed my arms, though the dampness kept me chilled.

Kull sat beside me. His face paled. He caught his head between his hands, breathing heavily. I knew the crossing hadn't been easy for him. Loss of memory was only one side effect. I sat next to him. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out.

He looked up, and then rounded, as if searching. "Where is my dinosaur trophy?"

_Here we go._

"We agreed not to get it. I know you don't remember, but you left it for good reason. My godson is in more trouble than we realized."

"I agreed to this?"

"You did."

He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you aren't lying?"

"I guess you don't."

"I wouldn't have left without the skeleton. It makes no sense. We bargained. I never relent on bargains."

"This time you did."

He raised an eyebrow.

"A lot happened while we were there. My godson may die soon." Saying it out loud was harder than I realized. "We're still looking for Mr. Green, whoever he is. And I spellcasted the dream catcher."

"Did you find its creator?"

"I did," I answered after a pause. "I'm paying a visit to my father," I said quietly.

"Then the elves are involved?"

"It looks that way."

"Is it possible they attacked our light-rail's carriage?"

"It's likely. But I don't think my father was involved." He couldn't have been.

Kull didn't answer. Perhaps he didn't want to offend me, but I knew he thought the same thing I did. My father had planned the attack on the carriage. He'd planted the dream catcher for us to find. He'd orchestrated the attack after we'd left the tombs. He was working with the goblins and the Dreamthief. He knew of my powers. He knew I was a threat.

I still didn't know what his motivations were, but I would find out. Heaven help me, I would find out.

"How do you plan to travel to Lauressa?" he asked me.

I pulled out my mirror and found the dragon statue. The figurine warmed as I called the magic inside. I whispered the spell that would summon Fan'twar and then replaced the statue. "Same way I always do. Having a dragon for a stepfather comes in handy. I only hope he's still here. He meant to travel to the outer islands. I pray he hasn't yet."

Kull nodded, his face drawn.

"I'm sure he'll let you ride, too."

Another nod. The steady pelting of rain broke up the uneasy silence.

"A dragon's head would have been worth more than my entire collection combined. It makes no sense that I would have left it."

_Would he ever shut up about the thing?_ I wanted the old Kull back, the one I'd discovered on Earth. We'd grown close there, and now that we were back, I was stuck with stick-up-his-ass Kull.

"Is that the only reason you wanted it? Because it's worth a lot?"

"More than my entire collection—why can't you understand this? Did you spellcast me to make me leave it behind?"

"Do you hear yourself? Why would I do such a thing?"

"It is the only conclusion that makes sense."

"Doesn't it make sense that you placed more value on our friendship than that skeleton?"

I hoped that would shut him up. It didn't.

"You gave me your word. I escorted you to the tombs at great risk to my own life."

"I know. And I appreciate your efforts."

"We must return to Earth Kingdom."

"That's out of the question."

"Why?" he asked.

The rain slowed. Droplets fell from the mushroom's edge and plopped into puddles. I watched the rippling water. Anger boiled inside me. I crossed my arms, wishing my stepfather would show up soon.

What had I ever seen in Kull, anyway? He was a spoiled Wult prince who loved money and violence more than anything else. I realized what I'd seen in him earlier had all been a delusion. I saw what I'd wanted and not what was truly there.

"Do you refuse to go back?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered after a pause.

"You will not fulfill your bargain?"

"I won't."

He peered ahead, his jaw flexed. He didn't give me a reply. He stood and walked away, leaving me alone.

I should have been more upset. I wasn't. After the sun broke through the clouds, I walked to the edge of the cliff. Damp grass squished underfoot. I found a rock to perch on.

Kull never returned. I didn't expect him to. After half an hour, I assumed he must've found his own way back to Lauressa.

I thought about how gentle he'd seemed when he'd kissed me. I debated on apologizing for not getting his stupid skeleton but decided against it. I'd done nothing wrong.

_The last time_ , I reminded myself. I would never take him to Earth again. He could retrieve his own dead dinosaurs from now on.

Sitting alone, I realized I should have been weepy and depressed and feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I felt relieved. I should have parted ways with Kull a long time ago.

Albert spoke up and told me I was not dealing with my feelings in an appropriate manner. Sooner or later, I would crack. That gaping hole in the pit of my stomach was proof.

Blue sky peeked through the clouds. The beating of giant wings sounded in the distance. Only one creature could make that much noise.

The sky king loomed overhead, his golden scales glittering in the stray sunbeams. He landed with a thump and shook his head, spraying me with raindrops.

"You're worse than a dog," I said as I stood.

"Flying in the rain is an uncomfortable business, young one."

I walked toward his massive head rimmed in a crown of sharp horns. With his spiked tail and clawed feet, the sky king should have struck fear into me. Instead, I went to him and hugged his neck as tight as I could.

"I'm glad you're still here," I said, trying to keep him from hearing my voice crack. He was the only creature left who cared. Everyone else was gone.

A claw gently stroked my back. "I could not leave for the outer islands just yet. Are you upset about something?"

I pulled away. "About silly things, mostly. Can you fly me to the elven capitol?"

"For what reason?"

"I need to speak with my father. I found a dream catcher in the Wult tombs. It was tainted with dark magic. When I performed the spellcasting, I found its creator. My father."

Fan'twar didn't answer for a moment. "I see."

I almost heard the gears in his head clicking. "Then I will fly you to Lauressa. This news is troubling. I will confront him immediately."

"No." I'd already thought of this. I couldn't let him get me out of this one.

He eyed me.

"If you kill him, the elves will see it as an act of war. They are already on the brink of war as it is. You will lose their good graces should you confront my father."

"You do not see this as I do, young one. It is my place to confront him."

"Not anymore."

His eyes narrowed. "You wish to challenge him alone?"

"If he kills me, the elves won't care. If I kill him, they'll be mad at me, not at you. I know this is the best way. Please, let me confront him alone."

The sky king seemed to mull it over. "His powers are far stronger than yours. I do not think this is wise."

"But it's the only way."

He knew I was right. He knew I had to do this alone. The existence of peace in Faythander depended on it. "I will allow you to confront him," he conceded. "But do not forget that peace is always preferable to war. Do not forget what I have taught you."

"Don't worry. I won't."

I grabbed one of his spines, then climbed onto his back and scooted in between two colossal spikes. Fan'twar beat his wings several times. Leaves spiraled into the air as he dove off the cliff. My knuckles turned white as I clenched his spike. The world spun.

The sunlight invigorated me. Rolling green hills spread before us. Fan'twar flapped his massive wings until he gained altitude. We soared into the clouds.

I glanced back at the dragon's forest, wondering if Kull had found his way out. I pushed my worries aside. He was a big boy. He could handle himself.

The landscape changed. Jagged mountains replaced rolling hills. Snow capped the peaks. Wind whooshed through my ears. Inhaling the fresh air, I realized I could stay up here forever. It was so far away from Earth, or any kingdom for that matter. So far away from politics or people who wished to kill me. Or people that I wished to avoid.

We arrived at the elf kingdom much sooner than I wanted, though we'd spent half the day flying. Lauressa's giant spires rose into the sky. Fan'twar circled the city several times. He settled on a landing spot near the fortress' outskirts.

I recognized my father's chambers. Tall, arched pillars surrounded a circular building made of a sandstone-type material. Gold particles had been added to the mixture, giving the structure a glittery luster.

My father's chambers weren't far from the main palace. I wondered if Kull had made it back yet. If he'd taken the light-rails, it was a possibility. I would avoid the main palace at all costs, though paying a visit to my dad didn't seem much more appealing.

A knot formed in my stomach. Even on a good day, I dreaded seeing my father. Now I would have to confront him.

I slid off Fan'twar's back and landed on the ground. I hugged him tight, feeling his smooth scales under my fingers.

"Will you reconsider?" he asked me.

"You know I can't."

He let out a snort. "You are strong, Olive. Someday soon, I predict your powers will exceed my own. Until then, you must take care. Remember what I have taught you. It is no coincidence that I am your guardian."

"I'll remember."

He nodded. "My journey begins now. I have not heard from the wild dragons on the outer islands, even when I used the spellcasting to contact them. I fear the danger there is worse than we imagine."

"Do you think it's the Regaymor attacking them?"

"I am almost certain of it. The Regaymor are attracted to places of power. I fear they are not only infiltrating the goblin lands, but the outer islands as well. The Regaymor must not be allowed to capture the magic. I fear to leave you alone, but I know of no other way."

"I can take care of myself, Fan'twar."

His smile looked strained. "You have grown into a great practitioner. Still, you must be cautious. The Regaymor are not easily destroyed—if they can be destroyed at all."

"But what are they? Where do they come from?"

"I have not been able to discern that. I feel as though their magic clouds even mine. None of my spellcastings have given me any clue as to their identity."

"Very strange."

"Yes. I hope my quest will reveal some answers to our questions. Take care, young one. I will return as soon as I can."

"I'll be careful."

"Very well." Without another word, he gave his wings several massive flaps and then leapt into the air. He disappeared over the towering parapets and into the sky. I watched him go, feeling my stomach sink. I knew he cared for me, but I wished he didn't have to leave. I felt safer with him watching over me. Yet, even as a child, the sky king had given me more freedom than I should've had. He trained me through his example. He had a strange understanding of protecting me. Perhaps it was because he was dragon and I was human. Dragons cared for their young, but they didn't constantly watch over them as a human would have. Still, unlike most beings I dealt with lately, I knew he loved me.

The path to my father's chambers wound through a small elven grove. Trees that reminded me of cypresses grew along the path, their dark, mossy foliage moving with grace in the gentle breeze.

My footsteps sounded unusually loud on the gravel path. A clammy sweat broke out over my body. I thought about what I would say to my father when I saw him. _Hey, Dad, I hear you're casting evil spells and you may be trying to kill me. Anything else new?_

The wind rustled the mossy leaves, making a soft sighing sound. My heart clattered in my chest. As a child, I'd never suspected my father had wanted me dead. He'd been cold and distant, but I wouldn't have thought him capable of murder.

I reached the door. Gold leafing overlaid a smooth-grained wood. I knocked and waited.

It opened sooner than I would have liked.

My father stared at me. I'd expected a servant to answer. Last time, it had taken an act of the Almighty just to see him, so I wasn't prepared to meet him so soon. I guess the shock must've shown on my face.

"Olive?"

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

I wanted to bolt. I didn't want this conversation. But if I ever wanted to see Jeremiah again, I knew I had to stay. The dream catcher sat in my backpack. I decided now would be a good time to pull it out.

I unzipped it, grabbed my handkerchief, and carefully lifted the talisman out. "I came to ask you about this."

He knitted his eyebrows, glanced outside as if searching for someone, and then ushered me in.

His home hadn't changed much. It was built in the typical elven style with arched windows and doorways, overly embellished pillars, floors made of differing patterns of wood that wove together to create a tapestry. I still had trouble walking on them. I felt as if I were disturbing a work of art.

The furniture wasn't built for comfort. Every piece was carved and inlaid with gold or pearls, yet arranged to create the most efficiency of space.

Bookshelves lined the walls, though I didn't see a single tome out of place. Even though Mom and Dad lived worlds apart, I could see their attraction to one another. They were both too OCD for their own good. I should've counted my blessings not to have been raised by them.

The door banged shut, and my father rounded on me. "Where did you get that?" He never displayed emotion, except now. His face looked livid, though he spoke with calm calculation.

"I found it in the Wult tombs. Any ideas how it got there?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you touch it?"

"Yes," I answered.

He collapsed onto one of the chairs. I sat across from him and replaced the dream catcher. Even with the handkerchief, I still felt its taint.

I gave him a moment. Honestly, I'd never seen him so shaken up.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

He was sorry? This came unexpectedly. "Did you intend for me to find it?"

He shook his head.

I didn't believe him. "Yet you knew where I was going. You were the spellcaster who created it—"

"Yes," he said, cutting me off.

"But why would you create such a thing?"

He shut his eyes. I saw the tiny wrinkles in his skin. He seemed older, more careworn.

"Daddy, why?" I hadn't called him Daddy since I was five. That came out of nowhere. The familiar sound of an elven clock came from somewhere, its tick-tock musical and airy, like the pings of a bell.

"That talisman was meant for someone else," he finally said. "I suspect I've been misled."

"It was meant for whom?"

"For a person of great danger, a threat to all of Faythander."

"Does this person have a name?"

He hesitated. "I dare not speak it. You shouldn't be involved in this. I had hoped to protect you. I am sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"But I feel I must. There are powers in Faythander that are greater than anything you've been taught about. They are kept hidden for a reason. Years ago, I discovered one of these powers deep within a cave. I harnessed it. I'd meant to use it for good, but magic is like clay—it is neither good nor evil, but can be molded into whatever shape you please."

"You made it evil?"

"No, I was hired to make it a force for destruction. But you must understand, I was led to believe that this talisman would destroy a very evil being. I gave it shape and purpose; those who came after me tainted it."

I wasn't sure if I believed him. He made it sound as if he were innocent, yet he couldn't be that naïve. The guy was old enough to be my great-great grandfather, and with his age came centuries of wisdom. I wasn't buying it. "So, you're saying you had nothing to do with putting this thing in the tombs?"

He shook his head.

"Then how did it get there?"

"I do not know."

"Then who did you sell the dream catcher to?"

"It was a young girl from Earth Kingdom, though she worked for someone else."

"Who?" I asked.

"I was never given a name."

Awfully convenient. He claimed to have harnessed one of the most powerful magics on Faythander, one more dangerous than I could possibly imagine, and he sold it to someone who wouldn't bother to give his name. _Smooth, Dad._

"The girl that you sold it to—what did she look like?"

"Very thin, dark skin. She seemed quite nervous, though I never knew about what."

My heart sank. Sissy.

I should have known. I remembered the first time I'd pulled out my magic case in front of her. She hadn't flinched when I'd opened the mirror, and now I knew why. She'd seen Faythander magic before. It was nothing new to her. But why had she been in Faythander buying powerful talismans?

"Father, I don't understand, why did you sell it to her—surely you knew how dangerous that kind of power was in the wrong hands?"

"Of course, but I had no choice."

"Why?"

"I would rather not say. There are forces—"

"Forces of evil, yes, I get it. But I'm already involved. I've been attacked multiple times by various evil, nasty creatures. I've traveled my world and yours looking for the villain responsible for kidnapping my godson. The goblins are involved. I suspect they're trying to summon Theht."

His eyebrows shot up.

"So please, be honest with me. Why did you sell the dream catcher to my godson's sister?"

He threaded his fingers together. A dark look crossed his face. In his eyes, I saw fear.

# Chapter Thirty-One

"I could be killed for what I'm about to tell you," my father said.

"Killed?" I asked. Through the room's arched windows, I watched the afternoon light turn golden orange. Evening approached, and with it came a chill I couldn't shake.

"There are those who believe that some secrets are more precious than life." My father crossed to the hearth, walking with the fluid movements only an elf could duplicate. I heard a whispered word of magic, and a tiny flame ignited on the stack of dry wood.

"Will you swear not to repeat what I tell you?"

Fire spread over the logs. Soon, it roared from the open hearth. Even so, I couldn't shake the chill. An elven oath wasn't something to be taken lightly. I'd learned that from him.

"I swear it," I told him.

He nodded. His voice became quiet. "Have you heard of the Gravidorum?"

"I don't believe so."

"Most people haven't, and for good reason. They are an elven secret society, an elite group involved in the highest government positions. Secrecy may sound like an innocuous power. In truth, it is their greatest asset."

"How do you know about them?"

He paced the floor. "Because I'm one of them—or was."

This didn't come as much of a surprise. Father had always been guarded. I knew he kept secrets. And now I knew why. "So you were a member of a secret society. Why did you leave?"

He waved his hand. "It's a very long story. Suffice it to say, I had a falling out. The importance of the Gravidorum is in its history—a history it tries desperately to protect."

"History of what?" I asked.

"History of whom, would be the appropriate question."

"Okay, history of whom?"

Dad and his proper usage of pronouns. Ugh.

He paused in his pacing to stare at me. I tried not to flinch under his gaze. "Tell me what you've been taught of elven history."

Okay, I could play along. "Pa'horan the First saved the elves from war. He united them. They became a peaceful species and—"

"No, no," he cut me off. "Before that."

I raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing recorded before that. They evolved from our first ancestors after the two worlds were rended."

"Yes, yes. They evolved, and who else?"

Where was he going with this? "About a million other species. The dragons, the pixies, the goblins."

"Goblins, yes. That is what you were taught, correct?"

"Of course. Everyone was taught the same thing."

He took a seat beside me. His voice became quiet. "What if I told you that the goblins didn't evolve with the other species? That they were elves once, like us?"

Could it be true? If it was, then this was huge. "They were _elves_?"

"They were elves with extraordinary abilities. They were born with a special magic that gave them the power to manipulate liquid elements. They could create healing potions, invisibility potions, even potions to revive the dead, without learning the elemental magical names."

My stomach knotted. Geth. Could they be the descendants of the people my father spoke of? I tried to wrap my mind around it, but relearning something you've been taught your entire life is no easy task. Discovering the magical names of elements took years, and no one ever found them all. But for a group of people to manipulate magic without learning the names was an incredible power.

My dad continued. "Other elves tried for years to recreate these powers, but failed. They became the Gravidorum, who felt the potion users were hoarding their talents. The Gravidorum tortured the potion users to find out their secrets. They experimented on them, manipulated their DNA, all the while trying to discover the source of their powers. After time, the elven potion users no longer maintained a humanoid appearance. They became monsters. However, the Gravidorum never found a way to duplicate the spells.

"Finally, the potion makers were exiled to the northlands and became the goblins. The Gravidorum destroyed all knowledge of this, recreating history to lead others to believe that the goblins had always been a separate species."

Thoughts spiraled through my head. Potion makers. Goblins were nothing more than elven potion makers. "How could this be possible?"

"Most goblins became insane after they were tortured. They became depraved, animalistic. But others resisted the torture. This was kept closely hidden, even from me. Years ago, I discovered a group of these goblins. They had organized and wanted to bring the goblins out of obscurity. They called themselves the Caxon."

I pressed my eyes closed. This confirmed it. Geth was the leader of the Caxon. Geth and his people were goblins. It was almost too much to take in.

"Do you know of the Caxon?"

"Yes," I answered. "I met them in the goblin lands. That's why they were there. They weren't travelers—they lived there. They'd always been there."

"I am surprised you found them, though their cause has gained some support, even from the Wults. When I learned of these goblin rebels, it was then I decided I could no longer associate with the Gravidorum. Goblins, in my mind, were no longer depraved animals but real people, no different from me and you. Except once I became a member of the society, there was only one way for me to leave it."

"Death?"

He nodded. "Since then, I've kept quiet, helping the Caxon however I could while pretending to be involved with the Gravidorum. Months ago, a young girl came to me. She worked with the Caxon."

"Sissy." But how had she made such connections? She lived on Earth, and she was so young. Sissy was more than she appeared. I wished I had gotten to know her better.

"She had a bold plan to free the Caxon. It involved a dream catcher."

I exhaled. "The one I found in the tombs."

"Yes."

"But it was tainted with dark magic. Where did you learn to use it?"

"It was never my intention to use dark magic. Remember, the user makes magic good or evil. When I spellcasted the talisman, I used only the powers I possessed. It became powerful, yes. But not evil. It was meant to show the truth—and the future. It was never meant for evil."

"Yet somehow it became tainted."

He nodded. "What do you know of the human girl?"

"Not much, apparently. She's my godson's big sister. She's had a rough life, which makes her desperate, which makes her dangerous. But I can't imagine that she'd want to hurt her brother."

"Are you sure about this?"

I paused. _Would Sissy hurt Jeremiah?_

"She has no reason to hurt him."

"Then she must have been trying to save him."

I pondered the possibilities. She'd come to my father before Jeremiah had succumbed to the coma, which meant she must have known beforehand what would happen to her brother. Perhaps the dream catcher was meant for whoever intended to hurt her brother. But how had it ended up in the Wults' tombs? Even with my father's explanation of the Gravidorum and Caxon, I still didn't know how to rescue Jeremiah. "So much doesn't make sense."

Through the windows, the sun dipped below the mountains. The once vibrant blue sky faded to a pale pink. Another day ended, another day that Jeremiah suffered.

Father paced to the kitchen. Soon, I heard the steam from his teakettle, and the smell of mint filled the air. The scent calmed me. There were many things I disliked about my dad, but his teas weren't one of them. He returned with two steaming cups.

"Do you think I'll rescue my godson?" I asked as he sat across from me.

"I don't possess the powers of clairvoyance. But if he has been captured by the Gravidorum, there is a good chance you will never see him again."

_Good old Dad, never sugarcoating the truth._ This brought back some memories...

_Father, what do you think of my painting?_

_You've used an ill-bristled brush, and the perspective is badly wrought. Unless you intend to devote your life to practicing the art of painting, you'll never be a true artist._

I sipped my tea. I wouldn't let him get under my skin. Not anymore. "Then is it hopeless?"

"It is never hopeless."

I placed my cup on its saucer, deciding to level with him. Keeping secrets would only cause more confusion. "I saw a vision of an enchanted wall surrounding a place called Mog's Keep. My godson was inside. Do you have any idea where that might be?"

He raised an eyebrow, which made him look even more elven, if that were possible. "Mog," he said the name slowly, and then he stood and crossed to his bookshelves. "I recognize the name. He was a Wult, yes?"

"Yes, but his family wasn't typical. There is no history of them before the crossing."

He scanned his rows of alphabetically arranged books. They were coordinated in every way possible, even by color. Librarians would envy this place. He pulled out a copy of Peerling's _When Dreams Cometh_ and showed it to me. "Are you familiar with this?"

"I've read it several times, though it hasn't helped me much. _When Death Cometh_ was more informational."

His eyes widened. "You've found a copy?"

"Yes, and I've read it."

He looked shocked.

Ha. _Ha!_ A book I'd read and he hadn't. I wanted to stand up and do a happy dance.

"You are very fortunate to have found a surviving copy. Where, may I ask, did you discover it?"

"In the Caxon's camp. I sort of stole it from them." And then Kull stole it from me, but my dad didn't need to know that.

Kull. Painful memory. Ouch.

Father leaned forward. "The Caxon? You do realize that they are still learning to be civilized. They could have killed you."

"Yes." I sipped my tea. "They almost did."

"Yet I am pleased you found a copy still in existence. Do you realize how valuable that book is?"

I cleared my throat. "I have an idea."

"Where is it?"

I'd had it in my bag, but hadn't seen it since yesterday. Had Kull taken it? Or had I left it in my apartment? Darn it all. Why couldn't I be organized for once? "I don't know."

If I'd slapped him he wouldn't have looked more surprised. "You don't know?"

"I may have lost it. Or had it stolen from me."

Father rubbed his forehead. He let out a long, disappointed sigh, a sound I was too familiar with. "No matter. To know a copy still exists is enough for me." He forced a smile, though I knew I would never hear the end of it. "You must be careful with knowledge, Olive. In the wrong hands, it could lead to disaster."

A typical elven sentiment—they treasured knowledge more than their own offspring. Elves had been storing knowledge for centuries. They seemed to have a monopoly on it. It was no wonder there were only a few copies of Peerling's text left.

He tapped the book on his knee. "Peerling was a descendant of Mog. His family built the Keep in the Northlands. I am not aware of the particulars, but the elves feared it. They constructed the wizard's wall to keep it safe from the rest of Faythander."

I scrutinized him. "You're not aware of the particulars? I find that hard to believe."

"The light tower was dangerous. There are certain places on Faythander where magical abilities can be amplified. The Wult caves near the Rheic Sea are one. The tower is another. It was being used for a spell to recall Theht to the world, but before the followers of Mog were able to recall the ancient god, the elves attacked. They killed most of the followers and attempted to destroy the tower. However, the tower had been enchanted. All the elven magic in the world couldn't bring it down. So they built a wall around it instead that would stop anyone else who wished to summon Theht."

"That's where my godson's dreamsoul is being kept. The goblins must be trying to summon Theht from the same place they tried to summon him from hundreds of years ago." This was huge. The children's dreams were being used as fuel for their spells, and the tower amplified those powers. "Isn't there any way to get inside?"

He stared out the window, his eyes turning amber with the setting sun. "The wall was constructed by magic wielders who possessed dark magic. Only one enchantment can truly bring the wall down."

"Which one?"

He opened the tome and flipped to a page near the back. He turned the book toward me and showed me a picture of a gnarled, oriental-type tree. I'd seen this picture before. "Pixies," he said. "They guard this tree with their lives. Do you know why?"

Although I'd read the book, I only remembered that the tree was held sacred by the pixies, and it was supposedly a remnant from the first creation, older than any living thing on the planet. "Does it possess magic?" I asked.

"It possesses the most powerful magic in Faythander. When the worlds were rended, magic was born in Faythander. In those days, the magic was pure and untainted, more powerful than anything we wield today. There is only one source of that magic left."

"The tree," I whispered.

"Yes. The only magic capable of bringing down Mog's wall."

I rubbed my eyes, feeling a headache trying to start. "How hard would it be to retrieve pure magic?"

"None have done it."

"That easy, huh?"

"The pixies guard it with their lives."

My heart sank. I'd never fought a pixie. Most people hadn't, and if they had, they didn't live to tell it. Pixies were guarded, territorial, and more connected with nature than any species I'd met. There was a reason why that tree had lasted for centuries, and I knew they would never let me near it. "Then my godson is as good as dead," I admitted.

"Not necessarily." My father stood and crossed the room. He removed a small box off the shelf. Firelight flickered over the worn wood as he sat across from me and then opened the lid. A ring sat inside. The gold band supported a small, pear-shaped diamond.

"A ring?" I asked.

"Your mother's."

I tried not to let my mouth gape. He hardly ever spoke of Mom, and when he did, it was something in passing, and nothing about their relationship. Honestly, I'd always had trouble believing they'd fallen in love. Father was so stoic. I supposed my mother must have bewitched him. "You gave this to her?"

"I crafted a memory charm, crossed to Earth Kingdom, and bought this for her. Being from different worlds, we had trouble communicating effectively. She always accused me of not understanding her, which in retrospect was most likely true. Elven jewelry didn't suit her. So I bought this for her."

The tiny diamond reflected the orange firelight. Compared to elven jewelry, this would have been considered poorly crafted. But for Father to create a memory charm, a challenging test of patience and endurance, just to buy this for my mother, left me stunned. "What did she think of it?"

He paused. "I never gave it to her."

I shot him a questioning glance.

"We'd been married civilly in an elven court, but it had little meaning to her. I wanted to make her a proper bride in a human ceremony, but I always found an excuse not to. I kept that box in my pocket, and every day I determined that today would be the day I married her the way humans do. But I never did."

And now Mom sat in that huge, empty house with no memories of the man who loved her. I'd never felt sorry for her. It was a strange emotion, and somehow, I wished I could tell her. I wondered if my dad knew what had become of her.

"It wasn't easy for me, you see. Elves think of marriage as an arrangement. They recognize that a family with two parents is the best place for a child to be raised, but they never speak of love."

He took the ring from me. "These things don't matter anymore, of course. I brought out this ring for a different purpose." He snapped the lid shut, like a cover to his heart. "Because an emotional bond is tied so strongly to this ring, it has become a talisman."

"But it's never been spellcasted."

"True. But sometimes objects can absorb magical energy without being enchanted."

"How powerful is it?"

"That depends," he said.

"Depends on what?"

"The magical word you discover from it."

And now this all made sense. The ring would provide me with a new magical word, which I could use to help me influence the pixies. Whether it would actually work, I had no idea, but at this point, I would try anything.

He passed the box to me. "You will discover the magic when the time is right. This ring is yours now."

# Chapter Thirty-Two

The hum of fairy wings sounded a little softer than the chirp of cicadas. The tiny orbs of light flitted outside Father's cottage. He opened the windows, and their sound increased, bringing back memories of better years long past. There were times I wished I'd never left my fairy world.

This evening brought me closer to finding my godson, for which I was grateful. I'd suspected my father of being a dark practitioner. Instead, I found him a lonely man unable to express his emotions, a man who loved his wife but couldn't find a way to tell her.

I fidgeted with the box. He'd told me to discover its magical word when the time was right. When would that be, exactly?

The fire burned to a smolder. It radiated soft, ocher light around Father's living chambers, sending its glow to the bookshelves, the table filled with our empty teacups, and to Father, who slung a robe of dark blue around his shoulders. "I'm to attend dinner in the high lord's palace. You're welcome to accompany me."

Another dinner invitation. How many of these had I avoided? Coming up with excuses was getting tedious, but making them had become a habit I didn't know how to break. "I'm sure the high lord wouldn't want me to interfere."

"You aren't elven royalty. It's doubtful the high lord would notice your presence."

_Gee, thanks, Dad._

"I've extended my welcome to you on numerous occasions, yet you refuse me. Have I wronged you?"

I sighed. Here we go. Having a heart-to-heart with my father was something I'd avoided my entire life, and with good reason. I remembered the look on his face at the Wult gathering after I'd burst through the enchanted doors. My presence to him was like a curse, a reminder of his time spent with a human woman who no longer cared for him, who didn't even remember him. I didn't want to shame him by appearing by his side at an elven gathering.

"You haven't wronged me," I said.

"Then why do you avoid me?"

"Me?" I asked, stunned. I remembered the lonely evenings I'd spent as a child in the dragon caves. Though I loved the dragons like family, I wished I could've talked with someone like me. Father had visited only on occasion, and never for very long. How could he claim such a thing?

"I realize I've been distant," he explained. "But it's not our way to be overly affectionate. I hoped to teach you of the elven ways through my example."

I didn't know how to react. Anger burned in the place where I'd stored my feelings of inadequacy. "In the first place, you left me to be raised by dragons so you wouldn't have to bother with me. You taught me nothing of the elven ways. In fact, I've learned to hate them. I know more of dragons and humans than I do of your kind. If you think I've avoided you, it's only because I had a very excellent teacher. How many nights did I lay awake in the dragon caves with tears in my eyes, wondering why my father never came to visit?"

He took a step back, his face unreadable. If I'd struck a chord, it didn't show. "Is this what you believe? That I abandoned you to the dragons because you were a bother?"

"I've never been given a better explanation."

He sat across from me. The fire sputtered. The flames flickered over the hardened features of my father's face. "You've never been told the circumstances of your birth for good reason," he said finally, his voice hushed.

"What circumstances?"

"It would be wrong of me to tell you. There are many secrets I have already divulged. I will not reveal another. Suffice it to say, it would have been dangerous for me to have you in my presence. You were never a burden, and I have never been ashamed of you."

"Dangerous how?"

"Dangerous to your life, and to mine as well."

I crossed my arms. I'd never heard of this. How could I be certain he wasn't coming up with another excuse?

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"In this case, you'll have to trust me."

"Trust is earned."

"Indeed. You will have to let go of you misconceptions of me. I am not a bad man, though I am not perfect, either. I know I have made mistakes. My tendency to protect the truth is one of them, though I keep my secrets for good reason. Will you forgive me, Olive?"

This put me at an impasse. On the one hand, I could believe him and forgive him for all his shortcomings that resulted in the screwy mess I called my life. On the other hand, I made sure I knew him first before exonerating him from his crimes.

"I'll join you for dinner," I conceded. "But you can't expect anything more."

He nodded. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but if he was disappointed, it didn't show. "Very well. Tonight you shall feast. On the morrow, you must travel to the pixies."

I stuffed the box in my pocket. Father led me out the door. Though I felt I'd made the right decision, a feeling of guilt gnawed at me. Would I ever be close to my father?

We followed a narrow footpath overshadowed by the huge, cypress-like trees. I spied several fairy homes in the swaying green boughs, their twinkling lights shining through bits of pinecone shingles and acorn tops.

If you'd taken me to the moon and then dropped me back on the world, I would know instantly which reality I'd entered simply by listening. The insects of Earth chirp with life, with energy, but not with magic. In Faythander, magic envelops the trees, the grass, and every living organism. It gives them music unique from anything Earth can produce, a melodic hum that strikes a chord deep within the soul. It was so beautiful that when visitors from Earth crossed back home, the forgotten memories shattered them to the core, almost like experiencing death.

I realized how lucky I was to remember both worlds.

We turned off the path and onto a wide, cobbled street that led us under the city wall. Sounds of voices echoed around us as we entered the city's inner courtyard. Elves filled the street. In the moonlight, children darted past us, wearing bright oranges and reds and pinks. Their parents waited under the awnings, their clothing more simple and drab.

Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, elves went through a transformation that changed them from bright-eyed creatures who danced in the moonlight to secretive automatons who hid in the shadows. I hoped I never became one.

Bill Clinton suggested I take time to dance in the moonlight just so I _wouldn't_ become one of the drones.

The children grabbed hands and spun in a circle. A little girl noticed me. She giggled, an infectious sound that made me pause, and then she waved to me. I left my father's side and grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing?" Father asked me. He stepped back as I almost tripped him. A gentle night breeze blew past, warming me. The elven children clenched my hands. Their faces were giddy, their cheeks rosy with the invigoration. They laughed, and though everything in the world seemed to weigh me down, I forgot it all, and I laughed, too.

When they finally broke apart, I crossed back to my father, who stood with the other elven parents under the awning. His eyes narrowed. "You've made a spectacle of yourself."

"Yes, I know. But it's better than the alternative." I wouldn't become one of those drones. I refused.

He raised an eyebrow, then led me toward the city's main spire. His robes whooshed quietly. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, wishing I could have danced a little longer. How was it that children could so easily forget all their worries and live in the moment? I swore that someday that would be my life. Someday, I would live in a place where I could simply live and not worry about anything else. A tiny, nagging Albert told me it would never happen, but I tried my best to ignore him.

We passed shops and wide, sprawling libraries, most of them already closed for the evening. On my infrequent visits to Lauressa, I'd always found the place fascinating, with its tall towers and wide arches connecting them. Everywhere I looked I found order, a completely mapped-out space that only an idiot could get lost in. (And yes, I'd gotten lost on almost every visit.) This time at least, I could follow my father through the well-marked and brightly lit passages.

A crowd gathered as we arrived at the palace. We stood in line until we made it through the gate and into the main citadel. Shiny copper-colored tiles covered the large, open spaces inside the castle. Marble statues of past elven royalty decorated the rooms. Vines that reminded me of ivy grew along the walls, giving the palace a feeling of serenity. Pools of water ran along the floor and dropped into shallow waterfalls. The architect had kept the acoustics in mind when designing this place. Everywhere you went, you were sure to hear the calming sound of flowing water.

As we approached the main hall, smells of baked bread and spiced sauces greeted us. My mouth watered, and I realized how little I'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

At the end of a long hallway, twin oaken doors stood ajar. A steady flow of elves passed through. Most wore robes of dark, depressing colors and long hemlines.

We followed them through and entered a domed room. This space was evidence of elven architecture at its finest. The golden dome rose gracefully into the sky, allowing sunlight to pass through during the day and stray moonbeams to illuminate it at night. Fairies fluttered through the air. I noticed tiny fairy houses built artfully into the twelve pillars that surrounded the room. A circular table sat atop a raised dais in the center of the space. Long rectangular tables fanned out from the table in the middle, creating a sunbeam pattern with the table in the middle as the sun and the other tables as the sunrays.

The sun motif was evident throughout the room. Gold sunbursts had been worked into the tiles on the floor, into patterns on the marble and gold-leafed pillars, and all the way up to the top of the dome, where a sunburst glowed from its apex.

Father took a seat near the back, where a pillar overshadowed us, and where we were less likely to be noticed. Smart move on his part, as I'd already embarrassed him once this evening. Wouldn't want it to happen a second time.

As we sat, servers appeared. They carried trays of food that they placed at each table. Each dish held a different representation of elven agriculture—a basket with breads made from stone-milled elven wheat, a saucer with candied fruit so sweet it made me pucker, sautéed vegetables, and plates of honey-glazed cakes.

I tried to remember the last time I'd eaten a genuine elven meal and came up short. Like everything they created, their food was perfection. I wondered how they managed to stay thin.

"There's quite a gathering tonight," Father remarked as he handed me a plate piled with food.

"Are there usually this many people at these dinners?"

"No, I've never seen such a crowd. I wonder if the high lord intends to make an announcement."

We ate our food quietly. Heaven didn't taste this good. I had the urge to eat as much and as fast as I possibly could, but I restrained myself, instead taking time to savor each bite.

From the doorway, a crowd of elves dressed in silver and white robes appeared, contrasting with the drab colors of the throng. The high lord I recognized by his headdress. He wore a round velvet cap. Layers of sheer fabric covered his wispy strands of white hair, leaving only his face uncovered. Silver thread had been woven into the fabric, creating a pattern of leaves and vines. The high lord's family crest, a golden Gryphon, was stitched onto his robes and headdress.

The elven lord walked with an air of authority, although I noticed his shoulders were more stooped. He was old, even by elven standards.

We rose as the high lord stepped atop the dais. He waved at the crowd and smiled, though it looked strained. He offered a few solemn words of greeting, told us to enjoy the meal, and then sat.

"He's late," Father remarked as we took our seats. "This is very unusual."

I glanced at the high lord, noticing he only took a small portion of food that he nibbled with arthritic fingers. "Is he well?" I asked Father quietly.

"Yes, he's quite well." Father snuck a quick look at the ruler and then turned back to me. "For someone of his age."

The other elves took their seats around us. The VIPs filed in behind the ruler. They sat at the table in the center. I hadn't paid much attention to them at first, but as the last few gathered in, my gaze snagged on the tall brute at the back, walking with a waif of an elven angel at his arm.

Kull had cleaned up. He wore dark leather pants, a tailored vest, and his slightly damp hair glowed in the fairies' light. His hand was pressed to Euralysia's back in a possessive way, as if to say, _she's mine, folks, keep your distance or I'll break your skulls_. She whispered something into his ear, and he smiled at her, a genuine, boyish grin that lit up his whole face. He'd never smiled at me like that before. And that's when I realized what a delusion I'd lived in. Kull the Skullsplitter wasn't for me. He never had been.

I pushed my plate away as hunger escaped me.

_Ugh. I hadn't expected this._

Kull and his bride-to-be took their seats at the round table near the high lord. Euralysia pushed her braided hair off her shoulder. She wore an artfully cut gown that left her neck and slim shoulders bare. The pearl-white fabric looked mirror smooth as it cascaded to the ground.

The first time I'd seen her, I'd gotten the impression she was a practitioner, a very powerful one. That feeling only increased as I looked on her tonight. Her beauty made a poor mask for her power, though I knew Kull couldn't see it.

# Chapter Thirty-Three

"You're not hungry?" Father asked me.

"Not anymore."

He followed my gaze as I fixated on Kull. I tried not to stare at him, but I couldn't seem to stop. I'd been so naïve to think I had a chance with him. But that was partially his fault. When we'd crossed to Earth, he'd known his memories would be erased. He could break my heart and get away with it.

"The Wult prince has returned, I see," Father said. "Didn't you travel with him?"

"I traveled with him." I tried not to let my father hear the contempt in my voice.

"He seems quite taken with the princess."

"Yes, he does."

_Stupid, stupid thing to say, Dad._

"And she with him. It will be a good arrangement for us all, I believe. There has been so much turmoil with the Wults of late. Their wedding will bring unity to both races."

Was Father completely blind? Did he take social cues at all? Bill decided it for me—elves were completely clueless when it came to relationships. No wonder Mom and Dad had split up.

"Are you well?" Father asked me.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You look pale."

A water pitcher sat near my platter. I grabbed it up and took a sip without bothering to pour it in my goblet. Kull had played me. I realized it now. Perhaps he'd been attracted to me, perhaps I'd interested him for a time, but he'd never meant for anything serious to happen between us. I'd known all along. Why did this come as such a surprise? I took a long gulp of water, feeling its coolness calm me.

I'd almost dumped Brent for this guy. What was wrong with me? At least Brent was there for me.

The rest of the evening passed with a tedious slowness. My dad made small talk, but I wasn't interested in small talk. With my curt replies, I think he must have supposed he'd said something to offend me.

We left the elven hall. The cool evening brought little relief to my suffering. It wasn't Kull that bothered me so much as myself. I'd been stupid. I'd created feelings for him, he hadn't done that. I'd wanted him. He had nothing to do with it. I was mad at myself, and I also hated myself a little for letting my heart go so easily. This would be a lesson. I would never again fall for someone who didn't have the same feelings.

We stepped out onto the street. A brisk wind gusted past. Father offered me a cloak, and I took it, using its cowl to hunch under. The cobbled pathways wound through the towering buildings. I started to follow Father home, but he stopped. He rounded, as if he saw someone behind us. I turned but saw no one.

"Everything okay?" I asked him.

He didn't answer.

Voices came to us from the buildings. His eyes darted in a nervous gesture. What had him so spooked?

"There is an inn with approved sleeping chambers not far from here. Shall I escort you?"

"An inn?"

"I believe it would be wise if we remained apart."

"Why?"

"Must I explain everything to you?"

He sounded frustrated. Had I made him angry? I suppose I had, although this time, I really hadn't meant to upset him.

"Am I in danger?"

"No. As long as we remain apart, you shall be well enough." He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and handed them to me. "This will cover your expenses for the night. I must return to my chambers with haste."

"Are you in danger?" I asked.

He dodged my question and gave me the directions, which sounded very basic and uncomplicated, wished me luck with the pixies, and then went on his way without another word. I watched him go, his lean, willowy frame blending with the shadows, disappearing until nothing remained but an empty street.

I breathed in the night air, wanting to be back in my apartment, wishing I'd never dealt with Wults or elves or my father. He couldn't even extend the courtesy of letting me stay in his home. Just when I thought we were starting to get along. Why couldn't life be simple for once?

Elven buildings loomed over me as if I stood in some strange, alien city and not the place of my birth. I started walking, thinking more of my father's troubled expression than his directions. Was he in danger? He hadn't given me an answer. I could only assume that he was.

Soft blue and amber lights shone from artfully spaced windows. I heard quiet conversations, a person or two passed me, and then the tall, graceful buildings were replaced with shorter ones.

The streets were labeled with stone pillars on either side, the sign on the right indicated the through street, the sign on the left marked the cross street. According to the road markers, I stood on Chalandria, the cross-street was Galadian. He'd told me the cross-street would be Arien.

_Oh boy._

I turned around. Had I missed a street somewhere? I backtracked. I must have missed it, but the streets were so well marked, I should have seen it. Homes replaced the taller buildings, their blue-tiled roofs reminding me of something I might have seen in Greece. But this couldn't be right. I should have been in the commerce ward.

I stopped, feeling frustrated, tired, and ready to lie down in the street and sleep on the paving stones.

Elves are so great. Their cities are so orderly, blah, blah.

The roads seemed to blur together until I succeeded in becoming utterly lost. I wasn't sure which way was north or south anymore. But in my defense, the poles are switched in Faythander, and keeping directions straight after spending years on Earth is very confusing.

Finally, I found a city park. Trees rose like church spires around a pond. Stone benches surrounded the water as it lapped quietly to shore. I heard the hummingbird-like sound of nobbinflies flitting over the water, their long-plumed tails reflecting the moonlight.

I crossed to the pond, my soft-soled shoes crunching over the short blades of grass, and collapsed on the bench. Tomorrow's trip to the pixie kingdom wouldn't be easy, especially after spending the night on a bench. I curled up on the cold stone, trying to think of anything but my discomfort. The soft material of my father's cloak fell over my face. The fluttering of the nobbinflies' wings lulled me, yet I found sleep wouldn't come.

Why had my dad abandoned me? I'd felt we'd made a connection, yet once again, I was alone. Was he angry with me? Was he afraid of me or afraid of something else? I had no way to tell.

"Lost?" I heard a familiar voice and bolted upright. The cloak fell off my face, and I was certain my hair stuck up in every direction. It had to be the Skullsplitter himself, and he just had to find me sleeping on a park bench looking like this.

"You've been following me?" I asked him.

"Of course not. I've been wandering this wood for hours now until you showed up and destroyed my solitude."

"Your ability to lie is almost as bad as your choice in women."

He leaned back his head and laughed, a real, deep belly laugh that scared the poor nobbinflies. They skittered away as if someone had shot at them. "Still feisty, I see, even after enduring an evening with the elves."

I stretched and felt my muscles ache in protest. Of all the people to show up. And at this hour. Shouldn't he have been with his delicate elven angel?

"What are you doing out here?" I asked him.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I got lost," I admitted. "I was trying to find the inn, which I am certain does not exist. Why are you here?"

He sat beside me. I scooted away from him. In part, because I didn't want him getting a good look at my bloodshot eyes and mussed hair, and also because being close to him was dangerous—my racing heart and knotted stomach proved it.

"You seemed unwell at the gathering. I assumed it was because of your father."

"It wasn't."

"But you looked—"

"I know how I looked. Do you have to bring that up over and over? I looked unwell. Yes, thank you. I know."

He eyed me. "I also came here to deliver a message."

"A message?"

"I spoke with Euralysia about the goblin skeleton we found in Mog's chambers."

I sat up straighter. This might be worth listening to. "Did she know why a goblin was buried there?"

"Yes, she believes the Mogs were imposters. The carving we found of the ship with the goblin near the shore tells the story. They moved to the Wultlands soon after the Vikings' arrival. They were goblins who disguised themselves as Wults and integrated into the society. Eventually, the Mogs broke away from the Wult society. There is no record of them for a time, not until the Caxon appeared. I believe the Caxon are descendants of Mog."

"If it's true, then that means the Caxon are involved in my godson's capture. Yet it makes no sense—Geth had no knowledge of my godson. His own children were missing."

"Geth and his followers are only one faction. The rest of the Caxon are led by someone else, someone, I suspect, much more powerful. Euralysia could not say who, but I believe they are responsible for summoning the Dreamthief and stealing your godson."

"But why would the Caxon go to such extreme measures?"

"To live a better existence, perhaps. I cannot say for certain."

I mulled it over. "If this is true, then it means the Caxon could be anywhere, wearing any skin they choose, infiltrating governments if they wanted."

"I do not think so."

"Why?"

"It goes against their nature. The Caxon, though in appearance seem human, are still goblins. It would be more likely for goblins to stay hidden while accomplishing their work. Becoming head magistrate might make sense to us, but for a goblin, it would be too risky. Find the cracks, break the system from the inside, this is the way a goblin thinks."

"It's not altogether a bad idea."

"No, and that's what frightens me."

The wind stirred, making the tree limbs creak. Kull's revelation meant that goblins had the ability to plant themselves anywhere. My godson's captors could be right in front of me, and I would never know it. I had no way of determining who they were. For now, the only choice I had was to keep going in the same direction.

I glanced at Kull, who stared out over the lake with a brooding expression. "Are you still mad at me?" I asked him.

He turned, brows knitted. I don't think he was prepared for the change in subject.

"Because if you are, then I understand. I broke my promise." I don't know where this came from. Obviously, I had some wires loose in my head. I hadn't planned on apologizing. Why did I do it?

"I was angry," he admitted.

"Are you still angry?"

He took his time before answering. "You are not Wult, and so you do not understand my ways. Oath-breaking is not looked on kindly by my people."

I got the hint. I'd betrayed him. He came here to give me a message, not rehash our feelings.

"Thank you for the message. I'd prefer if you left now."

"You want me to leave you on this bench?"

"Yes, I do."

"You intend to spend your night here?"

"It's really none of your business, is it?"

"I will leave if that's what you wish."

"I do."

He stood. I watched him go. I'd been rude, probably ruder than I needed to be. In truth, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't remember what had happened on Earth. I was angry with him for something he had no control over. But it hurt to be around him. It hurt to know I couldn't have him. It hurt deep in my soul with a burning ache that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Kull, wait," I called.

He turned. Magic lanterns glowed from sconces in the tree's limbs, casting bluish light over his face.

I exhaled. This wouldn't be easy. "I'm leaving tomorrow," I told him. "I'm traveling to the pixie kingdom."

"Pixies?"

I nodded.

He crossed back to me, looking perplexed. "You realize they are a violent breed?"

I laughed. "You make them sound like animals."

"Some of them are."

"You've dealt with the pixies?"

He hesitated before speaking. "On occasion. It never ended well. Olive," he said and sat beside me once again, "they are fierce. They do not hold the same respect for life as you do. What are your intentions with them?"

"I'd hoped to chitchat, maybe catch up on the weather, and perhaps beg them for their most prized possession."

"You are joking, yes?"

"Only about the first part."

His mouth gaped. "You are serious?"

"Afraid so."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because I have no choice. Because they're in possession of a tree that contains pure magic, which is the only way I'll break through the wall that's imprisoned my godson."

"A tree?"

"It's the only thing left in Faythander that holds pure magic. I have to get it. Somehow."

"I've heard of this tree. Many brave warriors have tried to claim its magic. They are all dead now."

"You're so supportive, Kull. As usual."

"I mean only to warn you of the dangers. Is there pure magic somewhere else?"

"Not that I'm aware of. And even if there was, I wouldn't have time to find it."

"Are you determined to do this?"

I debated his question. I'd fought so long for Jeremiah, and now for all the other children involved. Quitting had never been an option. "I am."

He stared out across the pond. The cheerfulness left his voice. "I shall assemble my elite Wult squadron to accompany you. They are the strongest fighters in all of Faythander. The princess has perfected a shielding spell, which I can use to protect my warriors. We will be an unstoppable force. We will raze the entire pixie kingdom if need be."

Typical Kull—always ready to rush into battle. "I appreciate the concern, but I think charging in with a squadron of warriors would send the wrong message. I intend to go alone, and to go peacefully. It's the only advantage I've got."

_That, and Daddy's ring stuffed in my pocket._

"Perhaps a smaller force, then? I shall choose only a few of the best—"

"No."

"I cannot convince you to reconsider?"

"Afraid not."

He sighed, sounding resigned to letting me do things my way. "You'll find the pixie king impossible to deal with. He does not understand outsiders. He is intolerant and will take any measure to keep his kingdom secluded, including executing outsiders. If you do manage to convince him to let you cross into his lands, he'll have you followed. You will never be alone. If you take one step out of line, his bowmen will not hesitate to put an arrow through your heart. I do not understand how you intend to retrieve one of their most sacred talismans."

"You sound as if you've dealt with him once or twice, yet I see that you're still alive."

"Only because I was not alone."

This brought back memories of something Heidel had said when we'd first met—something about Kull and the pixie king's daughter. "Your sister saved you?"

"Yes, though you must never tell her that I admitted it to you."

Heidel would love to hear this. I had to tell her.

"Olive, do you swear it?"

"Do I have to?"

"Of course you do!"

I crossed my arms. "Fine, I swear it. But only if you swear not to send a squadron of warriors after me. Heaven knows I get into enough trouble by myself."

He looked at me as if I'd caught him red-handed.

"Swear it, Kull."

"I will not."

"You will. Or Heidel finds out about the truth."

He narrowed his eyes. "You are blackmailing me?"

"If that's what it takes."

"And what if you should die in the pixie kingdom? Have you considered the possibility?"

"Of course I have."

"You answer too quickly, which leads me to believe that you have not. You must think about the consequences first. How would your father feel if he lost you?"

"My father?"

"Or anyone else?"

"Oh, Kull. Are you saying you'd miss me? That's so sweet. Shall I tell Heidel about this, too?"

He crossed his arms. "I feel you are becoming more bothersome than she is. And you've also become an expert at dodging my questions."

"I have not."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. The patter of nobbinfly wings returned. I guess they thought it was safe. Poor them.

"I'm honest with you. I'm probably too honest sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Yes."

"If so, then tell me what happened in Earth Kingdom."

_Uh-oh._

"I already have. We found the dinosaur. You decided you'd rather help me than try to retrieve it. We came back."

"That is not what I'm referring to."

My cheeks reddened. I hoped it was too dark for him to notice. "Nothing happened," I mumbled.

He eyed me. I knew he didn't believe me. "Nothing at all?"

"That's right. Nothing at all." I glanced at him to gauge his reaction. He looked at me through suspicious eyes.

"You are lying, Olive."

"How would you know?"

"You've acted differently since we returned. You are more guarded around me. More distrusting. Did I do something to offend you?"

I didn't want to have this conversation right now. I didn't want to have it ever. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want you to come stalking after me anymore. I don't want to see you anymore, actually. I think you are a nice guy, and a very excellent warrior, and you'll make Euralysia a blissfully contented bride, but I don't need your protection. I don't need you. I'm sorry it has to turn out like this. But in the end, it's the only way it can turn out."

He stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the water. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but also didn't want to know. "Very well," he finally said.

My heart didn't break as bad as I'd expected it to as I watched him walk away. In truth, it was already broken. In a way, this was a good thing, because I had the chance to move on, and now, so did he. I could forget him and focus on more important things—like saving my godson's life. He could focus on his marriage.

I lay down on the bench, wishing this night would just end already. A headache throbbed behind my eyes. I swore to forget Kull. Yet, when I finally drifted off to sleep, I heard quiet footsteps.

Through half-opened eyes, I watched him sit beneath a tree and lean against the trunk. He stayed until morning.

# Chapter Thirty-Four

I sat inside the light carriage, my head nodding as I tried to stay awake. Morning hadn't come fast enough. My dreams haunted me. When I'd finally woken to a park full of brightly dressed children, I limped away, no longer in the mood for dancing. They'd stared at me as if I were some sort of goblin with my greasy hair, limp, and dark circles under my eyes.

I'd smiled at them, but I think I only succeeded in scaring them more.

At first, I'd decided against the light-rails, remembering what had happened last time. But I wouldn't find a faster way to the pixie kingdom, and time was something that was never in my favor. I decided to risk it.

A quiet hum filled the carriage. The white-and-gold seat cushions made me feel as if I sat inside a limo instead of an economy carriage.

My night on the park bench had taken all my energy. I knew it was a bad idea to sleep, but I couldn't seem to shake it off. I rationalized that I would need the rest and let my eyes close.

When I awoke, I peered through the windows to discover I'd traded mountains for flatland. I was passing through the grasslands. Tall stalks of green grass stretched as far as I could see. I was closer to my destination, though I still had a few hours yet.

The coach sped through the grasslands so fast the landscape blurred. Occasionally, I passed a tree or a stone hovel, sometimes a village. As dusk approached, my legs grew tired from sitting, my belly grew empty, and with the quickness of the speed of thought, the coach slowed. We stopped on the outskirts of a village.

The carriage had read my thoughts. Creepy when I pondered it—what else could it do? Could it store my thoughts? Could it repeat them to someone? Best not to think about it, I decided.

The carriage door whooshed open, and I stepped out.

As I walked through the streets, I realized the village was little more than a Wult outpost. These things cropped up everywhere and in every kingdom except the goblin lands. I found an inn, ate a meal of Wult stew, stretched my legs, and then resumed my journey. I couldn't afford to lose more time.

Night drew near, and the last slanting rays of sunlight filtered through the window, casting an orange glow over the ivory interior. I pulled Father's ring box from my pocket and opened it, studying the tiny diamond and metal band, wondering what magic I could discover that would keep the pixies from killing me.

Discovering a new magic word was difficult, mainly because there was no set way to do it. The word chose when it would come to you, not the other way around. I studied the ring, whispering a few words and hoping to find the right one.

"Trust," I said.

Nothing.

"Belief."

Again, no reaction.

"Honor, integrity, faith."

The magic remained dormant. After trying a few more words, I finally gave up. I wasn't ready.

I'd hardly spoken to anyone all day. It should have unnerved me. Instead, I enjoyed the solitude. The conversations I'd had with Kull and my father had been dramatic enough to keep me entertained for a few more weeks at least.

Night replaced evening. From the windows, I watched tiny orbs of light flit past the carriage. Some were the lights of buildings in the distance. Others were flocks of fairies. The closer we drew near, the more my apprehension increased, and I found that sleep wouldn't come.

_Better to stay awake_ , I thought, _and not repeat the same mistake I'd made on my last carriage trip into the Borderlands._

Up ahead, what appeared to be a massive mountain came into view, though I knew it was not a mountain. I'd made it. The trip had gone so smoothly I wondered if my luck was changing for once.

We approached the lighted hill. The form of an enormous tree stump began to take shape. Lights glowed inside, illuminating the curved root system.

This was one of the most amazing sights in Faythander. The pixies lived in the Ever Root Tree, a giant tree that had lived thousands of years ago. It must have been as tall as a skyscraper during its lifetime. Now, all that remained was a large stump, plus its entire root system that jutted from the ground. It was the largest specimen of petrified tree I had ever seen and most likely the largest one on either planet. It stood as tall and broad as a mountain.

The closer we got, the more I realized how unprepared I was. I had a box, my wits, and nothing else.

When the carriage stopped, I took a deep breath and stepped outside. As soon as I stepped away, the carriage zipped backwards, leaving me alone on a grassy plain that stretched toward the pixie city.

I grasped the box tight in my fist and thought of Jeremiah. I could do this.

I had only taken three steps when a pair of pixie guards materialized from the grass and blocked my path.

Pixies, on Earth, were thought of as fairy-like beings. It was a lie. I didn't know how Earth dwellers came up with the idea of pixies being cute little woodland sprites, but it couldn't be more wrong.

Take these two pixie guards, for example. They each stood about seven feet tall. Their wings reminded me of a dragonfly's, though curved, black spikes protruded from the ends. When not braided, their cotton-white hair stuck up like a treasure troll's. Their dark, scaly skin made the perfect camouflage, and they wore minimal clothing, usually just enough to cover the important parts.

Pixies used primitive weapons, though it didn't decrease their effectiveness. These guards each carried spears with blackened tips. Poison, I was sure. A pixie's knowledge of plants and their properties was unsurpassed.

"Stop now, or risk your death," the first guard said, speaking with a thick accent.

I held up my hands. "I come peacefully. I wish to speak with your king."

"Not possible," the second guard said. "He dwells within the inner tree. Outsiders are not allowed."

"This is very important. The survival of our entire world is at stake."

The spears' tips loomed in my vision. What would happen if I got pricked by one? I hoped I never found out.

"You lie," the first guard said.

"No." I stood tall. They wouldn't intimidate me, although, in all fairness, they could have killed me in three minutes flat. "I speak the truth. I was sent by the king of dragons himself to deliver this warning."

I supposed it was pretty close to the truth. If I'd been in better contact with my adoptive father, I'm sure he would have agreed.

"Sky King?" The first guard narrowed his eyes.

"Are you his ward?" the second asked.

_Aha!_ We were getting somewhere. A little name-dropping never hurt.

"I am."

They glanced at the sky as if Fan'twar would drop from the heavens any minute and bite their heads off. Not all races respected my stepfather the way the pixies did, but I felt grateful they had a healthy amount of fear where he was concerned.

"Take me to your king," I demanded.

They glanced at each other, perhaps debating whether I told the truth or not. "How do we know you won't try to kill us?"

I held my hands a little higher. "I have no weapons."

The first guard grabbed my collar. He searched my clothes. I held my breath. After he'd patted me down, both guards grabbed me under the arms. I'd expected them to put me in restraints, perhaps tie my hands or ankles. Instead, they grabbed me up and held my arms tight.

"I wouldn't squirm if I were you," the first guard said and then smiled. Rows of pointed teeth filled his mouth.

If I'd been in panic mode, he might have frightened me. A loud, zipping noise filled the air as they flitted their wings. Pixie wings didn't flap as a bird's would have, but rather beat like a hummingbird's. They lifted off the ground with me stuck between them.

My first thought: squirm. Try to break free. There wasn't a chance on this planet or the other that I would let them take me this way.

My second thought: hold on.

We crossed the grass field and traded it for a clear, dark sky. Wind rushed past us. The sound of beating wings filled my ears as the lights of the pixie city drew nearer. Thousands of stairways and bridges interconnected the massive root system, reminding me of the tunnel system in an ant bed, all lit with bauble lanterns that glowed in various shades of orange and blue and green. It was an amazing sight. Had I not been pinned between two warriors with Herculean grips, I might have enjoyed it.

A full moon glowed over the city. The guards dropped, and my stomach dropped with them. They were going to kill me. I was certain of it. They were going to drop me to my death and be rid of me.

Instead, they lowered me toward a wooden platform. When our feet touched, they released me, though they stayed close enough to grab me if I decided to run. In all honesty, I couldn't go anywhere. There was only one exit off the platform, a narrow, wooden-planked bridge that was guarded. The edges of the platform dropped off, and we must have been fifty feet up. This was a place created for beings that controlled flight—falling to their deaths wasn't something they took into consideration. It was evident in the stairways without handrails, the bridges that were little more than a rope strung with wood. I was out of my element here.

The distant sound of beating wings drifted toward us. One of my guards barked something at the pixie by the bridge. He gave me a curious stare, said something back, and then took off. The guards marched me to the bridge.

At least they held my arms as we crossed. I wasn't sure my balance was good enough to keep me from plummeting to the bottom. As we crossed, the pixie kingdom sprawled before me. My mouth gaped.

I could describe it in one word: huge.

From the outside, I'd expected it to be large, but this was mammoth. I felt like an insect. Bridges and staircases wove around the petrified root system. Pixies darted from one branch to the next, their wings glossy under the colorful baubles.

We stepped off the bridge and onto a narrow stairway that wound up a branching root. As we climbed, I wondered why the pixies had bothered with stairs or bridges, but then I realized they probably weren't the only species living down here, and after a long day, I'm sure they grew weary of flying.

Amber light glowed from the baubles along the stairway. I wondered where they were taking me. To their leader as I'd asked?

We reached the top. Instead of finding the pixie king, I found a walled-in room with a row of prison cells.

_Really? They're treating me as a prisoner? Even after I'd asked nicely?_

Fine. If that's how it would be, then I could play this game.

"You shouldn't lock me up," I said to the guards.

"You shouldn't have come here," the one on my right replied.

"You're making a mistake."

He ignored me as he marched me to one of the cells. The roots had been artfully crafted to make prison bars. The door flowed so seamlessly with the bars that I didn't even notice it until my captor opened it up.

I stared inside the dark room, barely larger than my bathroom back home, and I lived in an economy apartment. I hadn't expected a warm reception, but this was harsh.

They shoved me in and clicked the door shut behind me. An acrid scent of feces came from the room and threatened to make me gag. I wondered who the previous occupants had been, and if they'd been lucky enough to be set free.

My pixie captor stared at me through the bars, the orange lights making his face look more threatening. "You are fortunate we haven't killed you. Most outsiders don't make it this far."

He pointed down. The platform we stood on stretched high into the air. From my vantage point in my cell, I could only get a partial view, yet I was able to follow his gaze to the very bottom.

It was so dark I might have missed it, though a few lights reached the bottom and illuminated a tiny space of the great tree's sprawling floor. White dots peeked from the darkness. Large mushrooms of some sort or...

"Skulls," the guard explained. "Bones. The remains of those who did not prove their worth."

My eyes grew wide. I peered more closely. Though it was too high for me to tell exactly, the white objects could have easily been human remains.

My stomach sank.

I should have listened to Kull. When he'd warned me about the pixies, I'd honestly thought he had said it just to make me not go. Looked like he was right. Ugh.

"Those who do not prove their loyalty are executed. Their remains serve as reminders to those who are not worthy." He leaned closer. "Like you."

Both guards laughed, an arrogant sound that was devoid of real emotion. I'd only met a few pixies in my lifetime, but they hadn't acted like this. I supposed, being in their territory, they viewed me as a threat.

Albert provided me with a mental note—never deal with pixies again.

_Thanks, Al._ He could have spoken up sooner.

"Soon, you will prove your intentions to us," the guard said. "Whether they be loyal or false. And then you shall become another decoration under our feet," one of the guards said before they both fluttered their wings and flew off, leaving me alone in my cell.

I sat on the floor, as there was nowhere else to sit. No furniture, no food, nowhere to use the bathroom. These pixies had some nerve. I swore I would tell my stepfather about this. He'd raze this place in a heartbeat.

But I'd have to be alive to do that, wouldn't I?

Perhaps I could escape and look for the pure magic on my own. I realized I needed their permission, but what were the odds of getting it? They'd locked me up just for being here; what would they do if I tried to take their precious tree?

I inspected the bars more closely, detecting a faint enchantment. The pink-tinted, pixie magic felt unfamiliar to me. I debated on spellcasting the cell bars to break them down, but that could be risky. I didn't know pixie magic as well as I should have, and I could end up blowing the place to bits—and me along with it.

Magic was out. What else could I do to get free?

"Rotten luck, isn't it?"

I heard a female voice and jumped to my feet. In the cell next to mine, a pixie woman stirred. She lay on the floor with a tatty gray blanket covering everything but her head and neck. I wondered why I hadn't seen her sooner and realized her blanket made excellent camouflage.

Her soft, cottony hair stuck up in every direction. She had full, round lips and dark eyes. She might have been beautiful if it weren't for her sunken cheeks, protruding collarbones, and the look of madness glinting in her eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked and took a step away from her.

Her smile only increased my suspicions of her insanity. "I am called Uli. Are you elven?"

"Half," I told her.

"Half?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Half-human," I clarified.

Her eyes widened. "Human! Very good. I adore humans." She said the word "human" the way a food critic would say "fresh Maine lobster." She stuck her hands through the bars and extended one to me, palm up. "This is how humans greet, is it not?"

I inspected her hand, wrapped in rags, the untrimmed fingernails filled with dirt. I'm not a germaphobe, but this was pushing it. She held it a few seconds, and finally I gave it a tiny shake. I decided that any alliance I could make in this place, even with a half-crazed pixie, would be in my favor.

"My name is Olive," I told her.

"Yes. You've told me already."

"I have?"

"Of course!"

"When?"

She winked and offered no other explanation.

It wasn't possible that she knew me. I hadn't told the guards my name in front of her. Weird. I filed it away for later review. The most likely scenario was that she was insane and had imagined it.

"Do you know of any way to escape this place?" she asked me.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Have you been here long?"

"Only one night."

"Really?" Given the state of her filth, I found that unlikely.

"I have a nasty bad temper. I spend the night here every moon cycle or so, until I can regain my composure. I am so very fortunate to have lost my temper last night; if not, I'm sure we'd never have met."

"Yes. Fortunate."

_She got thrown in jail for losing her temper? What kind of temper did she have?_

"Uli," I asked her, "do the pixies really kill outsiders like they say? Do you think they'll execute me?"

She sucked on her lip, which made her look a little like a deranged dog. "Hard to say. They haven't killed you yet, which is fortunate. Your chances for living another day are quite good."

"Wow, thanks. I feel so much better."

"Yes! I am so glad you do."

The queen of discerning sarcasm, this one. I rested on the ground once again, watching the lights twinkle from the baubles attached to the winding tree limbs. This wasn't going at all how I'd expected.

Uli wasn't much help, but she knew more about the pixie ways than I did. Surely I could learn something from her, right?

The pixie girl clenched the bars between us, her knuckles white. "Shall I tell you a story?" she asked.

"No, sorry. I'm not really in the mood for stories."

"Oh, that is too bad."

"Yes, it's too bad."

The whirr of fluttering wings came to us from the sprawling city, like the hum of a well-tuned engine. I rested my chin on my knees. Surely I could reason with the pixie king and make him understand how dire my situation was, if I ever got the chance to see him.

"Have you met the pixie king?" I asked Uli.

"Ha! Everyone has. He is our king, yes?"

"Is he a fair king?"

"He is our supreme judge. He is strong. His might will conquer all enemies who come into our lands. His sword will crush those who wish to conquer, bleed the lifeblood from intruders, grind the bones of our attackers, mutilate—"

"Uli," I cut her off. "Thanks, I actually wanted to know if he's willing to let outsiders pay a visit to the tree containing pure magic?"

"The sprout of the Ever Root?"

"Is that what your people call it?" I'd never heard it called a sprout before. Interesting name, as it was supposed to be the oldest tree in Faythander.

"It has many names," Uli explained. "Some call it the Eternal Tree, others call it the Everblossom. But, to give answer to your question, none are allowed to view it, not even me."

"Have you tried?"

She laughed. "I am still alive, aren't I?"

Great. So even the pixies were murdered for trying to find the tree. This was quickly becoming an impossible task. Darn it all—Kull had been right. I should've tried to find pure magic somewhere else, at least then I wouldn't be stuck in this cage awaiting my own death.

"Do you at least know where the tree is?" I asked Uli.

She cocked her head sideways. I wasn't sure if she meant to tell me, or if she thought I was mad for asking her. "I do," she whispered. "Though I am not supposed to know."

Finally, some good news. Now all I had to do was get us free, avoid execution, and allow a questionably sane pixie girl to guide me to the tree. Piece of cake.

"I found it once," she explained. "When I was younger. I was a very curious child. My mother called me her nosy one. Always into something. I'd heard stories of the tree and its great powers. I determined that I could not rest until I had found it. After I felt as though I'd searched everywhere, I found it in a very unlikely place. It wasn't even guarded! So I went to it, and that's when I saw the vision that got me into trouble, that made me..." She tugged on her tatty clothes.

"Made you what?"

"Made me a simpleton."

"The tree made you go mad?"

"Not mad," she snapped. "I have not gone mad."

"Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. The tree showed you a vision?"

Her gaze left mine. She stared out through the bars. Slanted pools of light rested on the floor and shone over the sunken features of her face. She seemed older somehow, and sad. "I do not speak of it," she whispered.

The tree had shown her a vision, and it had only cost her sanity. If I found the tree, would it do the same thing to me?

_Best not to worry about it now_ , Bill Clinton offered.

"Uli, if we escape from here, could you take me to the tree?"

"Why do you wish to see it?"

"I need its magic."

She drew back as if I'd thrown a snake in her face. "You cannot! It is forbidden. You will be killed for sure."

That was nothing new. I had to get through to Uli. How could I make her understand how important this was? "I really don't have a choice. There's a little boy that I care for. His name is Jeremiah. He's very sick and close to death. I need the pure magic so I can break through a wall and get to him. It's so important that if I don't rescue him, he'll die. The rest of our world may die with him."

"You speak the truth?"

"Yes."

She sucked on her lip again as she mulled it over. "I will think on it."

Her answer wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it was a step in the right direction. I knew time worked against me. The longer I sat here, the longer Jeremiah had to wait. "Uli, Jeremiah is like a son to me. Do you have any children? Or brothers or sisters?"

"Ha!" She looked at me as if I were the mad one.

"Don't you have a family?" I asked her.

"I have my mother and father. My brothers are dead. My parents found a husband for me once. He lived very far away and did not know of my condition."

She spotted a bug on the floor. With dexterous fingers, she grabbed it and then stuffed it in her mouth. My stomach turned as she ground the bug between her teeth.

"A friend told me of this man who was to be my husband."

She couldn't keep her mouth shut while she chewed. I looked away.

"I learned that he'd had three wives, and all three were dead."

"How did they die?

"He'd beaten them. I told my parents what I'd learned. They didn't believe me. I was to marry this man who killed his wives, but—"

The blaring of a horn came in the distance. Under the tangle of stone roots, a flock of pixies darted through, flying so fast they became a blur. Uli sat up, staring through the bars with apprehension.

Another blast from the horn came, shaking the ground under our feet.

"No," Uli said in a hushed voice.

"Is something wrong?" I asked. The blaring from the horn became insistent, so loud I had to cover my ears. A few pixies carrying spears flew past. A moment later, a beast emerged.

I'd never seen one except in books. They were called vexons. They were nasty creatures with long, serpentine heads, wings like a bat's, and a forked, poison-tipped tail, yet it was their hides that made them so dangerous. I knew of no weapon that had pierced through vexon hide. Killing one of the creatures was nearly impossible.

Another beast emerged behind the first. My stomach dropped. The second beast was triple the size of the first. Thick, callused hide covered its body. Horns rimmed its head and tail. My mouth grew dry as it hovered above us, leering with yellow, hungry eyes.

"Yes," Uli answered. "Something is very wrong."

# Chapter Thirty-Five

Shouting came from above us as the warriors descended on the creatures. With only two beasts and a dozen warriors, I'd expected to see a slaughter. It was. Just not the kind I'd hoped for. The pixies didn't have a chance.

A body landed next to us, thankfully still alive. Uli shouted at him. She screamed with a high piercing wail that I swear shattered my eardrums.

The warrior sat up, his eyes blinking slowly. It was then that I recognized him—my old friend who had locked me up.

"Let me out, Mochazon. Let me fight. You know I will fight!"

He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Uli," he growled.

Yells erupted from the battle as the larger beast let out a roar and then spat poison at a warrior. Spitting poison. I had no idea they could do that.

"Let me fight!"

"You will not," he said.

"I will kill those beasts. Let me free!"

"You are safer in there."

"I don't want to be safe."

He scowled as he crawled onto his hands and knees. "You are only trying to run off. You probably called the beasts yourself so you could make your escape."

"No, Mochazon!"

He held a hand to his chest where he'd been stabbed, wobbling on unsteady feet. His wings beat slowly at first and then faster as he soared into the air. I lost sight of him as he flew to battle.

"Mochazon!" Uli shook the bars with such force I was surprised they didn't shatter. She called for him again and again until her voice became hoarse. Finally, she sat back, breathing hard. "He is a fool," she muttered.

Something glinted on the ground where Mochazon had been. I looked closer and found a pair of enchanted keys that glowed with a greenish light. My heart sped up. If I could get the keys, I could finally be free. I reached through the bars and stretched my arm as far as I could. No luck. I was only inches short, but that was enough to keep me from freedom.

I searched the cell. Surely I could find something to help me. I found a few small twigs, but none were long enough. The battle continued raging outside. Uli sat with her head in her hands, silently weeping as the vexons continued their slaughter.

I attempted calling the keys with my magic, but the foreign enchantment kept me from touching them. What other options did I have? They were too far away for Uli to reach. I couldn't reach them physically or with my magic.

I sat on the ground and stared at the keys. They seemed to taunt me.

The noise from the battle reverberated through the ancient tree. A strong gust of air blustered through the cells as the larger vexon swooped past us. The wind gave me an idea. I couldn't touch the keys with magic, but maybe I wouldn't have to.

I called the magic inside me. When I felt ready, I uttered the magic word that would let me control the wind.

_Cirrus._

The wind circulated around me. I collected its power and sent it outward, focusing on enveloping the keys. The wind caught the keys and moved them a fraction of an inch. Clenching my fists, I added my own energy reserves to the spell. Dust spiraled through the air and clouded my vision, but I stayed focused on the keys. They scraped across the ground a few inches more. I let go of the spell before it consumed all my strength. Breathing hard, I clung to the cell bars and stuck my arm through.

Uli ranted excitedly beside me, but I ignored her as I reached for the keys.

This time, I grasped them without trouble and made quick work of unlocking our cells.

Through the haze, Uli darted toward me, the whites of her eyes bright and round. "You did this?" she said, bouncing up and down on her toes. She towered over me, at least a head taller.

"Yes," I answered.

She grabbed me in a hug so fierce my lungs threatened to collapse. "You are my champion!"

"Thanks," I squeaked out.

She pulled away, and her eyes grew grim as she focused on the battle. "We must hurry. My people—they are no good against those beasts—they think spears will kill anything. Bah!" She spat. "Only magic can penetrate the vexon's hide. Quick, follow me." She beat her wings and sped into the sky.

I watched her go, a purplish-green blur that disappeared toward the battle, not sure how she expected me to follow her. I waited on the ledge, peering up at the battle. I searched for Uli, but in the chaos, it became impossible to tell one pixie from another.

Pacing the ledge, I looked for a way off. A narrow bridge was the only exit. It led up to another platform, where I spotted a staircase leading to a tower that overlooked the battle. Approaching the bridge, I realized crossing it would be almost as dangerous as confronting one of those beasts.

I inched onto the narrow boards, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. It wobbled dangerously, and I held my breath, knowing that if I panicked, I would only fall sooner. Somehow I made it across, my heart hammering, sweat slicking the palms of my hands.

After the bridge, climbing the tower wasn't so hard. The steps were narrow, but at least they stayed steady when I walked on them. Screams came from the fray, followed by the shriek of the vexons, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.

The staircase wound around the tower. I followed it up until I entered a small room with large windows on every side.

The view from this angle was more breathtaking than I expected. The pixie tree spread before me like an ancient continent, a sea of stone roots and islands of bright bauble lights. But the storm raging below me sped my heart.

I could use my magic to help in destroying the creatures, but should I risk it? I'd never battled a vexon, and warring with a new species was never as easy as it seemed. They're always full of surprises. The textbooks never really prepared you for that sort of thing. But I couldn't stand here and watch the slaughter. I had to do whatever I could. I hoped the pixies were smart enough to move out of the way.

Uli had said only magic could penetrate the beasts' hides. In my mind, I conjured the word for fire.

I readied my stance, calmed my breathing.

Below me, the smaller creature spun in mid-air, knocking back a warrior with its lethal spiked tail. His screams reverberated, shaking the tree surrounding me.

_Deep breath in._

I extended my arm and whispered the word. Hot fire formed above my fingertips, soft blue at first and then growing in size to a massive, sizzling ball of flames.

I hurled it at the beast. It landed on the monster's back, singeing its wings, which popped with loud crackles as the thin, leathery material ignited.

_Score one for me._

But the giant flame ball engulfed more than just the monster. Several pixies fell back as well, their wings blazing like puffs of cotton. The beast roared with fury. It thrashed back and forth, its giant mouth snapping at the inferno. The few remaining pixies saw their opportunity and reacted. Half a dozen spears thudded into the beast's back, where the flame had consumed it.

It rounded in mid-air. I had no idea how it stayed in flight, but it managed to thrash its tail, coming dangerously near me.

Snakelike yellow eyes met mine. I froze. In that moment, I knew those beasts weren't here for a meal. They'd come for me.

I took a step back.

The beast lunged and hit the tower. The ground shook, though I managed to stay upright.

It charged again before I could ready another spell. The tower wobbled beneath me, and I fell to the ground. Rough paving stones scraped my elbows. The creature hissed and rammed the tower again as I tried to sit up.

I crawled to my feet. Fear sped my movements as I realized I had little chance of destroying the beast. My magic was fading. I needed a way to conserve my energy, but my frantic thoughts wouldn't let me concentrate.

Something whizzed past my head. A spear clattered to the tower's floor. I snatched it up, not certain it could help me, but hoping it might.

If I could focus my magic through the spear, perhaps it would help me preserve my power. I willed my magic through the spear. Bright orange fire glowed from the spear's tip. When the vexon hovered close enough, I released the fire, sending another blast of fire at its wings. They ignited without a hitch, but the beast used its momentum to hit the tower with more force than I'd felt so far.

The tower groaned, a heavy sound that seemed to emanate from the center of the earth. This wasn't a small tremor like the last attacks, but a rumble that made the tower slowly tip.

_Not good._

I grabbed at the floor, trying to find some sort of handhold. As the tower tipped more, I finally grabbed a pillar between the windows and clung to it, feeling the world disappear below me.

Tree roots spun in my vision. I leapt before I had a chance to think twice. My spear snagged on a jutting root, and fear squirmed through me as I dragged myself onto a ledge. As I did, the tower toppled, plummeting down with a force so great I heard the enormous whoosh loud in my ears.

It took what was left of the vexon with it, the beast screaming with fury. Moments later, I heard the tower smash to the bottom. A giant dust cloud rose up in its place.

Sweat slicked my palms as I crept along the ledge to higher ground. I inched toward a broad, flat ledge where I collapsed.

My magic had drained my energy. I needed time to rest. Across the chasm, I spotted the last beast.

I'd never seen a vexon so huge. Where did these things breed? It had to be forty feet long at least. When it lashed its tail, it sent half a dozen pixies to the ground. Warriors slung coils of ropy vines around the monster, but it shrugged them off.

They hurled torches at the monster's wings. The beast spun so fast it became a blur, and the torches sputtered uselessly to the ground.

A pixie landed on the ledge beside me. I recognized him. Mochazon's breathing was labored as he turned to me. "Did you kill that beast?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Barely."

"Let me fly you to the other creature," he said. "You must destroy it the way you have destroyed the first."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Why?"

"My magic needs time to recharge. I would be useless."

"But you killed the first!"

"Yes, but I used all my magic to do it."

Across the chasm, thick, yellowish poison spewed from the monster's mouth. It coated the pixies' skin in a foul sludge that stuck to their flesh. The screams of dying warriors came from the fray.

"We cannot waste time. I must fly you to the battle." His voice sounded panicked.

I looked up at him, my magic nearly gone, my lungs begging for air. It would be so easy to stay on this ledge and let the pixies win their own battles. But I knew that if I made that decision, more pixies would die.

No matter how much I disliked them, I couldn't let them die. I could try. That's all I had left.

I gripped my flimsy spear. The world spun in my vision as I stood. I closed my eyes to regain my balance. "I'm ready."

He grabbed me up faster than I thought possible, carrying me with his arms tight around my waist. My breath caught in my throat as we hurtled over the chasm. I tried to focus, to call my magic, but found it impossible.

We neared the monster. Red firelight flickered off its gnarled scales, making him appear even larger than I'd first thought. It focused on me. Calculated intelligence glinted in its eyes.

"Are we close enough?" Mochazon shouted.

Whether we were or not, it didn't matter. The beast reared its serpentine head and flew straight at us.

I pointed my staff at the creature, praying I had enough magic left. Jaws agape, it looked as if it would swallow us up.

I whispered the word to call fire. A streak of flames flew from my staff. It caught the beast's wing, but the monster spun into a barrel roll. The fire extinguished.

Mochazon darted out of the flying serpent's path as it lunged. "Try again," he shouted.

_How?_ I wanted to ask, but didn't have the strength for it.

The beast lashed its forked tail. The tip connected with Mochazon's back, landing with a loud thump. His grip relaxed.

He held me, though I felt his arms slipping. The monster roared as it lashed its tail again. My thoughts slowed. I knew I had no magic left. I would be foolish to use it again. What then? Surely there was something I could do to defeat the monster?

_Use your magic._

It wasn't Albert or Bill who spoke this time. This was my father's voice. But how could I use my magic? I had nothing left. In my pocket, I felt my mother's ring grow warm. Energy flowed from it, surrounding me, giving me strength. A word popped into my head, so real I felt as though my father had spoken it.

_Enter._

But what did it mean? How could I use it?

The pixie's spear was still clutched in my hands. My palms grew sweaty as I realized what I had to do. Nothing could penetrate the vexon's hide. Not fire, not weapons, not even my own magic had pierced the hide. But what of a stronger magic?

" _Enter_!" I shouted as I hurled the spear for the beast's broad chest. The metal tip glowed bright blue as it sliced through the monster's hide and pierced the creature's heart. The monster bellowed with fury.

It flailed and then fell from the sky. As it spiraled downward, it lashed its massive tail into Mochazon. The impact was strong enough to knock the wind from his lungs. He gasped for air as I slipped from his arms.

Terror made my thoughts become a blur. The world spun so fast I couldn't make sense of anything. Panic overwhelmed me. How could I die now? I'd come so close.

I could think of only one thing as I fell.

_Jeremiah, forgive me._

# Chapter Thirty-Six

I screamed as I tumbled through the air with the wind loud in my ears. I had nothing left. My mother's magic had gone into killing the beast.

I tried drawing magic from the ring once again but found it powerless. The ground drew nearer, so close I saw the monsters' and pixies' bodies heaped in piles of gray dust.

Arms encircled me. I opened my eyes to see Uli's broad grin dance in my vision.

"Uli!" I gasped.

We flew up so fast the world became a blend of bright colors. I wasn't dead, I reminded myself.

"You save me. I save you. This is the way of things," she said with pride in her voice.

I slumped in her arms, feeling spent. The wind brushed past my face. I remembered thinking how good it felt to be alive right before I blacked out.

I awoke to the rich smell of sautéed onions and seared meat. Uli squatted by a fire in a stone hearth, stirring a thick broth inside a cauldron. I rose onto my elbows and felt the soft weave of a grass mat beneath me. Woven vines formed a canopy over our heads. Tiny beams of sunlight drifted through the gaps, forming a dappled pattern on the rug-strewn floor.

"You're awake!" Uli said.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a fog in my brain that made my temples hurt. "Ouch."

She crumpled some dried herbs and tossed them into the soup. "You use too much magic. Dangerous."

"How would you know about magic?"

She smiled, though this time it looked less feral. "Would you like my soup?"

I wondered why she'd dodged my question, but the temptation of food pushed the thought from my mind. "Yes, I would love some."

She scooped two ladlefuls of soup into a bowl and handed the broth to me. I took it. The smooth wood turned warm in my hands. Taking a small sip, I felt the heat seep into my belly. It tasted better than it smelled, and I took another sip, realizing the fight had taken more from me than my magic.

Uli raised an eyebrow as she sipped her own soup. "You like it?"

I nodded. Taking another drink, I felt the fog in my head start to disappear. "Where are we?" I asked her, my voice hoarse.

"This is my home."

"You live here by yourself?"

She nodded.

Of the little I'd learned of pixies, I knew they preferred to live in large family groups. I'd never heard of a pixie living alone. It wasn't always a matter of keeping up strong family ties, it was also a matter of practicality. While the Ever Root was huge, it still had a finite amount of space.

"Where is your family?"

"My parents dwell in the innermost part of the tree. Away from me. As is their wish." She took another sip, her eyes not meeting mine. I decided to change the subject.

"Thank you for saving my life. I owe you."

"You freed me from that cage. You do not owe me." She leaned forward. "You have special gifts with magic. I did not realize it when I first saw you. But now I know. You are the Deathbringer."

Deathbringer? I'd heard that name before. What did it mean?

"I am to be your guide," she told me, her voice solemn.

I stared at her, confused. "My guide?"

"To the tree," she clarified.

I almost dropped my bowl. "You will take me there?"

She nodded.

"But I thought it was forbidden."

"It is. But the king has seen your magic. He has granted me permission to be your guide to the tree."

I almost couldn't believe it. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. I went to the inner tree myself and spoke with him. I made him understand. He was angry at first, believing you brought those beasts into our lands. But then he decided your punishment. He will let the tree decide your fate. Many brave warriors have died seeking the tree's magic. If the tree should take your life, or take your mind, then that shall be your punishment."

"I see." I wasn't sure how to react. Part of me felt grateful. Another part of me wished I'd never come here. I took another sip, wondering why Uli had suddenly decided to be my guide. "Uli, what does Deathbringer mean?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You do not know?"

I shook my head.

"It is a legend among our people, and others as well. The first Dragonlord prophesied of her coming nearly thirteen hundred years ago. How do you not know of this? It speaks of you!"

I crossed my arms. "First, if it's as important as you say, then I would have heard about it. The sky king is my father, after all. Second, you can't be certain that it speaks of me."

She leaned forward. "'Marked by death from the beginning—she will come in flame and ash, wielding the fire gifted to her of her fathers. She will cross worlds and mend the rift. She will bring death to the unbelievers, life to those marked by the ancient one. Her life will bring death, for she is the Deathbringer.' Can you deny it? I've seen your fire. You are the dragon's child. It is you."

"Impossible."

"Why?"

"Because Fan'twar would have told me. He studies prophecy. He would have told me." Uli was making it up. It was the only explanation.

"Believe as you wish. But someday you will understand the truth."

I took another sip. Uli, after all, was mad. This must have been part of her delusion. Then again, this wasn't the first time I'd been called Deathbringer. Whenever I saw Fan'twar next, I'd have a few questions to ask.

She stood and placed her empty bowl on the hearth. "We leave when you are ready."

"I'm ready now." I laid my bowl aside and attempted to stand. My knees felt weak and nearly gave out. I needed more rest. I couldn't have slept more than a few hours, but now wasn't the time.

"You are certain?"

"Yes. I need to find that tree."

She picked up a sack and began filling it with jars and glass containers, some with sand or liquid. She picked up one with what looked like snails with spiked ridges down their backs. Opening the jar, she popped one in her mouth, then placed the rest in her bag.

My skin crawled as she crunched down on the snail.

Or maybe she was just as crazy as ever.

"How do you know about the Deathbringer?" I asked her as she tucked more containers in the bag.

"It was a story told to me as a child."

"A story? Then it wasn't prophecy?"

"It was prophecy told so many times it became a story. A legend. Why you have never heard it is strange to me. Unless there is a reason for this. As is with all that happens. There is always a reason. A reason for everything. A purpose." She crunched the snail some more, then made a snorting sound as if she'd gotten some of its slime lodged in her throat. Then, she chewed some more.

I attempted not to vomit.

"I am happy to be the one to tell you. You have a great purpose, Deathbringer."

"Please call me Olive."

"You do not wish to be called by your true name?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Deathbringer sounds a little violent, don't you think? I prefer Olive."

She shrugged and didn't argue, though the unpleasant expression on her face told me she disagreed. She continued packing until she'd stuffed the bag. What she intended to do with all her loot I had no idea. "Are you ready?" she asked me after slinging the bag over her shoulder.

I rubbed my sore ribs. "I suppose so."

"Good." She grabbed me around the waist. My bruised ribs protested. She beat her wings twice, and then we soared out of her home through an open doorway.

I'd barely gotten a moment to rest. Someday, after this was all done with, I planned to spend an entire week at home with nothing but my cat and a few good books.

The sun rose over the pixie kingdom. Majestic spires glistened in the early morning light, bathing the world in gold and amber. The view stole my breath. Uli's grip also stole my breath, but I tried to ignore it.

During the daylight hours, the tree seemed to transform. Pixie children, wearing bright, mismatched colors, darted from holes. Their laughter drifted toward us. Banners of red and gold fluttered from many of the windows. In some places, I saw destruction, though the pixies fluttered around the toppled towers and crumbled roots, repairing them with ancient-looking saws and wooden mallets.

If yesterday's attack had bothered them, it didn't show.

Uli flew away from the familiar courtyard and into a part of the tree I didn't recognize. Deeper into the tree, the familiar bauble lights were lit. Only a few streamers of sunlight penetrated this deep.

# Chapter Thirty-Seven

Uli flew down into the tree, past the glowing baubles, past the laughter and people. Deeper and deeper, until the darkness overtook us.

She pulled a light from her pack. The small, glowing bauble barely illuminated the roots and dirt as we flew faster and faster. A tinkling sound came from somewhere, reminding me of the wind chimes on my mother's porch. Strange. Such a familiar sound seemed wrong in a place as dark as this.

The smell of damp earth filled my nostrils. Uli flew as if she were in a trance, as if, as soon as the pixie king had granted his permission, a spell had been broken. She flew with the stealth of a ghost. Faster and faster, until I was sure we must have flown to the center of the earth. But the tunnel only continued downward. It branched into different directions, but at every cross section, she didn't hesitate.

My ribs ached where she held me. "How far is it?" I called. But either she didn't hear me, or she ignored me.

I estimated that we had flown for several hours by the time we finally stopped at a shallow root outcropping. I sat between two shoots, feeling grateful for a moment's rest. Uli pulled two jars from her pack and passed one to me. "Eat," she said.

I eyed the jar as I removed the lid. I couldn't tell what was inside besides a large, gray lump. Uli ate without speaking, her eyes unfocused. I took a small taste of the paste and found it tasted a little like corn meal, so I took a larger bite.

"This is a strange place," I said to break up the silence. My voice echoed through the tunnels. Chimes tinkled in the distance. The sound must have been some sort of magic that came from the tree. Given that they sounded so familiar to me, I suspected the tree knew I was coming.

"The tunnels were not created by my people," she offered. "They have been here since the beginning of time."

"How did you know about these tunnels?"

"The tree—it called to me." She took another bite, her gaze still unfocused.

"How far are we?"

She shook her head. "Not far. Are you prepared, Deathbringer?"

_Again with the nickname. Ugh._

"As prepared as I can be under the circumstances. I have no idea what to expect."

"It is better that you don't."

I took a small bite, wondering if I should bring up the subject I knew would be touchy. But I knew she needed someone to talk to. Isolation is hard on the soul. "Uli, where is your family?"

"They live in the inner tree," she answered after a pause. "My father," she hesitated, "he is the king."

Ah, this made sense. I'd wondered how she was able to get an audience with His Majesty on such short notice. "You are the princess?"

"No." She hung her head. "Not anymore. Not after I refused the marriage. Not after I allowed the Wult man to rescue me."

"Wult man?"

"He rescued me at the risk of his own life."

Thousands of miles away, and still I had to be reminded of him. Heidel had once spoken of an Ulizet. I should have put two and two together sooner. "Kull," I said.

"Do you know him, Deathbringer?"

"I might have. A long time ago."

"Did he rescue you as well?"

"No. I wouldn't call it a rescue. Rescue is something you do for someone who's helpless."

"Do you think I am helpless?" Her wide eyes stared up at mine.

"I didn't mean it like that."

She replaced the lid on her jar without speaking.

_Way to go, Olive. Always tactful, as usual._

"I was proud like you before I found the tree. I wished for no one's help but my own. It is one reason I found the tree. But it is why the tree stole my mind, so that I would have to live forever alone, because no one wants me as I am now."

"Surely someone wants you, Uli."

"No," she said matter-of-factly. She stood and replaced the jar in her bag. I watched her move with quiet movements. Her wings rustled over damp roots. Would the tree make me become someone like her? Our meeting couldn't have been an accident. Was she some sort of envoy sent by the tree? If so, then she was also my warning. My living, breathing example of what I was soon to become. I almost considered turning around.

"The way is long," she said, her voice distant. "But we will not rest again. The tree demands your presence. Are you ready?"

I stood. "How could you know that the tree demands my presence?"

She tapped her head. "I hear it always."

"You speak to the tree?"

A wicked grin curved around her mouth, showing off her canine teeth. "It will speak to you as well. Soon." Her wings gave a tiny flutter. She stood alert, as if listening to something. In the distance, the wind chimes pealed, the way they had sounded the day I'd stood on my mother's front porch, waiting to go inside for the first time.

"Do you hear that?" I asked her.

She grabbed me up before I got an answer. I felt like a rag doll under her arms, but I couldn't complain. It would have taken days to walk through this place.

The brown earth blurred in my vision. Smells of damp, fertile ground filled my nose. Hours seemed like days down here. Uli flew until I thought her wings would fall off. How long had we been flying? Four hours? Five? I slept on and off, but when I woke to the same monotony, I closed my eyes once again.

Something woke me. Up ahead, a pinprick of light appeared. It was so tiny it seemed to bob in and out of appearance. I blinked, and it became brighter.

"Is that the tree?" I asked Uli.

She didn't answer as we rocketed forward. Wind brushed my cheeks. Fresh air replaced the rich scent of earth.

The tunnel widened. The light ahead illuminated walls covered in soft green moss. Water trickled, mingled with the sounds of the chimes. We entered an enormous cavern.

The light shone bright, but not enough to blind me. Its beams were the color of the moon, a soft blue that filled the cavern with warmth. Its rays shone from a tree made of bleached-white limbs.

"We have found it," she whispered.

She placed me on the ground, and my feet sank into a carpeting of moss. When I looked at the tree, my breath caught in my throat. The word _sacred_ came to mind. There was a reason only a few people had ever seen this tree. Something like this couldn't be shared with anyone.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, though it seemed a poor description for something so breathtaking.

"To take a piece of the pure magic for your own, you must communicate with the tree. Come." She took my hand and walked forward. With each step, my heart pounded. Silvery-white branches curved from a stout base, taller than I had expected. I felt small and powerless before it, yet somehow comforted at the same time.

Thoughts raced through my head. What would happen to me once I touched it? Would I know what to say? How could I avoid losing my mind, or better yet, my life?

"Do not worry," Uli said as if sensing my thoughts. "The Ever Root knows your soul. You have nothing to fear."

Knows my soul. Great. I wasn't a perfect person by any means. I'd done some pretty selfish stuff in my lifetime. But the closer I drew to the tree, I knew that none of it mattered.

We stopped underneath the branches, and its glowing light enveloped us, warming us. My doubts melted away as I stood in its presence.

"Whenever you feel ready," she spoke softly, "touch the tree."

With my doubts no longer nagging me, I reached out. The tree's bark felt warm under my fingers. The comforting feeling became so overwhelming tears leaked from my eyes.

_You are loved._

I heard the voice in my head, so loud someone could have shouted it, yet so calm I felt it deep in my soul.

A burst of white light glowed from the tree. Beside me, I watched Uli transform. Her dirty rags disappeared, replaced with a flowing white gown. Her tangled hair was replaced with long, silver strands. She looked ethereal, as beautiful as the tree. When she smiled, I felt calmness in her expression.

"You have found me," she said.

It took a moment to find my voice. "Who are you?"

"I speak for the tree. Whatever you desire, let it be known."

Asking for pure magic seemed so trite now, but I knew that my godson would die without it. "Pure magic," I spoke. "I must break through the goblin's wall."

Ulizet's eyes were like twin solar systems. I couldn't think of a better way to describe them. It was as though the mysteries of the universe—all the knowledge, all the secrets—were stored within those two eyes.

"You shall have what you desire. But know this, for every gift given, a price must be paid. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

I swallowed. For the first time since I'd seen the tree, I felt uneasy. "What is the price?"

"You are to see three visions—the most harrowing memory of your past, a happening of the present, and a vision of Faythander's future."

"That's all?"

She nodded.

This wasn't so bad. I thought I'd have to sacrifice my mind or something. I could deal with this. It seemed a little similar to what Scrooge went through, but luckily, I wasn't a penny-pinching hoarder who screwed over kids with disabilities. If I had to see something awful from my past, I knew I could handle it. The other two visions I worried about more. "Very well," I answered. "I agree to pay the price."

Ulizet didn't answer at first. She only stared at me with those twin universe eyes, as if looking into my thoughts and finding my worst one. "Do not answer so quickly. The price will not be as you expect."

Her words made me pause but weren't enough to make me reconsider. "I am prepared to pay."

"Very well. Hold out your hand."

I did as she asked. Ulizet held a small sachet that glowed the same color as the tree. The pure magic. As soon as the package touched my palm, the world disappeared.

"You have been warned." I heard Ulizet's voice as if she spoke from a million miles away.

# Chapter Thirty-Eight

My vision blurred. I no longer stood beneath the sacred tree. Instead, I stood in the Wult caves, the same caves I had crossed through to find the tombs. Strange, as I didn't remember any harrowing memories happening here. I stood on the edge of the underground lake.

The altar sat on the shore. I'd seen the apparition here. My stomach turned as I remembered it, though I wasn't sure why.

People stood around the altar. They wore dark robes with cowls that hid their faces.

Goblins were also in the room. They stalked around the altar with their knuckles dragging the ground. Red eyes glowed from hungry, lean faces.

Chanting came from the group gathered around the altar. It started softly at first, and then rose. It sounded like the beating of a drum. Each word pounded with harsh syllables. I didn't recognize the language, but with goose bumps prickling my skin, I knew it must have been a spell. A very bad one.

I concentrated on the sound of their voices, trying to recognize the words. As I listened, I heard a phrase repeated over and over. I used my magic to enhance my hearing, and that's when I understood it.

_We summon Theht._

Two thoughts struck me: This wasn't a memory. And I'd been tricked.

I tried to run but found I couldn't move. I wanted to scream, to do something—to do anything—but I was trapped. My soul had entered this place. I had no control over it.

_We summon Theht. We summon Theht._

A figure emerged from the corner of the room. She carried something, though in the dim light I couldn't tell what was inside the bundle.

She walked closer, but not close enough for me to see inside the wrapped cloth. Something stirred inside the bundle, an animal perhaps?

A silver strand of hair peeked from her cowl as she approached the altar. I watched as she unfolded the blanket. A newborn baby lay inside. With its slightly damp hair and protruding umbilical stump, the baby looked minutes old. The woman placed the baby on the altar and stepped away.

The infant didn't wake as the robed figures surrounded it.

My heart raced. I had to stop this.

_We call Theht. The blood of an innocent will be our price._

One of the robed figures raised a knife.

They were using the blood of an innocent to summon Theht. You didn't get much more innocent than a newborn. What kind of sick, depraved people were they?

I wanted to shout as the chanting grew louder and louder. The woman who had carried the baby joined in. I focused on her, and though I couldn't see her face, I got the impression that I knew her. Was she the Dreamthief? If so, what was her true identity? The elves had been involved from the beginning. It wouldn't be unreasonable to think that this could be the princess.

Their chanting resonated with an eerie echo. Tears leaked from my eyes with a phantom warmth that seeped over my bone-cold cheeks. I had to stop this. Surely there was something I could do.

_Ulizet_ , I called. _Please, hear me!_

But I was alone. I had been abandoned in my dreamstate to watch something so horrific I knew I would never be the same.

_We summon Theht. We summon Theht._

But where were all the other children? Where was Jeremiah? Had they already been sacrificed? Or would they be next? And why were we in the caves and not in the goblin tower?

My questions fled my mind as I watched the knife hover over the baby's chest.

"No!" I heard the words as if I'd spoken them myself. A woman rushed into the room. Her red hair looked mussed, her brown robes disheveled, though I still recognized her. My mother. "She is my daughter. You must stop this!"

Several robed men caught her as she rushed for the altar. "Stop, stop!" she screamed.

The man with the knife paid no attention. Silver blade glinting in the firelight, he thrust it for the newborn's—for my—chest.

An enormous whooshing came from the mouth of the cave. A behemoth of golden scales flew inside and snatched the baby away, cradling it gently in its massive claws. I watched him fly away, out over the Brimlake with me in his grasp.

"Thank you," my mother whispered before she collapsed.

The scene disappeared. A sharp light came into focus. I recognized the tree. I lay on the ground. Its broad branches swayed gently overhead. I heard the chimes once again, the chimes I'd heard that first day I'd gone to live with my mother.

"She had sworn to sacrifice you." Ulizet's voice came from somewhere. I focused and found her standing beside the tree's trunk. "Your mother first visited Faythander almost thirty years ago. She made a home with the elves. She fell in love. But she learned the truth of the goblins and pitied them. When she joined the resistance, she was five months pregnant."

I slowly sat up. My heart still raced. I pulled my knees to my chest, wishing I could forget the images playing over and over again in my memory.

"The goblins determined that the only way to defeat the elves was by summoning Theht. Your mother and her unborn child were part of their plan, but the goblins weren't the only faction interested in Theht's powers."

I tried to process her words. "The Gravidorum," I whispered.

"Yes. Their spies joined the goblins for a brief time in order to harness Theht's powers for their own. The goblins never knew of these spies. Before your mother gave birth, it was her intention to sacrifice you. But she underestimated the love a parent has for her child."

"She couldn't go through with it." I wished I would've just let the tears come out. Holding them in was so painful. "She'd wanted me dead, but she couldn't go through with it."

"Your father was one of the Gravidorum spies. He is responsible for summoning the sky king. He, like your mother, could not watch you die."

I crossed my arms, feeling a sudden chill. "Why didn't my parents tell me?"

Ulizet looked on with an emotionless expression. "Your mother's mind became unstable once she crossed back into Earth Kingdom, and your father knew the only way for you to be safe was to live under the constant guardianship of the sky king. Telling you the truth of your past would have harmed you." Ulizet's voice softened. "And he felt immeasurably guilty."

Something glinted near my feet, and I focused on the tiny sachet filled with pure magic. I picked it up with careful fingers and stuffed it in my pocket. "What's the second vision?" I tried to speak with resoluteness, but it came out as a weak whisper.

"Soon you will see," Ulizet said. "Soon." Once again, her voice seemed to come from a million miles away as I felt my dreamsoul being transported. I no longer sat under the tree. Its glowing warmth left me, replaced with a chill that burrowed deep inside my soul.

I stood in Mog's Keep—the goblin tower. Wispy figures flitted in and out of focus. That blinding, pulsing light I remembered was visible here. Sounds of whimpering came from somewhere. My head spun with dizziness as I tried to focus. The room tipped from one end to the other as if I stood on the deck of ship during a squall. The more I focused, the more the spinning room settled. The pulsing light, however, never stopped. Its intensity was like a mallet pounding inside my brain.

Choking coughs came from the opposite end of the room. I focused on the sound.

My godson lay on a pallet of white sheets. His eyes were rolled up into his head so that I saw only the whites of his eyes. Tubes came from his mouth, his nose. They ran the length of his body and were attached to metal prongs on the floor and walls, like some sort of twisted lightning rods. Other children lay beside him. They surrounded the edges of the circular room, all situated in the same way as my godson.

Once again, I found I couldn't move. My stomach turned at the sight of the imprisoned children. This was evil. Any person who participated in the torture of innocent children didn't deserve to be called human.

The wispy figures I'd seen earlier began to take a cohesive shape. My heart sped up. I'd seen them before. It seemed like light years ago when I had first seen the figure in the caves. There were at least a dozen of the figures flitting from one child to the next.

I watched one stop next to my godson. Gooseflesh prickled my skin as I watched a translucent, skeletal hand touch his forehead. Jeremiah grimaced at the creature's touch, though his body remained motionless. The fingers sank into my godson's forehead. The pulsating light grew brighter.

I looked up and saw a catwalk overhead. A huge strobe-type light sat at the top. As the creature's fingers dug deeper into my godson's forehead, the light increased in intensity.

The beacon was to call Theht.

A wail came from behind me, and I spun around. A little girl lay on the ground. Blood oozed from the tubes stuck down her throat and nose. She choked, though her body stayed unresponsive.

The robed figures moved in. As if one collective mind, they surrounded her, and each stuck a finger inside her head. Her whimpers turned to screams. Through the mass of hooded figures, I saw her eyes open. Blood replaced her tears. She screamed for another minute, though it felt as though she cried for hours before her eyes finally shut. Her rigid body grew limp.

A clammy sweat broke out across my skin.

I couldn't imagine a more torturous death. And soon, that's what would happen to my godson.

I had to get to Jeremiah. I had to get inside that tower.

The figures dispersed.

On the few occasions I'd seen these beings, I'd been baffled as to who or what they were. There weren't any species in Faythander that fit their description.

Ulizet's voice filled my head. _They are from the world yet undiscovered. Come, you will see what lies ahead._

I didn't want to leave. I wanted to rush to Jeremiah and pull those awful tubes out of his head, but the scene shifted. Instead of standing inside a tower, I stood on a plain of barren rocks. I'd been here before—when I'd spellcasted the dream catcher.

Yet, this time, the vision seemed more real. A bitter taste of iron coated my tongue. A stiff breeze gusted past, chilling my exposed face and arms.

The vision I'd seen before replayed.

A woman stood on a mound at the center of the battlefield. Corpses were piled beneath her feet. Again, I was stricken by her unnatural beauty and her otherworldly presence. Her dark hair fell in a shimmery wave over her shoulders. Her armor looked pliable, yet impenetrable. Her eyes made me shudder. Three pupils fanned out from the center of her irises. She didn't smile, she didn't move, yet again, I got the impression that she was responsible for the deaths of thousands—millions, perhaps.

_Theht_ , Ulizet whispered.

My mind reeled. How could this be Theht? Wasn't he supposed to be male? But that concern was nothing compared with the horror I beheld. This was clearly a vision of the future.

The closer I scrutinized the scene, the more faces I recognized. My father's eye peered from the tangle of bodies. I saw Kull, half his face ripped apart, part of his skull peeking through, buried beneath the bodies.

Under Theht's feet, I saw myself. My scalp had been ripped away. Pieces of brain matter leaked from gashes in my cranium. My mouth slacked open in a soundless scream.

That's when the smell hit me.

Nausea churned through my stomach. I wanted to gag. _Stop,_ I pleaded with Ulizet. _Please, make it stop._

When the scene finally shifted, the tree swayed overhead, though it did nothing to calm my heaving stomach. I rolled onto my side and vomited onto the spongy ground. When I finished, I crawled away, wishing I could erase the scene from my memory. I knew I never would. A picture like that is one you never forget.

"Theht," I whispered. "She killed them."

"Yes," came Ulizet's voice.

The stirring branches filled the silence. Somewhere far in the distance echoed the sound of chimes. I closed my eyes, but still the images played over and over. I saw my mother. I saw my godson. I saw myself.

"Are you certain this is the future?" I asked.

"The events are already in motion. Theht will destroy your world. She will destroy all who inhabit it."

I wanted to vomit again but found my stomach empty. I rose onto my hands and knees. Ulizet stared at me with an expressionless face.

"When?" I asked her.

"I cannot say, but the events of her return are already set in motion."

"What if I stop it? What if I rescue the children first?"

She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. "Stopping her summoning will delay what is to happen."

"That's better than nothing," I sighed. I rose, feeling the spongy ground cushion my feet. A cold sweat slicked my skin as if I'd awoken from a nightmare. I tapped my pocket and felt the pure magic tucked inside. Hopelessness tried to overwhelm me, but one thought drove me forward. I had to rescue those kids.

"Can you transport me to Mog's Keep?"

Ulizet's voice remained even. "To do so would require another payment. I will not risk your life, Deathbringer."

"I'll pay. Whatever the price, I'll pay it."

"I cannot."

"Not even to save those children?"

"I cannot," she repeated.

I wanted to collapse. I wanted to curl up on the ground and sleep for three weeks. What good could I do now? The pixie kingdom lay on the opposite side of the world from the goblin lands. It might as well be on Mars. It would take days of constant travel just to reach it by the end of the week.

Judging by the vision I'd had in the tower, I estimated I had hours.

"Please," I pleaded with Ulizet. "Isn't there some way?"

"I dare not help you."

"But those kids will die. My godson will die!"

She didn't answer.

"You know how important this is. You've seen the vision. You know the consequences."

"Preserving your life is of greater importance."

I was getting nowhere. Time for a new approach. "All right, you can't help me. I get it. I'll find another way. Is there some way you could point me in the right direction?"

She didn't say no immediately, which I took as a good sign. "You have the ability within you."

"I do?"

She nodded.

This was news to me. "How do I find it?"

"Look within yourself. In your memory, you hold the key to defying the barriers of space."

Her words reminded me of something. Peerling's text. What had it said exactly? I closed my eyes, recalling the words. It was easier for me to do than one might expect. My power lay within words. I took them seriously. The text came to me as if from a dream.

_The possibilities of where your imagination might take you are limitless. There is no wall or barrier your own thoughts cannot penetrate._

When I'd first read the passage, I'd assumed he'd meant that the imagination could help you view worlds and places you'd never been, but strictly within the boundaries of one's own mind. Yet, did he hint at something else? Was it possible to use the power of the imagination to actually transport your physical body? If so, then how?

I pulled my mother's ring from my pocket. In the silvery light of the tree, the diamond looked ethereal. I held the ring in my palm. I'd already discovered its magical word. _Enter._ I'd used it to kill a beast. But could I use it for another spell?

When I glanced up, Ulizet no longer looked at me, but stared at something overhead. Her normally untroubled expression turned grim.

The ground shook, causing the tree's limbs to tremble. "It is time," Ulizet whispered. "You must leave this place."

"What about you?"

A small smile creased her mouth. "I will never be hard to find."

The ring grew warm in my palm as the shaking increased. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I suspected it had nothing to do with me being here and everything to do with what was happening in Mog's Keep.

"Know this—there is no way for your physical body to pass through the wall. You must use the pure magic to destroy the wall first. Only then will you be able to free your godson. Use great caution, Deathbringer. This path you choose is one of immense danger."

I nodded. The ground shook so violently I thought I might be thrown off my feet.

I balled my hand into a fist, pressing the ring into my flesh. I exhaled and then called my magic. It swelled within me as I concentrated on the word. In my mind's eye, I pictured the wall surrounding Mog's Keep.

"Enter," I whispered. The ground disappeared beneath my feet. My stomach flew into my throat. I kept my eyes closed, certain that if I opened them, I would lose all sense of reality.

_Focus_ , I told myself.

The freefall continued until I was certain I had made a horrible mistake. Was this supposed to happen? I clenched the ring in my fist. I conjured the picture of the wall once again, imagining every detail.

The picture came more vividly than I expected. The air turned cold. I tasted ice on my tongue.

The freefall stopped.

I opened my eyes.

Before me rose Mog's Keep.

# Chapter Thirty-Nine

I stood at the foot of the elven wall. The single tower of Mog's Keep rose beyond it. Magical sparks shot through the barrier's mirrored surface. The raw power emanating from the wall caught me by surprise. My stomach knotted. I'd never felt such a strong enchantment in one place. I stumbled back into a snow bank as the magic took my breath away. The freezing air bit at my exposed fingers. I crossed my arms over my chest as I paced the length of the barrier.

The snow muffled my footsteps as I inspected the tower. It was taller than I'd realized and seemed to pierce the sky with its razor-edged turrets. The light I'd seen before pulsed with a blinding brightness from the tower's topmost window. Something moved behind me, and I rounded.

The strange fog I'd encountered in the Wult tombs covered the landscape. My breath came out in puffs of white clouds and mingled with the fog. I listened for sounds of life, but the fog muffled any noises I might have heard.

"Olive," said a deep voice that came from the mist. I shuddered as the voice echoed against the tower's wall, a long, drawn-out sound that made my hair stand on end. I'd heard that voice before.

"Who are you?" I called.

The mist swirled, gray and white, brushing my face with its damp fingers. My heart rate spiked. Something moved in the fog. I couldn't be sure what it was, but as I looked closer, I realized that hundreds, perhaps thousands of forms moved inside the cloudy barrier.

I took several steps back until I collided with the enchanted wall.

"What do you want from me?" I called. The mist muffled my voice.

Sinewy forms crowded inside the fog. They stood with hunched backs, their spines protruding from their meatless frames. Gray, almost-transparent skin covered their bodies. Hungry eyes leered at me, making me shudder.

I balled my hands into fists. The goblin army waited for me. But what did they want?

A man walked out of the crowd. With his neatly groomed beard and pockmarked face, I recognized him as the man I'd seen in my dreamstate not long ago.

"Mr. Green?" I asked.

He clutched his cane and then stooped into a courteous bow. A stiff breeze whipped his cloak around his stocky frame. "You've found me at last, though I had hoped to meet you in the human realm. The circumstances there would have been much more civilized."

I took a step away from him. The flickering light came from the tower, though it was less of a flicker and more of a pulse. "Is this your army?" I asked him.

"Of course. What good is a king if he does not have an army?"

My stomach sank. "You're a king?"

"Yes. I am the king of goblins. But only for now. Soon, I hope to exchange the name with something a little more awe inspiring. As soon as I capture Theht's power for my own, I shall acquire a new title. God sounds more appropriate, don't you think?"

I brushed my fingers against my pocket, where I felt the pure magic still tucked inside. "You tricked me. You wanted me to find the pure magic so your army could break through to summon Theht."

"It was never a trick, child. I had honestly hoped you'd find me in Earth Kingdom. It would have been much less complicated. As I've mentioned before, your godson means something to me."

"Yes, you've mentioned it. So besides being a goblin king with a god complex, who else are you?"

His eyes narrowed. "Look in your pocket."

"I'll never give you the pure magic."

He laughed. "I wasn't referring to it."

Confused, I reached into my jeans' pocket. I searched through three pockets before I felt it. Stiff cardboard bent under my fingers. I pulled out a business card.

"You were so very close. You had but to read the card and you would have found me. I suppose I can only expect so much from a half-human hybrid."

I shot him a dark look as I read the card. Houston Area Christian Charities for Foster Children. Phone numbers. Addresses. Several different quotes on how they were preferred by most children in the area. Honestly, who put so much clutter on one card? No wonder I hadn't found whatever it was he'd wanted me to find.

At the bottom ran a long list of names. I scanned them and stopped on one.

_Nigel P. Green, Director._

I read it again. And then again. _How had I missed this?_

I looked up. "You're the foster home director?"

"One and the same."

"Then it was you who stole my godson's dreamsoul. And all the other children as well. It was the perfect arrangement. You found kids who were emotionally compromised, who had vivid imaginations, and you put them under your spell. You could work in either world and pick them however you chose, wearing whatever form you wanted." My words sounded calm. Inside I felt sickened.

"You are correct, though I did not act alone." He pointed to a figure hiding in the mist. It walked forward. The dark cowl hid parts of its skeletal face, but I knew who it was—or rather—who she was.

The Dreamthief.

She wore the form of Charon, though I was fairly certain I knew who hid under that disguise. I'd seen her in my vision—the woman who'd carried me to be sacrificed as a baby—the woman I believed to be the elven princess.

The card crumpled in my clenched fist. "You did this? My godson? The other children? You sacrificed their lives for what? To summon a god who could destroy both our planets?" I couldn't contain my anger much longer.

"You are incorrect on both assumptions. Theht will not destroy our world but recreate it. The goblins will be free once again. It was never my intention to harm the children. They would have been quite safe in their dreamstate had I not unintentionally opened a portal to an alternate realm. Those beings, the Regaymor, were never part of my plan. They are the ones who transported your godson's dreamsoul into that tower. They are the ones who are killing those children. They took over what I started. Something intended to be wonderful has turned into a disaster. That is why I am pleading with you to help me. You are our last hope in saving those children. Use the pure magic. Break down the wall. Only then will your godson be free."

I wasn't buying the innocent act. "Let me get this straight. You posed as a human, became a foster home director, and then captured children's minds in order to summon Theht. But then by accident you unleashed the Regaymor. And now you want _me_ to fix it?"

"You are correct for the most part, though should you fail to rescue the children soon, the Regaymor will succeed in summoning Theht. Her power will become theirs. I cannot imagine the extremity of the consequences."

An image of a battlefield littered with bodies came to mind. "I can."

"Then you must act quickly." He'd attempted an even tone, but I heard the desperation in his voice.

If Mr. Green thought it was okay to capture children's dreamsouls, I couldn't trust him. He was depraved on all kinds of levels. But if I didn't storm Mog's Keep soon, our entire planet would be destroyed. No pressure.

"I'll break that wall down under one condition," I told him. "Leave the children alone. Never mess with their dreams again. I don't know what kind of world you live in, but in mine, messing with kids' heads is wrong on all sorts of levels. If you do, I will come after you. And you will regret it."

Wind gusted around us as I waited for his answer. "I give you my word."

My warning had not been an idle threat. I would use every ounce of my power to bring him down if he ever looked at a child again.

I turned to the wall. It rose before me like an ancient pyramid. I felt the magic coursing inside, fueling a spell so complicated I knew I would never break through without the pure magic.

I removed the sachet from my pocket. Delicate fabric tied with a white string sat on my palm. As I untied the knot, I felt as though I were disturbing something sacred. The fabric fell away to reveal a lump of white sand.

It didn't blow away in the wind as I would have imagined. Instead, it rested on my hand. And waited. I stared up at the wall.

Luckily for me, I've had experience breaking down barriers.

The goblin army stirred behind me. I wondered if they would wait for me to rescue my godson before storming the tower. I ignored them as best as I could as I focused on the wall. Shimmery white threads of magic spiraled through the reflective surface, leaving ripples in their wake like waves on a pond. I focused on the magic pulses, and then I poured my energy into the pure magic.

_Enter._

A few grains of sand floated off my palm and drifted to the wall. As soon as they touched the surface, a deafening boom filled the air. The ripples vibrated as if I'd hit the wall with a sledgehammer, though the wall remained standing.

My heart rate quickened. I had to bring this wall down. I attempted the spell again.

_Enter._

A flurry of sand whipped into the air, taking with it all the pure magic. I feared the wind would blow it away, but the sand flowed with its own current. It struck the wall.

The sound of a crumbling mountain came from the wall. A fracture cracked its mirrored surface, and then a dozen more.

The clamor deafened me. My knees hit the ground. I clapped my hands over my ears. The goblin army backed away as fragments of stone fell to the ground. Huge chunks of the wall rained down around us. They hit the snow with massive thumps, sending flurries of snowflakes into the air.

A bluish haze rose from the crumbling barricade. It swirled as if with a conscious mind. I ducked as a rock fell inches from my head. The mist flowed into the sky. I watched it disappear behind the low-lying clouds.

Mr. Green fell back. He glanced at me. "I will keep the army away until you've rescued your godson."

"You will?" I asked him, surprised.

"Of course. Although I'm sure you believe otherwise, I am not a bad person." His smile caught me off guard. "Please do rescue him," he added, looking with apprehension at the tower. "Soon."

I nodded and then rushed toward a gap in the wall, praying it didn't topple on top of me. Pebble-strewn snow crunched under my feet. The tower's light pulsed briefly and then shone with full force once again. How long did I have?

I rushed past the massive heaps of stone. The thought struck that I might have made a huge mistake. With the tower no longer protected, the goblins now had the ability to summon Theht. I pushed the doubts from my head and instead ran for the Keep.

I paused as I spotted a doorway at the bottom of the tower. Mog's Keep loomed over me. The iron-gray turret shot into the sky. Like a lighthouse, the beam of light shone from the tower's highest point, piercing through clouds above.

I dashed through the open doorway and peered up at a spiraling set of stairs.

Pain no longer meant anything to me as I climbed. I focused on one thing.

Save Jeremiah.

I climbed until my lungs begged for air, and still I climbed. When I reached the topmost part of the tower, I stopped. A door blocked my path. I grabbed the handle. Cold metal chilled my fingertips as I pushed it open.

The scene I'd witnessed once before came crashing back like a nightmare brought to life, though experiencing it in person was more terrifying.

The Regaymor flitted from child to child. They didn't stop as I entered. I'd expected a fight, but they seemed oblivious to me. Black tatty cloth hung from bony frames. I watched in horror as their half-translucent, skeletal fingers dug into the children's brains.

With my heart pounding, I searched for Jeremiah. I scanned the room twice before finding him.

He lay opposite the door, piled in the corner like a discarded corpse. I rushed to him. The creatures ignored me as I sprinted through their tower. My heart pounded as I knelt by Jeremiah.

His face was so pale I feared he was dead. I touched his cheek. His clammy skin felt unnaturally cool under my fingertips.

"Please don't let me be too late," I whispered as I felt for his pulse. It took me three minutes, but I found it. His form flickered, similar to the light streaming overhead, and I reminded myself that I'd found his dreamsoul, not his physical body.

I turned to the tubes coming from his head and yanked them free. As soon as I did, he sat up. His eyes looked dull and almost devoid of life.

He focused on me. "O—Olive?" His voice sounded hoarse, yet it was him.

I hugged him. I was certain I'd never felt happier in my life. Tears streamed down my face. I didn't care. I let them come. I hugged him so tightly I thought I would never let go.

Jeremiah cried, too. His was a soft sob, though it was a sound of joy. I remembered he asked me once why grown-ups cried when they were happy. I guess now he knew.

"You came for me. I knew you would," he said. He pushed away. His eyes began to shine with that familiar brightness I remembered. His smile had always been contagious. It was no different now.

I brushed away my tears and smiled with him. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"You'll make it up to me."

"Don't I always?"

"Bowling?"

We'd had this conversation dozens of times before. "Yes, and donuts."

"Both?"

"Trust me. You deserve it. You've got to be the bravest boy I've ever met."

He looked behind me. His smile faded. I turned.

The Regaymor no longer flitted around the room as I expected. Instead, I found them on the catwalk overhead. They surrounded the light. It no longer pulsed or flickered but shone with an intensity that made me shield my eyes.

"They're summoning Theht," Jeremiah said, his voice haunted.

I turned to him. "What can we do stop them?"

"Take the others away. I'll help you."

He stood on wobbly legs, but it didn't take him long to regain his strength. We dashed around the room and freed the other children. I unhooked tubes with shaking hands, fearing that at any moment the Regaymor would swoop off their perch and attack. They never did. I feared I knew why.

I was too late.

As I unhooked the last tube, Jeremiah stumbled toward me.

"It's time for me to go."

I eyed him. "Go where?"

"I'm going back home. You removed the Regaymor's enchantment. They have no power over me anymore. I'm sorry, Olive, but I can't stay here. It's time for me to return to my body."

"I understand."

He smiled. "Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

"Yes, I hope so." I prayed he was right.

"It's getting all fuzzy again..." His voice drifted. As it did, his form faded. He didn't react with fear. He inhaled a long, deep breath. "Thank you for freeing me," he whispered.

The other children crawled from their pallets on the floor. They looked at me with wide, fearful eyes. I realized that they were looking for some sort of reassurance.

"You're going home," I told them, hoping they had the ability to return the same way as Jeremiah.

One by one, their images faded. Their careworn smiles filled me with hope. I'd won this battle. Now I had to win another.

Bone-chilling wails came from overhead. Lightning crackled around the tower's ceiling. Wind funneled through the room as electricity crackled around the Regaymor.

Somehow, I had to stop this.

I spotted a ladder leading up to the catwalk. As I raced to it, the wind rushed through my ears. Lightning bursts came at regular intervals. As I reached the ladder, Mr. Green walked into the room. The Dreamthief and several goblins followed him.

"What are you doing?" he called over the clamor.

"I have to stop them!" I called as I climbed.

"It's too late!"

The Dreamthief pulled a basita gun from its cloak. It flicked the trigger so fast I barely registered watching the gears move. Pain exploded in my chest.

I fell back. My head slammed the ground.

Gasping for air, I lay immobilized.

Mr. Green and the Dreamthief stood over me. "As I said, you should have found me sooner!"

"You... monster." A host of other descriptors came to mind, but I couldn't think past the pain.

"I allowed you to save your godson, but I can't allow you to stop the summoning."

The Dreamthief floated off the ground, past the ladder, and to the top of the catwalk.

I rolled onto my side. Sharp stabs of pain throbbed through my body, threatening to overwhelm me.

_At least the children are safe._

I focused on the Dreamthief as it stood on the catwalk. A slim case formed in its hands. It opened the lid to reveal a mirror. Gray fog clouded the silver glass. Sparks of blue electricity crackled through the mirror's surface. I caught a glimpse of the image forming in the mirror—a dark, mist-shrouded moor with wind-battered trees. The image disappeared as a burst of raw magic poured from the glass.

The Regaymor screamed loud enough to overpower the windstorm. I couldn't suppress a shudder at the sound of their unnatural wails. The mirror became a vacuum. Gray mist that looked too heavy to be a fog encircled the creatures and pulled them inside the mirror, one by one, until they disappeared.

The Dreamthief snapped the lid closed. The screams stopped.

Although the creatures were gone, the tower's light remained constant.

"What are you doing?" I asked Mr. Green as the Dreamthief knelt beside the light. Goblins poured in around us. They climbed the ladder and stood with hunched backs beside the Dreamthief.

I caught glimpses of their lean, skeletal faces, their ruby eyes glowing with calculated intelligence.

"We're doing what should have happened twenty-four years ago. Your death will make an honorable sacrifice that Theht dare not refuse."

My stomach knotted.

Chanting came from the woman and the goblins. I'd heard those words before.

_We summon Theht._

Mr. Green grabbed me under the arms. Several goblins snatched up my feet.

_We summon Theht._

"Leave me alone." My words came out as a weak request. The pain made my vision blur.

_We summon Theht._

I wanted to lash out and summon a spell that would destroy them all, but the basita had made my nerves unresponsive. I was doing good to keep my eyes open.

The goblins' nails scraped my arms as they carried me up the ladder. Their harsh, rattling breaths sounded loud in my ears.

The light grew brighter the higher we climbed. When we finally stepped off the ladder, I got a better view of the catwalk area.

The light came from a wide, round altar. Runes, similar to the ones I'd seen in the Wult caves, were carved into its surface, and the light was emanating from them. They glowed as if on fire, a piercing light so bright I wanted to shield my eyes.

The goblins placed me on the table.

The runes scorched my back. Pain seared from my brain through my arms and legs, into my joints and nerve endings, as if I burned from the inside. I screamed. The agony took over my thoughts. Tears leaked from my eyes.

"Stop." I managed a hoarse groan.

Mr. Green held up a knife. The smooth, mirror-like blade reflected in the altar's light. A cold sweat broke out across my body. _If only I could move!_

_We summon Theht._

I concentrated on breathing. I couldn't move, that was true, but that didn't mean I couldn't use magic.

The knife lowered.

"Cirrus," I whispered. The gust of air took him off guard. He flew back and hit the wall. The others fell back as well, landing in heaps on the floor. My joints screamed with pain as I moved an inch. It wasn't much, and I was still on the table, but at least I could move again.

I crawled off the table and landed on the floor. My legs tingled as if they'd been electrocuted, but I managed to stand.

I focused on the blade. It lay on the ground a few feet away. I moved forward. Each step felt torturous, but I blocked it out.

Mr. Green stirred. His face, once human, transformed. I stared at a goblin in man's clothes. He crawled into a crouch.

I lunged for the knife and grabbed it up, but another form swooped in. The Dreamthief. It stood between me and Mr. Green.

"Fool," it hissed.

Its voice didn't sound as I expected. The Dreamthief transformed, and the missing puzzle piece fell into place.

I no longer looked at the Dreamthief, but at Mrs. Dickinson. She looked older than when I'd seen her last. Gray hair hung in limp strands over her face. Her robes rustled around her as if caught in a billowing wind. She stayed in her true form for only a moment. Soon, her face morphed, her blue robes changed black, and once again, I faced the Dreamthief.

Mr. Green, in his human form, stood beside her.

"You underestimate everyone you come in contact with," he said. "She was there from the beginning, watching you, waiting to take your dreamsoul. And now, she will finally have it."

I couldn't answer. Shock overrode my rational thoughts. How could Mrs. Dickinson be the Dreamthief? She was Jeremiah's foster mom for goodness' sake.

"She wasn't alone. There were others, of course. Your own companions were traitors from the beginning. No one cares for you, Olive. Believe what you will, but in truth, you are alone. Your attacks on the light-rails, at the Wult tombs, in the pixie kingdom—they were not random."

My thoughts started to congeal once again. Mr. Green took a step toward me. I clenched the knife. If only he knew how ready I was to slit his throat. I hoped he saw the madness in my eyes.

"The Caxon are everywhere. Infiltrating every nation in Faythander."

He took another step forward. I didn't want to listen to him, but somehow, I couldn't do anything to stop him.

"They were alerted to your presence before you arrived. Instructed to become friends. Find your weaknesses. Attack when the time is right. We are not the only ones to betray you."

I finally found my voice. "Then they failed. I am still alive."

His laugh grated in my ears.

"They were not instructed to kill you. We needed you to find the pure magic. Discourage you. Make you suffer. Make you feel weak."

The Dreamthief glided forward an inch. "Make you afraid," it whispered.

The knife wobbled in my hands. I heard the goblins' shuffling footsteps behind me.

_Make you suffer. Make you feel weak. Make you afraid._ This was their game. This was how they wanted to play. I wasn't a person to them.

The Dreamthief hovered so close I saw the twin pinpricks of light glowing from its eye sockets. I couldn't look away. Magic coursed from the specter, so strong I lost all sense of reality. It snuffed my magic out. Without it, I felt exposed. My only weapon, the knife, fell out of my hand. It landed on the floor with a sharp thump. Say what you will about fear, but when you truly experienced it, it consumed you. Your thoughts, your motivations, your intentions, all disappeared.

The goblins grabbed me up as Mr. Green spoke. "Now, shall we stop playing at this game? The sacrifice of your blood is needed for our spell."

The Dreamthief moved toward me. I heard its words whisper in my head. _Theht will return when the beating of your heart is stopped. You will bring death to our planet, and it will be glorious. You are the Deathbringer._

Calmness washed over me as they placed me on the altar once again. I shut my eyes. The Dreamthief's words were meant to make me afraid, but I refused to let them.

It was then that I realized the Dreamthief's power, something I'd known all along but only now understood. Fear. They used fear to paralyze me, make me helpless. They needed no spells or magic as long as I was afraid.

But I controlled my fear. Not them.

The chanting started once again. They stood around me, swaying back and forth. I ignored them as best as I could, instead focusing on one thing. With my magic gone, I knew I had no chance of fighting.

_Ulizet_ , I whispered. _Can you hear me?_

The chanting grew into a wail. The knife appeared. This time, Mr. Green didn't hesitate to plunge it into my chest.

I screamed as the sharp metal pierced through my skin. A huge vortex of wind funneled around us, drowning out my cries. The pain stole my breath.

My blood seeped around the blade. Dark crimson drops plopped onto the stone.

_Help, please! Ulizet? Fan'twar? Anyone?_

Mr. Green removed the knife with a violent jerk of his wrist. My blood came out in a gush. My head grew dizzy as I watched my lifeblood seep onto the table. I gasped, feeling my lungs collapse as my heart stopped pumping blood.

_Anyone?_

My eyes closed. Consciousness ebbed. I stood in the dragon's forest. I was a little girl again. I sat by a campfire and rested on Fan'twar's flanks. He told me stories that made me laugh.

An enormous clatter came from overhead. I remembered where I was. Was Theht coming? If so, I didn't know why she spoke with a man's voice, a deep, husky voice that sounded enraged.

The yells of a whole squadron of bloodthirsty warriors mingled with the man's voice. I knew of only one group of people capable of such violence. I cracked my eyes open just long enough to confirm my suspicions.

The Wults attacked the goblins without remorse. A blue glow surrounded each warrior, and even in my weakened state I felt the power of Princess Euralysia's spell.

Screams came from the goblins. Mr. Green's cries joined them. I heard bodies ripping apart. Skulls slamming together. Skulls splitting.

My thoughts caught me once again. _"And the prince found the den of naughty goblins. As punishment, he made them scrub his chamber pots clean. And he demanded that they only use pieces of paper parchment, which fell apart and made a horrid mess," Fan'twar said. I laughed with the firelight warming my face._

Someone interrupted my dream and grabbed me up. Warm arms encircled me. The sound of crashing rocks filled my ears. Was the tower collapsing?

All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. It felt so lovely by that fire.

Cold wind slapped my face, waking me. I cracked open my eyes. I saw a room full of Wult warriors. Dead goblin bodies surrounded them. Mrs. Dickinson's corpse lay atop the goblin's disemboweled carcasses. Her gold cross, her only jewelry, lost its luster. _A memory charm._

Blood stained the floor. It splattered the walls.

The goblin wearing Mr. Green's clothing looked the worst.

My stomach heaved.

Kull's face filled my vision. He placed me atop something that felt strangely like bones. I focused and found I sat atop the T-Rex skeleton. Princess Euralysia sat behind me. Her magic surrounded the skeleton and enveloped me in its warm glow. She raised her arms, and the skeleton lifted into the air as soon as Kull bounded onto it behind me.

We flew out of the ruined tower. I wanted to tell them I was hurt, but my thoughts drifted.

Once again, the fire warmed my face.

# Chapter Forty

Fan'twar's voice came to me, but not from my dream. I opened my eyes. I lay in the dragon caves. Sunlight streamed through the huge, cathedral windows and fell in patches over the rug-strewn stone floors. Kull sat by me also, with his chin resting in his hands.

I felt the strange sensation of dragon magic tingling where my stab wound had been. I glanced at my chest and saw that I wore a white nightshirt. Beneath it, my stab wound had been dressed in white cloth. I gingerly touched the fabric covering the gash. The greenish glow of dragon magic hummed beneath my fingertips. Only a dull ache remained where the wound had been.

"You healed me?" I asked Fan'twar as he loomed over me.

"Yes," he answered.

I sat up, trying to piece together the past several hours, but the images were blurred. At least I was pretty sure I had rescued Jeremiah.

"My godson?" I asked.

"He is safe," Fan'twar answered. "As is his sister. They have found a new babysitter. Dragons are quite fond of tending humans, as you have found out." I stared past Fan'twar to see Jeremiah. He stood with his silly grin, hands behind his back.

I wanted to hug him tightly but only managed a small embrace. Jeremiah handed me a bouquet of red fairy mushrooms. Tiny fairies peeked from the windows.

"They're beautiful."

"I think if you keep them in water, the fairies won't fly away."

"That's right."

His face grew serious. "Olive, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever had a bad dream? Like something really bad? But you couldn't remember what it was about?"

My heart missed a beat. "Sometimes that happens."

"Has it happened to you?"

I wasn't sure how to answer. "Yes, a few times. But the best thing to do is try to fill your mind with happy things, and then pretty soon you won't even remember the scary stuff."

"What kind of happy things?"

"Well—"

"Like toys and playing and that kind of stuff?"

"Yes, like that."

"All right. Then maybe I should go play? The dragons are teaching me how to catch nobbinflies."

"I think that would be a great idea. You're a very smart boy, Jeremiah. And a very brave one, too."

He gave me another smile. "You think so?"

"Yes. I know so."

He hugged me. His skin felt warm and soft, the way I remembered him. "I love you, Olive," he said softly.

"I love you, too."

He turned and skipped out of the room without another word.

Fan'twar watched him go. As soon as Jeremiah disappeared, I turned to my stepfather.

"You erased his memories, didn't you?" I asked.

"I thought it would be best. Although I've taken his memories, I cannot erase the emotions he felt while in the dreamstate. It is fortunate that he has you as his guardian."

"I'll watch over him. When his suppressed memories start to bother him, I'll be ready."

Although I felt glad that the sky king had removed Jeremiah's memories, I knew the boy still had a long road ahead of him.

Sissy entered the room and walked to me with guarded footsteps. She looked different. Maybe it was the defiance that was missing.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi, Sissy."

When she got to me, she exhaled, as if she had a lot on her chest that she wanted to get off. "I wanted to tell you..." she started, "about Mrs. Dickinson. I tried."

"You knew who she was?"

She nodded, her eyes pressed closed. Tears leaked from the corners. "I didn't know what to say. I knew everybody would think I was crazy."

"You can tell me now."

She nodded. "I found her in my brother's bedroom a while back. She'd done something to him. He looked different, like all the life had burned out of his eyes. Then he started acting different. He wouldn't play anymore, wouldn't talk to anyone. I knew something weird was going on."

"What did you do about it?"

"I tried to tell people, but nobody listened. That's when I found my foster mom using a mirror. She'd disappear and then come back. It scared me. I didn't know what to think, what to do." She sniffled.

I grabbed her hand. "You can keep going."

"Jer kept getting worse, so I thought I'd find out what my foster mom was doing. I went to her mirror. Next thing I know, I'm holding that dream catcher. I must've come here, but I don't remember anything."

"What did you do with the dream catcher?"

Her chest rose and fell. "What I told you about those LEGOs, it wasn't the whole story. I was mad at him, and I wanted to get back at him. I didn't know what that dream catcher did. Honest. I was only trying to scare him. I left it on his pillow for him to find, but when he touched it, that's when he passed out." Her grip tightened. Her body shuddered with sobs, and I pulled her close.

"It's okay," I whispered.

"It was my fault."

"It was never your fault, Sissy. Your foster mom was an evil person. She used her magic to taint something that had been intended for nobler purposes. It was her intention for you to give him the dream catcher. You can't blame yourself."

Her sobs continued. Kull looked on. He gave me a weak smile, as if to say, _it's okay_. After her crying quieted, Sissy pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You don't have to be."

"But I am. I'm sorry for what I put you through. I'm taking Jer back home. Dr. Hill is helping us find a new family. I'm not gonna run anymore. I can't. I have to be strong." She swallowed. "For Jer."

I patted her hand.

She glanced at Fan'twar and then back to me. He gave a slight nod, hinting at some unspoken communication between the two of them.

"Can I tell you something else?" she asked me.

"Go ahead."

"My mom told me something before she died. She said she was sending a guardian angel to watch over us. Every night after she died, I looked out my window, wondering why my guardian angel wasn't flying down from Heaven to watch over me. But now I know that my guardian angel didn't have wings. Now I know who she was talking about. Thank you, Olive. I don't think I ever mentioned it before."

Her gratitude had me at a loss for words. I'd always worried she'd turn out like her mom, but now, I didn't have to worry about her. She was growing into a beautiful young woman, someone who could inspire the world for good if she put her mind to it.

"I gotta get back to Jer." She gave me a quick hug. "Thank you again," she whispered and then left the room.

Kull cleared his throat. I glanced at him. I had the uncomfortable problem of thanking him for saving my life. I wasn't sure how to say it. Words didn't seem like enough. I turned to Fan'twar instead.

"You have done great good for many people," he said.

"Thanks." I wasn't sure what else to say.

"Your godson's sister owes a great debt to you."

"I'm not sure what I did. I thought she hated me."

"You allowed her to make mistakes, to understand her consequences. It is what any good parent would have done."

A good parent. Great. I'd always thought I'd make a lousy parent. I didn't want to ponder it, so I changed the subject. "Were you able to help the other dragons?" I asked him.

My stepfather's face grew grim. "I never made it to the outer islands."

"Why not?"

"I was stopped by the Regaymor. The goblins were not the only species interested in Theht's return. The Regaymor were attempting to infiltrate our planet. I stopped them before they were able to obtain the island's magic, though I fear it will not be long before they find a way to return."

"Who are they, exactly?"

"They are beings from another reality. I was not able to learn any more than that."

"Did you kill them?"

"I sent them away. They are not capable of death as we are familiar with it." The image of the Dreamthief's mirror popped into my mind. I'd seen a place with twisted trees and a dark moor. Could that be where they were from? If so, where was it? There were still many places in Faythander yet to be discovered. Still, I wondered why my stepfather didn't know much more about them.

I glanced at Kull again. He seemed cryptically quiet. I decided it was time for a change in subject.

"You came roaring to my rescue on the back of an enchanted T-Rex, even after I asked you not to help me."

"To the contrary, you asked me not to help where the pixies were concerned. And so I didn't. However, I refused to stay away from you after that. I could think of no better way to rescue you than on the back of an enchanted ancient dragon. It had quite the dramatic effect, don't you think?"

I stifled a laugh. Same old Kull. Despite his cockiness, his voice took me off guard. Listening to him was like watching flowers grow after a long, brutal winter. I decided not to mention it to him. Warrior voices aren't supposed to remind people of flowers.

"How did you manage to steal the T-Rex?" I asked.

"Euralysia owed me a favor."

I raised an eyebrow. "A favor?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I may have learned something about her that she'd rather keep secret. I used it to my advantage."

"You blackmailed the elven princess?"

A small smile lit his face. "Blackmail? I would do no such thing! I negotiated for a worthy cause. As it turns out, the skeleton was not as hard to remove as you thought."

"You made Euralysia steal the skeleton for you?"

"Apparently. As you know, I have no memory of it."

I wondered what bit of information he'd learned about her. For a time, I'd suspected her of being the Dreamthief.

"Olive, there is something I must tell you."

And here we go. Was Kull ready to confess what Mr. Green had hinted at?

"You don't have to tell me. I think I already know."

"You do?"

"Were you helping Mr. Green?"

He knitted his eyebrows.

"Because I understand completely. I forgive you. I know how it must be sometimes, to support a cause you believe in but—"

"No," he cut me off. "That is not at all what I meant to say. I never met Mr. Green until I found him in the tower with you. I had meant to tell you something else."

"Oh," I stopped. "What?"

"I—" He glanced up at Fan'twar. My stepfather cleared his throat, then mumbled something about checking on my godson and left the room, all six tons of scales and teeth.

What was going on? What did Kull have to say that he couldn't say in front of the sky king?

"I have decided not to marry the princess," he said.

I blinked. "What?"

"Marrying her will not stop the war. In fact, the war is already started. My marriage would have only delayed the inevitable."

"What does Euralysia think about this?"

He hesitated. "She agreed. Under the circumstances."

"Was this part of the blackmail?"

A small smile creased his mouth. "It may have been." His face turned serious. "Euralysia agreed to help me free you, but she could do nothing to stop the war. The goblins have organized. My own sister has joined them."

This actually made sense. It had been Heidel who'd sabotaged us, not Kull. "But why would she do it?"

"Because she fell in love with Geth."

"What? How did that happen?"

"Do you remember the scars on her hands?"

"Yes, I remember."

"They were put there by goblins—by Geth—when she met him in his true form almost three years ago. She was on a scouting expedition near the goblin lands when her troop was attacked. She was captured by creatures who she thought were elves. She managed to lure their leader, Geth, into a sense of security. Unfortunately, he fell in love with her, though I will never understand how she came to love him. She learned that Geth was actually a goblin and the leader of the Caxon. They have since vowed to stay in their elven forms, although they were forbidden by the elves to do so."

I rubbed my forehead. "This seems so ridiculous sometimes. Where is Heidel now?"

His face grew grim. "She has left us to join the Caxon. Although I've rescued you, the Caxon are still very much a threat. Their quest to summon Theht has only begun. Mr. Green was the leader of one faction, but with him gone, Geth will have the ability to take control of all the Caxon—and of the entire goblin nation."

Through the window, a thin trail of smoke snaked into the sky. From this far up, the smoke could have come from miles away. Drums beat in the distance, the drums of a battle.

For the first time in a thousand years, war had come to Faythander. My stomach sank as the drumbeat continued.

"Will you fight?" I asked Kull.

_Dumb question. Of course he would fight._

"I will not join my father in the resistance. Not yet. I have something much more important to do first."

"Like what?" My heart sped up. What was he saying? Was he hinting at something? Did it have to do with me? Was this the real reason he'd dumped Euralysia? Maybe this was finally the moment I'd been waiting for. Or dreading. I couldn't decide which.

"I must find my sister first."

His sister? Yes, of course. His sister. What was I, delusional? I tried to rearrange my thoughts. He didn't even remember what had happened on Earth. In his mind, we were still close acquaintances and nothing else. It didn't matter anyway. I still had a boyfriend back home. I'm sure I could make things work with Brent. Assuming I wanted to try. Thinking of choosing Brent over Kull made my heart turn to a lead weight in my chest. I did my best to push the heartache away and instead focused on what Kull was saying.

"Do you think your sister wants to come back?" I asked.

"I know Heidel. She wears many masks, but she cannot conceal the truth from me. She is loyal to her family. And to me. I will convince her to come back, even if I have to kill the entire goblin race to prove it."

"Will you go alone?" Despite my attempt to rearrange my thought process, my heart only felt heavier. I didn't want to let him go. He'd saved me from the Dreamthief. Surely he cared for me on some level, even if it was as a friend. But the truth was—I'd fallen in love with him.

My throat tightened. I didn't want to hear his answer.

"Is something the matter?" he asked me.

"No." I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just very tired. You should probably prepare for the journey to find your sister."

I turned away from him to face the window. The ash-scented air turned the sky a dull gray. I crossed my arms as a chill seeped in through the open window.

"Olive." He spoke my name softly, though in his deep, commanding voice. Placing a finger under my chin, he turned my head toward his. His penetrating blue eyes stared straight through me. I couldn't look away if I'd wanted to.

"You never told me the truth of what happened in Earth Kingdom."

I swallowed. "I didn't?" My voice came out as a breathless whisper.

"Whatever happened, it does not matter."

"Why not?"

He took my hands in his and knelt beside me. "Because I am in love with you."

I blinked. _Did I hear him correctly?_

"I have not been honest with you. I have admired you ever since you broke down that door. Since then, my feelings for you have grown. I admire the magic you wield. I am attracted to your sarcasm and your humor. You beauty is enchanting, even if you don't see it. If you do not feel the same way, I understand. I realize you have attachments to someone else—someone far below my merit. Yet, if you choose him over me, I will understand, and I will not bother you any longer."

"Someone below your merit, huh?"

" _Far_ below, I believe, were my exact words."

"And you feel that you'd make a better match for me?"

"I am certain of it." He leaned so close I felt his breath on my cheeks. I quietly inhaled the heady scent of his skin and hair, which smelled of sandalwood and spruce. "I can prove it to you, if you ask nicely."

I swallowed. I'd never felt so alive, so nervous, so invigorated. I stood on the edge of a cliff, ready to soar to a place so breathtaking I could only imagine it. All I had to do was say yes.

He leaned closer until his lips pressed to my ear. "Say yes, Olive. Please."

A shiver ran through my body. The greatest of all Wult warriors, the mad brute who defied death, the hero of Faythander, knelt at my bedside and begged me to love him. I was dreaming. There was no other explanation.

I took his face in my hands. His stubble felt soft under my fingertips. I held his face inches from mine. "You're asking nicely?" I whispered.

"I'm begging you." His eyes were fierce and wild, lit with a deep forcefulness that drove me mad with desire. I leaned forward, just enough to let my chest press against his. I felt his warmth through the thin layer of gauze.

"Kull," I breathed. "Yes. My answer is yes."

His lips found mine. He kissed me softly at first, his lips caressing mine with slow, gentle movements. His hands moved to my hair, cupping the back of my head. Deepening the kiss, he made my lips open wider. The taste was intoxicating. I forgot to breathe. Liquid warmth ignited through my body.

The kiss in my apartment had been a tease compared to this. I would never be the same again.

When he pulled away, a wildfire lit his eyes. My chest rose and fell against his. I ran my finger along his jaw line. He grabbed my fingers and kissed them gently.

"Will you come with me on the quest to find my sister?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. Under one circumstance."

He raised an eyebrow.

"No more dinosaurs."

His smile caught me off guard. He leaned in and kissed my forehead. When he pulled away, a twinkle lit his eye. "But you must admit, my rescue was much more dramatic with Kitten."

"Kitten? You gave it a name?"

He kissed me again, I think mostly to shut me up. It felt good to be alive. A gentle breeze blew through the open window. Birds chirped in the distance. The sunlight penetrated through the low-lying clouds and warmed my skin.

Kull had saved me. I hadn't asked him to. He'd seemed so determined to marry the princess. Logically, I should've been dead right now. How was it that I'd miraculously survived?

Bill offered me an explanation. _It's called karma._
You don't have to wait, book 2, **Spellweaver** , is available now on all platforms! **Get your copy today!**

After Olive's last trip through Faythander, she wants a vacation. But there's no time for it when goblin treachery is afoot. When a Spellweaver, destroys the Everblossom—a tree containing Faythander's magic—the fairy-world utopia begins to die. The bloom of the Everblossom is all that remains of pure magic. Now Olive must travel through Earth and Faythander to find a place where it will flourish. 

# Acknowledgments

When my publisher asked me to write the acknowledgements page, I had just—that day—moved from Galveston, Texas to Wichita, Kansas. (Literally, I read the message while eating dinner at Arby's, right after unloading the last box off the moving truck.)

Moving was daunting—and so was writing my acknowledgments—not because I didn't want to, but because I knew I had an extremely long list of people to thank.

I know that I've forgotten someone, or possibly quite a few people, so if you happen to get on my list of "people I forgot", don't feel bad. Instead, take heart in knowing that you are smarter than I am.

Until now, I truly didn't understand the meaning of the phrase, "This book wouldn't have been possible if not for..."

My heart is full of gratitude for everyone who gave so freely of their time and energy. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such charitable, selfless friends.

First, I want to thank my husband David. He is my eternal companion. He supports me in every way—he reads all my first drafts, he supplies me with all the books on writing a person could want, and he's my first sounding board. His love for Dr. Pepper gave me the inspiration I needed to create Kull, and he is possibly the only person more excited about my book than I am.

I would also like to thank:

My children: Phoenix, Sequoia, Bridger, Gabriel, and Ronan—the five cutest, most talented, friendliest, and almost always well-mannered kids a person could have.

Jane Hanks—my mom. I will forever be grateful for your Uni stories—and for Fan'twar.

John Hanks—my dad, who gave me the motivation to work.

Lorena—my sister, and more importantly, a great writer, whose books I hope to see soon on the shelves beside mine!

Andrea—my sister, and Josh—my brother. You two are great siblings, but even better friends.

Nancy—my mom-by-marriage, whose contributions to my writing will never be forgotten. The laptop and editing funds, to name a few.

My father-in-law, Dale. My sisters-in-law, Rachelle, Beth, Ilana, and Abby.

Nick (who gave me the crazy fairy idea.)

Tulsa friends, who babysat while I went off to those crazy writing classes, and who supported me throughout the arduous writing process: Sherri Soth, Mylinda Ellis, Ann Jones, Marie Wood, Jan Bunderson, Lynsie Harmon, Susan Hlusko, Adriahna Myers, the Musungayi family (Big, Mi Mi, Rolande, Joyce, Tina, Kabeya, Sara, and Elodie.) Marci Mason, Suzie Burt, LeAnee Queen, Jenette Pierce, Lindsey Macintosh, Carolyn Anders, Janis and Ernie Myers.

William Bernhardt—most possibly the greatest writing teacher alive on the planet today. It would have taken me years to learn what you taught in a couple of weeks.

Also, friends from the writing group, whose advice and comments helped make my book better: Sabrina Fish, Tom Barczak, Erin York, Savvy Thorne, Katherine West, and Lara Bernhardt.

Galveston friends, whose reviews and support were invaluable: JoAnne Jones, Stormie West, Briana Mann, Cassidy Beus, Marian Millo, Katelyn Anderson, Beth Coon, Kim Marsh, Sharlene Ferrin, Mara Bliss, Teri Erasmus, Pepper McCoy, Sarah Van Wagenen, Natalie McQuay, Arrow Eastham, Anne Nance, Wilma Nance, Pat Merkley, Ruben and Irene Gariby.

I want to give an extra special thank-you to Clean Teen, who took a leap of faith and found Dreamthief worthy of publication: Beckie Gober, Courtney Nuckles, Dyan Brown, Marya Heiman, and Melanie Newton.

Fellow Clean Teen authors whose books inspired me to submit my own: Holly Kelly, Jennifer Anne Davis, Erica Kiefer, Amanda Strong, Melissa Cunningham, and Jon Messenger.

A huge thanks to Clean Teen's editors, who helped make my diamond a little less rough: Chelsea Brimer and Cynthia Scott Shepp.

Also, Tifani Clark, Aunt Charlene, Angela Archer, Uncle Larry—my first writing teacher, and Braden Bell—my first editor, and a great teacher and mentor.

Lastly, I want to thank my loving Heavenly Father. He is my savior and redeemer. He blessed me with the gift to write, but more importantly, the motivation to keep going when I felt like I couldn't, and for that I will be forever be grateful.

# About the Author

Tamara Grantham was born and raised in Southeast Texas. She earned a Bachelor's degree in English from Lamar University. After marrying her husband David, she followed him through his training to become a burn surgeon, which consisted of moving from Vidor, Texas to Galveston, Texas, then to Tulsa, Oklahoma, back to Galveston, and they finally settled in Wichita, Kansas. Tamara and David have five active, sweet, and almost always well-mannered children, ages zero to ten years. Their two pets, June—the Jack Russell Terrier, and Chester—a black cat, help to keep the house lively (in addition to the children.)

When Tamara isn't writing or tending her children, she enjoys taking walks through the woods, eating chocolate, and very infrequently, she enjoys a good night's sleep.

_Tamara would love to hear from you!_

www.tamaragrantham.com

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### Twisted Ever After

Book 1: The Witch's Tower

Book 2: The Dragon Swan Princess

### Olive Kennedy, Fairy World MD Series

Book 1: Dreamthief

Book 2: Spellweaver

Book 3: Bloodthorn

Book 4: Silverwitch

(Novella): Goblinwraith

Book #5 Deathbringer

Book #6: Grayghost

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If you are enjoying the Fairy World MD series by Tamara Grantham, we think you will enjoy On the Accidental Wings of Dragons by Julie Wetzel. Read an exclusive excerpt here.

Michael peeked up at the noise coming from the door. It had been the first sign of life in this hellhole since he had been chained to the wall days ago. Maybe someone was coming to let him out. Or even just give him a drink. God, he was thirsty. It didn't help that he could see a small trickle of water sliding down from a grate to pool just a few feet away. Tucking away from his needs, he readied himself for some kind of action. He'd been through extensive training to deal with stuff like this. There were hundreds of things he could think of to help him escape; he just needed an opportunity.

The light from the hall cut a square across the darkness of the dungeon as the door swung open. Squinting against the burning glare, Michael watched as his captor threw something large inside. Without a word, they slammed the door and left. "Well, that went well," Michael scoffed to himself. At least now he would have something to look at as he died of dehydration in a damp cell. Why they hadn't just killed him outright was beyond him.

In the thin light from the small, grated window, Michael's eyes searched the bundle that had been left. Was it something he could use to escape? It looked to be a wad or roll of some kind of fabric. Pulling against his chains, he tried to get closer, but his captors hadn't left him very much wiggle room. In fact, they hadn't left him enough chain to even sit down. If he stretched himself out, the toe of his right boot just touched the edge of the fabric. He tried to scrape it closer, but whatever was wrapped up in the bundle was damned heavy.

He had started to succeed in pulling some of the fabric loose when the bundle shifted. Michael froze as hope slammed into his heart. Could it be? Was there someone inside that bundle? His eyes reevaluated the mass. It could be the right size for a person, if they were small.

"Hey." Michael's voice cracked as he called to the bundle. He pulled against his chains harder and tried to poke it with his foot. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Hey." This time the bundle definitely moved. Michael stood back against his wall and watched as the cloth shifted. A split opened up, and a pair of delicate hands slipped free. His heart soared as the material pulled back and a woman rolled out.

She was the most exquisite creature Michael had ever seen. It wasn't the dainty curls or the soft glow of her skin that made his breath catch, it was the possibilities she offered. His entire continued existence rested in her hopefully kind hands.

She let out a gasp of air and raised one of those delicate hands to her temple. Pain raced across her face as she curled onto her side, gasping.

"Are you all right?' Michael asked, pulling against his chains. Mentally, he kicked himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. _Of course she was not all right._ He could see the pain racking her body as she wheezed. He wanted to rush to her and comfort her. If he could just get out of these damned manacles. Racking his brain, he tried to think of a way to help her. The men who had captured him had taken his jacket and guns, but had they emptied out his pockets? He shifted against the wall, searching, hoping it was still there. "Hey," he called to her again.

She lifted pain-filled eyes to him.

He shifted to show her the bulge on the side of his leg. "There's a medic kit in my pocket." It was only standard issue, but there was a dose of morphine in it.

The woman studied him for a moment before another wave of pain lanced through her. It took her a few minutes of deep breathing before she could unroll again.

Michael's breath caught again as she pushed out of the material wrapping her. He had been right; she was the most exquisite creature he had ever seen, but this time, it wasn't her potential he noticed.

The gold and bronze of a sleeveless ball gown hugged her shapely frame as she forced herself part of the way up from the floor. Her porcelain skin was flush with pain, but even that didn't distract from her beauty. Unable to find her balance to stand, she crawled over and flopped down next to him. She pressed her back into the cold, stone wall and looked up at Michael. He could see the question in her eyes.

He nodded at his pocket. "There are painkillers in the kit."

She studied him again before reaching up and pulling the nylon pouch free. Rummaging through it, she found the pills and swallowed them down without the aid of water. After a few more deep breaths, she leaned her head over and rested it against the side of his leg.

God, she felt good. Her heat seeped through the canvas of Michael's pants, warming him. Tilting his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and waited. The morphine would kick in soon to ease her pain, but she would probably pass out from it. That meant a few more hours until he could get that drink he so desperately needed. Rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he tried to work up some saliva to tide him over. He turned his mind to the woman resting against his leg.

Who was she? Overall, she was rather rumpled from her trip, but she was still amazing. Her golden hair was braided and wrapped up in an elegant twist on the back of her head. Little wisps of hair curled gently around her shapely face, softening her lines. She seemed oddly familiar, but he couldn't place her. _She must be someone famous. Maybe an actress or singer._ He shook the thought away. This group wouldn't grab someone like that. They were set on power plays and money. She was more likely the wife of a politician or the head of some state. That would explain the recognition. He'd probably seen her at one of the many events where his group served as security. He closed his eyes and tried to pull up her identity. If he just pushed, he could do it.

Movement from his side pulled Michael from his thoughts. The woman had shifted away from his leg towards the pool of water. His dry lips parted as she dipped her fingers into its silvery surface. He could just taste the water she had cupped in her hand. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lip as she raised her hand to her mouth and tentatively drew in that life-giving liquid. His heart sank as she spit it back out, coughing. God, there had to be something wrong with it. Michael let out a defeated sigh and hung his head. He would die hanging on a wall, just feet away from help. Maybe it just tasted bad. Hell, right now he didn't care if it was sewage, he desperately needed liquid.

The warm tingle of magic tickled across his skin, drawing his eyes back to the woman. Her fingers rested on the surface of the pool, drawing runes in the liquid. Michael's eyes widened. If she knew magic, they might have a chance. He watched in silence as she finished her spell before lifting another handful of water to her mouth. This one met with her approval. To Michael's surprise, the woman bent her face to the water and sucked up a great mouthful. Oh, how he would love to do that! He looked around for something she could use to bring him some. Maybe if she tore off a piece of the material she had been wrapped in, she could soak some up. That would just be heavenly.

The woman stood up from the pool and turned to Michael. Even though it had only been a short time since she'd taken the drugs, she looked a lot better. His eyes darted to the water. What was the best way to ask for the help he needed? To his surprise, the woman stepped close and looked into his eyes. Her amber eyes shone with compassion, and his mind relaxed. Somehow, he knew that she wouldn't let him die chained to that wall. His eyes fell to her perfect mouth. A bead of water clung to the corner, and the desire to lick it up overwhelmed him. Sure, those rosy lips, just slightly puckered, would make her mouth absolutely kissable, but it was the promise of moisture that made him lean forwards with the desperation of a dying man.

It was pure heaven when she placed her hands on his chest and rose up to meet him. The softness of her lips on his eased the cracked skin. Her wet tongue slid across his mouth, and he opened for her. A gush of warm water flowed into his mouth, and he clamped his lips to hers so not a drop could escape. Pure ecstasy washed through him with that first sip. Shuddering, Michael swallowed what she offered. Honeyed wine could never taste as good as her mouth and that water. Desire shot through him, and he could feel himself stiffen as she pulled away. The woman let out a little puff of air, like a silent laugh, as she turned away to get him more water.

Michael's eyes dropped to the front of his pants. How was it possible to get a hard-on when he was so dehydrated? He was still fully dressed in black cargo pants and a T-shirt, and they were, so far, still hiding his growing arousal. But that laugh made him think she knew what had passed through his mind. His eyes traced the gentle curve of her backside as she bent to draw up more water. God, how he wanted out of those manacles! To be able to lift the folds of her skirt up, exposing more of that pale skin. To feel her warmth and wetness as he pushed into her. Michael shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the image that had settled into his brain. How could he be thinking of her like that? For God's sake, he had just met the woman. She was giving him water, not making out with him.

Michael nearly died when she pressed her mouth to his for that second drink. He pulled against his chains with the desire to hold her. To explore that wonderful mouth. Would her skin be as soft as her lips? Would she fit against him? Would the rest of her taste as good as her lips? He ached to find out. She pulled away, leaving him bereaved for her touch. Gasping for air, he hung from his chains. A note of concern filtered into his lust-laden thoughts. What the hell was he doing? This wasn't him. Sure, he fantasized about beautiful women, like any man, but it never went this far. When she came back with the third mouthful, he rounded up his scattered wits and pulled away from her.

"What are you doing to me?" He gasped.

Her eyes filled with a compassionate sorrow, and she made a sign with her hand. A sign that the entire world had learned almost two decades ago: _dragon_.

His mind clicked into gear. That explained everything. The magic, his hormonal response, and why this group would kidnap her. She was a dragon. Giving in to his uncontrollable urges, he pressed back to her lips to claim her gift. No human stood a chance against a dragon; the pheromones they put out could send even the Pope into a mating rut. Hell, the stuff was currently making the rounds as the latest designer date-rape drug. It was fast, effective, left no side effects, and was hard to prove in court. It was ironic that he would be caught in this potent chemical's clutches. He had been working to stop the organization producing it before being captured. He shivered again as she released his lips. This was going to make things hard, both literally and figuratively.

Normally, dragons didn't put out a significant amount of the chemicals to bother people casually, it had to be harvested and refined to be used as a drug, but a dragon could pass it on intimately with the same effects. He was probably getting a significant dose along with the water from her mouth. Had he known she was a dragon, he would never have let her feed him water that way. His boss was a dragon, and Michael had seen how uncontrollable women got after he kissed them. It was most definitely a good thing that his hands were chained above his head. Sure, he was going to have one hell of a case of blue balls, but at least she would be safe from him. The problem would come when they tried to escape.

Given several days and a few good hand jobs, he could work the pheromones out of his system, but did they have the time? Now that she was here, their captors would have to act. There was no way they could leave a dragon with magic in a cell. Even if they warded the area, it was only a matter of time until they got free. The problem would be him. When she did get him free of his cuffs, he would probably fall on her like a satyr among nymphs. He had seen it happen with others. It was not something he wanted to subject her to. She would probably understand, most dragons under those circumstances did, but he would hate himself for it.

Anguish rode Michael right along with the lust as she pressed into him with another mouthful of water. He needed this—without the water, his death was almost certain—but knowing that his response was chemically induced didn't ease the guilt plucking at him.

This mouthful slid bitterly across his tongue as he worshiped at her lips. The liquid burned his throat, leaving him gasping as she pulled away. Something was definitely different about that sip. He tracked the heat as it slid down and bottomed out in his stomach. She reached up and touched his cheek, pulling his gaze to her. Shock filled him as their eyes met. Apology shone clearly in her face as his stomach clenched in pain. Groaning, he tried to curl up as his insides began to boil. He barely noticed when she leaned into him, pressing his back to the wall and taking his weight from the manacles. God, what had she done to him?

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