

#

### With a Kiss

Stephanie Fowers

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Stephanie Fowers

Published by Triad Media and Entertainment

Triad.film.productions@gmail.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, incidents and dialogue are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission in writing from the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for supporting the author's rights.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

2013933259

1. Fiction. 2. Young Adult. 3. Paranormal.

ISBN-13: 978-0615767437

ISBN-10: 0615767435

Cover Design by Jacqueline Fowers

Cover photography by Kristi Linton

Editor: Tristi Pinkston

Second Editor: Shannon Cooley

Logo design: Ian Anthony

Map of the Sidhe: Ian Anthony

Typeset by Stephanie Fowers

Typeset/ html mentor: Rachel Nunes

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

# TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

SAMPLE CHAPTER: TWISTED TALES SERIES (BOOK 2) "AT MIDNIGHT"

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BOOKS BY STEPHANIE FOWERS

LIST OF FAERY CREATURES

GLOSSARY OF FAERY TERMS

MAP OF THE SIDHE

*For FAERY GLOSSARY OF TERMS and LIST OF CREATURES, Also see www.stephanie-fowers.com

# DEDICATION

To my nieces

All 20 of them.

May I have many, many more

So that I might write many, many, _many_ more books for you.

# Chapter One

Poor silver-wing! ah! woe is me!

That I must see These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!

Go, pretty page! and in her ear

_Whisper that the hour is near_!

—John Keats, _Faery Song_

"Stop crying. Please, stop crying!" I whispered.

I should've been normal. There was no reason I shouldn't be normal. I splashed water over my face. It ran down my cheeks. The bathroom mirror loomed in front of me, and I refused to look too closely at the dark smudges under my eyes. The crying wouldn't stop. And it wasn't coming from me—I had never cried a day in my life. It wasn't coming from anything. I covered my ears, and tried to drown out the noise with the music from my old school radio. It didn't work. The baby kept going at it. Crying and crying and crying until I smacked the bathroom wall with my fist. Nothing would make the noise stop.

I could get used to pretending I was real. I could laugh when something was supposed to be funny. I could ask questions to make others think I cared. I was used to my numbness, but this? My life had turned into _Midsummer Night's Dream_ gone crazy, or actually, a _Midsummer Nightmare_. Our small town theater was celebrating the season by doing the Shakespearian play at the school. But that wasn't the bad part.

It was my night to play the faery queen. Yeah, it's spelled faery with an _e_ (that's how these faery enthusiasts like it), and even though I'm not the best actress at Omak High, that still wasn't my problem. It was just . . . that baby. It kept crying. And there was no baby. Anywhere. Something was wrong with me. The crying had haunted me from the moment I stepped onto that stage, and now it echoed in my dreams.

I focused on my New York poster next to the towels, taking deep breaths. After a moment, I turned down the radio to hear blessed silence. The ghost baby had finally given it a rest. I fought down my shaky breath and pulled the toothbrush from my holder to go over my lines for the play that night. Anything to get my mind off what was happening.

Hearing a nonexistent baby who cried all the time wasn't one of my usual symptoms. No, I typically just had to deal with a heart that refused to work. I couldn't love; I had no empathy. I couldn't count my friends on one hand—not even one finger. Sure, they always counted _me_ , but a girl had to hide how crazy she was when her dad was the town's only psychiatrist. My parents thought I was normal, but what they didn't know was that their little girl was a highly functional sociopath. Either that or something had punched a hole through my heart and made it so I couldn't feel.

I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth and scrubbed at my teeth. No big deal, right? Hearing a crying baby was the least of my problems. I could hide this, go on like it wasn't happening. I had almost convinced myself, until I saw my shadow move in the mirror. My body tingled with fear. It wasn't my shadow, or if it was, it sure wasn't connected to me. It stood directly behind me, watching me as quietly as the late afternoon sun filtering through my window. My hand hesitated on my toothbrush.

What were the odds that I was still asleep? I remembered taking a nap, getting up, reading some online college applications, but had I really? Or were my nightmares getting worse? I'd definitely take that over this being real. My fingers trembled as I pulled the toothbrush out of my mouth, and, through the bathroom mirror, forced myself to study that thing behind my head. I picked out hollow eyes that watched me . . . as if the shadow thought I didn't see it staring. The shadow _thought_? My mouth went dry. I hunched my shoulders and spun around.

There was nothing there.

Hairball, our orange striped tabby lounged on the edge of the porcelain tub like a Cheshire cat. My eyes fixed on him instead. Everything seemed peaceful enough until the cat's head snapped up to watch the mirror behind me. The hair on my neck lifted in response.

I felt something there, too, its breath in my hair. The cat let out a hiss and sprang off the tub, abandoning me like the traitor he was. With my heart ripping out of my chest, I swiveled and saw a pale face fill the mirror. It was rotting and covered in a strange burnt shadow of long, red hair. I stumbled backwards, colliding into the bathroom wall to escape it.

_"Reclaim the lost,"_ it whispered.

"What?" I asked. "What is that?"

"Come home."

"Halley." I recognized my mother's soft voice. She knocked gently on the bathroom door from inside my room. "Halley Starr! It's show time. Get in the car, honey. You'll be late."

The face was gone from the mirror. I tried to catch my breath. It was worse than one of those ghouls in the darkest corners of a haunted house. And now I had to pretend I hadn't seen it. Like every weird thing that happened to me, I had to keep this from my family, too—just another sacrifice to be normal. I hated the thought, but not as much as I wondered what I would do if the shadow came back. I took another deep breath. No one knew I was hearing things . . . or seeing things. I just had to keep it that way.

I had been a sickly baby. No matter how many doctors and specialists saw me, they couldn't figure out what caused it. By the time the mysterious ailment went away, it was too late: my family was officially worried. It was all I could do to keep them from being suspicious.

My mom knocked again, louder this time. "You're not in the shower, are you?"

"What? No. I'm ready to go." I made my way to the door, feeling the numbness worm deeper inside the more helpless I felt. I tried to fight it. Even if the shadow with the weird red hair came back, it couldn't hurt me. It wasn't real. And the cries? There had to be an explanation. I opened the door from my bathroom, seeing my mom smooth down the creases of the comforter on my bed.

Her mouth dropped when she saw I was still in my blue plaid pajama bottoms. "Halley!" The usual dimples in her cheeks disappeared. My mom was all softness and sweetness in her signature worn-out jeans, but now she looked furious. "You aren't even dressed. Your play! I'm talking _your_ play begins in an hour. Your sister is already waiting in the car."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she headed for the door, picking up some dirty clothes on her way out and chucking them into the laundry basket. "But that baby won't stop crying," I whispered to her back. It was the first time I had said it out loud.

There was no way she'd hear me. "You have three minutes!" my mom shouted on her way down the hall.

It was time to execute another typical Halley Starr photo finish, as my dad liked to call it—I had to get ready and out the door in record speed. I ran out of the bathroom and tripped on a dumbbell, then stumbled against the back of my computer chair. It hit me in the shin. I hopped on one foot and stubbed my toe on the desk for good measure. My legs buckled and I landed catlike on the ground. It _would've_ been catlike if I hadn't landed on a pile of dirty clothes. It was hard to be graceful when I was such a slob.

That was _not_ a typical Halley Starr photo finish.

My bedroom was a veritable landmine of clothes and shoes. Some sociopaths turned to serial killing—I turned to shopping. Cover me in color, and it hid the drabness inside, except now there was something even worse hiding inside me, an evil lurking that I couldn't explain. I tried to keep my mind off that hideous face, and rummaged through the clothes on the floor until I plucked out a flip-flop. I found a wing to my faery costume and then dragged out another from the hamper. It was a little wrinkled, but not beyond redemption.

The chimes at my window crashed merrily together and I winced, digging around my computer for my cell phone. The messy room was the closest thing I had to being just another bratty teenager. I spent my life mimicking them—their concern with others, their crushes, their meaningless cares. I was fascinated with their emotions and relationships; I even watched my sister's favorite show, _Hot Club_ , for tips. I thought I could get in some good practice being a real girl when I tried out for the play, but that's what had triggered the crying and plunged me into these nightmares in the first place.

Lately my dreams were filled with hands. I had a feeling that something about the hands made me into the cold person that I was. The hands felt so real, almost like memories, because in my dreams, I remembered how to feel . . . and it seriously hurt when they reached out and ripped that out of me. Afterwards, there was nothing. Like a void in my heart covered with rusty chains. The only thing that touched a nerve now was that baby's cry.

My mom leaned on the horn outside, completely oblivious to my inner drama. I gave a deep sigh, fished for my other shoe, and hobbled for the door, gathering my blue tutu hanging on the knob on my way out. I ran through the house and shoved open the back door to the driveway. The heat of the summer slapped against my cheeks and I winced against the bright sun.

My mom lifted her hand from the horn seconds before I jumped into our gray minivan. The moment I slid the door shut behind me, she shifted the rearview mirror so she could look at me. "You still look tired, honey. After this play, you're getting some rest."

My younger sister, Daphne, sat up in the front. She was already in her Peaseblossom costume, pink feathery wings and glittery make-up. Her blonde hair whipped around her face when she circled in her seatbelt to smile at me. Daphne was always smiling. She was the typecast of the sweetest faery in existence, that's why she got the part of Peaseblossom. We were complete opposites; she felt everything I couldn't. Sometimes I tried to get her riled up to see what she would do, but she never let it get between us—I guess that's why I got the part of the mean faery.

"Dad and the twins are coming later," Mom said. "He's picking them up from swimming lessons." Now that I was safely ensconced in the car, she was back to her loving ways. She backed out of the driveway, tucking her graying blonde hair behind her ear. I was responsible for quite a few of those grays. "We are all so excited to see your play tonight. You girls look so gorgeous. And you're so talented! No wonder you both got main parts."

If things weren't so serious, I would've laughed. The Starr family, of which I was strangely a part, thought everything I did was great. Not only were they the nicest, most oblivious family in existence, they were also beautiful, blonde, long-legged things. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had dark hair and I was short—not just short compared to them, but compared to _everyone_. Family pictures in the Starr home always made me laugh. I was the emo among cheerleaders.

After a three-minute drive down the only main street in Omak—that just happened to be called Main Street—my mom turned the car into the parking lot of Omak High. The parking lot was filled with Buicks and beat-up Chevy pickups. Everyone supported the Arts here, ritzy and redneck alike. No, we weren't in New York or California; we were nestled in the shire of Washington, with our once-a-year Suicide Stampede to keep us occupied in the summers. Besides that, we had nothing else to do.

Mom dropped us off at the high school with a cheerful wave, and a minute later I found myself trudging down the newly painted halls with Daphne. It was silent until we passed the auditorium filled with people. Being on stage in front of my entire school and their parents wasn't a problem. I knew how to put on an act, but I didn't want to catch sight of that shadowy corpse again. It had better keep its distance during my scenes, or I didn't know what I'd do.

A herd of faeries passed me in the hall, and I waved along with Daphne. I nodded back at a few black-dressed techies, mirroring their energy. I tried to return a teacher's smile, but pretending to be like everyone else was getting to me. I felt my head hang the closer I got to the dressing room. Why did everyone look so happy and excited? Instead of going through the motions, I wanted to feel what they felt, too. I pushed into the dressing room and threw on my faery costume, knowing my face mirrored the dullness inside.

"Faeries!" Our stage manager poked her head into the messy dressing room. "You have fifteen minutes until curtain."

Shoes and props lay scattered over the floor. I shoved my way to a make-up stool to put on the finishing touches. My legs dangled inches above the ground. Blush. I needed plenty of blush. Anything to cover the paleness of my face.

"Hurry. Hurry."

Girls disguised as faeries stared into a mirror that had been placed cruelly above my reach; I could see my forehead. They danced around in a flutter of agitated skirts. I caked my eyelids with blue eye shadow. My lipstick was a shade too red, and I tried to wipe it off. The other actresses took nervous breaths, darting glances at our frazzled stage manager.

It all faded into nothing when I heard the faint sound of that crying baby again. My heart sank. I splattered too much glittery faery powder under my gray eyes, and turned cautiously to my neighbor. Her brush hovered over her face and she tilted her head. It gave me sudden hope. "Hey," I said. "Did you hear that?"

She gave me a blank look. Nope.

"What's the matter?" My younger sister was the only one paying attention in the crowd of gossamer wings. She waded through our street clothes piled on the dressing room floor to get to my side. "Hear what?"

"Nothing!" I felt my voice hit a hysterical note.

Daphne cocked her ear to catch a trace of it. Then she shook her head and dimpled. "Sorry, Halley. What does it sound like?"

"It was nothing." I glared up at the bottom corner of the mirror, my tight control unraveling as I pushed up to my tiptoes. My sleep deprived eyes gave my face a sinister contrast. Yeah. I looked the part of the haughty faery queen alright, and I didn't like it.

My sister stood next to me, easily a foot taller than me. Her concerned eyes met mine. "Is it that baby you used to complain about?"

I shook my head again. Harder.

"Oh, honey. What did you do? Did you hit your eye?" The girl playing Cobweb grabbed my chin and dabbed yellow make-up under my eyes while Mustardseed plaited my dark hair. And no, I hadn't bothered to learn their real names.

Cobweb fluffed my skirts. "Did you even _try_ to iron this?" I shook my head and she gave me a stern look while trying to undo all the wrinkles. Everyone babied me. Maybe it was because of how short I was compared to these long-legged ballerinas. I slid back to the makeup stool and took the treatment out of habit.

Moth danced past me in her puffy skirts. I actually knew her real name, since she had crashed our house almost nightly this summer to watch _Hot Club_ reruns. Kolby was Daphne's best friend, and the two were inseparable. I listened to their giggles, feeling dead compared to them. "Maybe it's the ghost of the theater," Kolby teased. "You've finally made him mad."

I gave a scornful laugh.

"He's tired of your bad singing and he's trying to drive you crazy so you'll run off the stage screaming like a Banshee." Kolby stretched her arms up. Light glinted across the beautiful coppery skin that she inherited from her Colville tribe. She practiced a pirouette. I gave her a tired smile. If she knew what I was really hearing, she'd know I was already crazy.

"You need to appease the phantom of Omak High with a sacrifice." Daphne's eyes twinkled. "Here." She tucked a peacock feather in my hair, finishing off my costume. "He left this for you to wear. Sorry. The phantom was all out of roses."

Kolby giggled. "Daphne, do you want your sister to fall flat on her face? Peacock feathers are bad luck on stage. Who brought those?"

Daphne frowned and tried to pull the feather loose, but I wouldn't let her. I didn't believe in bad luck, or good luck. I never wished on a star. I didn't believe in happy endings or charming guys . . . or faeries for that matter. Sorry, Tinker Bell.

"Places, faeries! It's your cue."

That was our stage manager. I slid off the makeup stool. "Good luck," I told Daphne.

All the actresses gasped in horror. Daphne let out a little scream. "Halley Starr! You never say good luck in the theater! Quit trying to ruin the play!"

"Faeries!" Our stage manager tried again. "Curtains are going up with or without you. Move!"

Another excited murmur filled the cluttered dressing room at the announcement, but it wasn't enough to drown out the baby's cries. My heart sank when, this time, I heard whispers too. They added to the confusion in my head. I groaned. There was no way I could deliver my lines like this. I couldn't make out the words, but the voices sounded close by, like they were just outside my dressing room. My fists clenched. Maybe they were. I stormed through the door, my layers of blue skirts floating airily behind me.

"Halley." As soon as I stepped out into the narrow hallway, the guy who played Puck tried to get my attention. "Hey, I've been looking for you." A single florescent light sputtered over us, glistening strangely off the black painted walls. Puck had discarded his usual red hoodie in exchange for his faery costume--which wasn't much, just a black hand mark on his bare, sculpted chest and some black cut-offs.

He was tall and fairly good looking in a drama geek sort of way. All the other faeries loved him, but there was something about him that made me feel like a porcupine. No kidding. He actually made my hair stand on end. Somehow he sensed this, which was probably why he couldn't leave me alone. I nodded at him and tried to slip past.

"Where are you going, Ice Queen?" He stepped in front of me, blocking my way. "Aren't you going to talk to me?"

I managed a sickly smile. "Well, if it isn't . . . uh, Puck?" His was another name that eluded me. I think it was Ren, but it was strange enough that I didn't want to chance it and get it wrong. "I'm on call, so . . ."

"Wait, you look good enough to touch." And he did. He flicked at my dangling earrings, and I jerked away.

We had a cat-and-mouse thing going on, but I never had the stomach for it. Human contact felt awkward at its best. Even though I didn't quite reach his shoulder, I easily flounced from him. "Save it for the other faeries," I told him over my shoulder. A beautiful wing smartly whipped him back. He made an angry hiss; not that I cared, but I still took note. It meant he wasn't as nice as everyone thought he was. Not that anyone would believe that from the girl with no compassion.

The whispers carried through the hall, and I chased after them, rushing to the end where the lockers were, only to find it all empty. My shoulders sagged. The whispers weren't real. Nothing was. My entourage of faeries swept past me and dragged me backstage with them.

After a conspiring nod to each other, my sister and Puck rushed onto the stage, eager to depict Shakespeare's faery war. I watched with dead eyes, resigned to a confusing night of a crying baby, whispers, and human interaction at its strangest.

The play was the usual war-of-the-sexes plot by Shakespeare: boy versus girl, they fight, they cause trouble, they fall in love. I played the faery queen fighting the faery king over a baby, and since all my loyal subjects were involved in the battle, I got to listen to Puck and my sister banter onstage. I could barely concentrate on their lines.

"A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king," Puck said. "She never had so sweet a changeling."

The baby cried out again. Wait! I sagged in relief. This was a play after all and we needed a baby to play the _lovely boy._ The kid was totally real this time, except—"I thought we were just going to use a doll for the part of the changeling," I whispered to Kolby.

My sister's best friend didn't answer, unable to tear her gaze from the guy who played Puck. She was part of his fan club who watched breathlessly from the wings as he executed his lines.

"Jealous Oberon would have the child," Puck said, puffing out his chest. I supposed it was impressive for a high schooler's.

My sister strutted across the stage, the flowing material of her pink skirts dancing around her legs. "You are that shrewd and knavish sprite call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he that frights the maidens of the villagery?" Daphne couldn't look stern enough when she addressed Puck. My sister was almost as bad an actress as I was.

I smoothed my skirts, getting ready for my cue. Puck delivered it with expert aplomb and I swept over the planks of the stage, my dress gliding over my slippered feet, a diminutive faery queen surrounded by a train of swanlike faeries. The faery king entered from the other side. He was dressed like a barbarian with fake tattoos splattered all over his bare chest. We met in the middle like two army captains. He glared savagely down at me. I matched the angry look. Being ferocious was the only part of acting I was good at.

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," he said, bowing coldly to me. "Am not I thy lord? I do but beg a little changeling boy to be my henchman . . ."

In Shakespearian language, that meant he was asking for the human baby that I stole fair and square. I tilted my head. The one-eyed feathers in my dark hair bounced at a jaunty angle. Yeah, bad luck, but what didn't kill me . . . I tried not to sneeze when an errant feather drooped over my nose. "What, jealous Oberon!" I managed to say. "The faery land buys not the child of me."

I searched around for that bawling bundle of joy. Wouldn't someone bring it in about now, you know, if it were actually real this time? I desperately hoped so, but no one stepped forward. I tried to tell myself it was because it wouldn't stop crying, and fighting over the kid wouldn't be believable.

"Give me that boy," Oberon said, "and I will go with thee."

I took a deep breath. "Not for thy faery kingdom. Faeries, away!" My long graceful sleeves slipped over my hands. My costume was a little big. The faeries followed me out and we watched from backstage as Puck, the most mischievous faery of all, plotted against me with the faery king, devising a way to distract me from the child with a love potion. I couldn't concentrate on the play at all.

The voices were at it again, only this time I could make out the whispers: _"Where is she? Where is she?"_

I craned my neck. The talking came from the catwalks above the stage. Was it the techies? I glanced around at the other faeries. They watched the play as if they didn't hear a thing. I sighed. Not techies.

On our cue, we stormed back onto the stage. I settled into a bed of wild flowers while the faeries danced and sang in a dizzying blur around me. Letting my eyes grow heavy—which wasn't too hard considering my sleepless nights—I collapsed onto the flowers. It took forever, but eventually the other actresses danced themselves into exhaustion and landed on their own beds of flowers beside me, seemingly gone to the world _and_ the play around us. The spotlight felt hot on my face. I took a deep breath and waited.

With all his manly prowess, the faery king snuck in. I could hear the bare pads of his feet slap across the stage and then the thud when he knelt beside me. The tip of the vial carrying the love potion felt cold against my closed eyelids. "What thou seest when thou dost wake," he feigned a loud stage whisper, "do it for thy true-love take."

I tried not to snort as he traced my still face with his fingers, droning on about finding love at first sight when I awoke. Nothing seemed more farfetched. Seriously, if anyone needed a real love potion, it was me . . . or really good acting skills, because I was low on both.

"Wake when some vile thing is near," the faery king commanded me. Moments later, the words seemed prophetic. My bed of flowers carried me up above the stage as if I were a sacrifice to the sky. I listened to the humans weave their tangled web of love and lies on the stage below and jerked in surprise when the voice I had been hunting all night whispered from the catwalks just a foot away.

"You cannot have her."

My eyes wrenched open. The whispers were within touching distance now. The audience could still see me and I tried to find the exact source of the voices without turning my head. It wouldn't do for everyone to know the faery queen was awake . . . or delusional.

The shadows painted the catwalks in black ink and seemed to stare down at me like the shadow had in my bathroom mirror. I swallowed hard. A warm gush of air brushed past my cheek, and it felt eerily like a human breath. It rushed over my bare arms, creating goose bumps everywhere it traveled.

My heart thumped rapidly. This wasn't happening. _This wasn't happening!_ The ropes holding my bed of flowers in place groaned and began to swing like an invisible hand pushed against it. My whole body tensed as if I could fight something that wasn't real. I listened to the players below, not able to concentrate on them.

The bed of flowers sagged in protest like a powerful weight crushed against it. I struggled to breathe, grappling for some kind of hold. If the ropes broke, I'd fall to my death on the hard stage below. Something cold and scary lurked inches above me. I could sense it . . . but no, my senses were faulty. I couldn't trust them. The weaves on the basket began to burst. That did it! I didn't care that I was crazy. I had to get down.

Too late, the bed of flowers swayed. My fingers clenched over the ivies and my bed dropped. I gasped before I realized what was happening. The techs were lowering the bed closer to the ground. Nothing was broken. I was still in one piece. Everything was okay.

The guy playing Bottom sang drunkenly below me. It was supposed to be my cue to wake up and fall in love with him, the most hideous creature in all of faeryland. It was Shakespeare's idea of a joke, but I didn't care what lover boy looked like. A half-human, half-donkey mix had nothing on what lurked in the shadows above me. I remembered that decomposing face in my mirror.

I took a steadying breath and popped my head over the side. "What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?" I asked a little too loudly.

My knuckles were white on the ivies. Bottom was supposed to sing a few more crazy rounds, but the whispers above me started again and I tried to cover them with another shout, "I pray thee, gentle mortal! Sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note." Maybe Bottom's rowdy singing could drown out those voices too, though nothing could disguise them. I had to get down from here. I tugged on the ropes to show the techies I was serious.

"Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! And Mustardseed!" I bellowed, cutting off quite a few of Bottom's lines. "Get over here! Get me down!" Bottom's mouth fell open and after a confused commotion, my delicate sister danced onstage with the other faeries just as my bed mercifully touched the ground.

Bottom plopped down next to me before I could get out. My skirt got caught underneath him and I tried to tug away inconspicuously. The fact that I was scared out of my wits made my acting worse and with a sinking heart, I felt my instincts kick in. The guy grabbed for my hand and I shrank away. Normally, I'd slap a guy for less, but this was a guy playing a donkey and I was supposed to be acting like I was in love. What was wrong with me?

The audience laughed and I could only imagine the director's groans. This was not some faery queen in love with a weaver turned monster. I tried to cover it up. "Out of this wood do not desire to go." I commanded Bottom in an angry voice as if the fear of losing him made me so prickly.

"Where's my baby?"

My breath quickened. I was crazy. Certifiably crazy! The baby was in my head, just like these voices were in my head. I wasn't sure if they were talking to me, or if I was overhearing some strange conversation no one else could hear--but I didn't know how to hide this!

I turned to Bottom with a determined glare, as if ignoring these voices would make them go away. His donkey ears quivered, and he frowned under his makeshift snout. I took a deep breath. "Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no," I commanded him.

He stared at me in shock, since I had effectively cut our scene in half, more than half. I was a director's nightmare. I stumbled out of my flowery bed and stalked off the stage, trying to escape the darkness that threatened to swallow me. The kid playing Bottom rushed after me into the wings, his feet stomping loudly. "What are you doing?" he hissed. He grabbed my elbow before I could escape.

"Help me!"

I stilled and stared up into the semi-darkness. "Please tell me you heard that!" He looked blank. Of course he didn't hear anything, but I pointed anyway, desperate to prove I wasn't insane. "That noise above us. Just try to hear it! Could you just try? Please."

Under his donkey nose, Bottom's lip shook with frustration. He escaped me to find a more sympathetic ear to bemoan his ruined acting career.

I let him go, staring up at the catwalks, I listened to the voice. It called to me, and I found myself on the stairs before I could fight it. After everything that had happened, nothing should entice me to go after those voices, but I felt myself moving up to them anyway, like Sleeping Beauty going after her spindle to fulfill a curse that I didn't want to fulfill. My whole body felt relaxed, and I couldn't get myself to care that I was heading for danger. A flash of light ripped past my face, and I jumped back, the spell over me broken like a splash of cold water.

"Help me."

I hesitated on the stairs. The darkness loomed over me. I shouldn't be doing this. The whispers were frightening enough. I tried to turn back.

"My baby!"

My hand landed back on the railing—against my will—and I pulled further into the gloom. The voice actually moved me up the stairs, edging me closer to whatever threat was up there. My faery skirts swished against the railing behind me. My heart cried out against every step like I was caught in a nightmare, but my feet refused to obey. I opened my mouth and tried to call for help, but my voice was gone. Nothing belonged to me. I reached the catwalk and watched the actors' heads below. They were too far down. I hoped whatever force controlled me wouldn't drive me off the edge.

"I wonder if Titania be awaked?" the faery king asked below on the bright stage.

_I was Titania--_ well, I was playing her--and yes, I had never felt more awake. Every sense tingled with a fear I had never known before. From the darkness I watched the actors beneath me, feeling like a fly on the wall . . . pursuing a spider.

Puck entered the stage below with a smug grin. "My mistress with a monster is in love," he announced.

Was I? Something strange controlled me. I hesitated on the catwalk and peered into the shadows. They were forming into something, a light in the darkness that grew pale blonde hair until it swept over the catwalk. Then there appeared the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her face looked to be cut from ghostly marble, as if she had never known the sun. Her silver robes were part of the mist that clung to her. It wasn't a bad look, really.

She turned, watching me. "Please . . ." she began.

"Onagh!" I heard a man's rough voice. The ethereal beauty stepped back as he ripped through the air. Looking distasteful, he peeled it from him like a spider web, but didn't bother to brush the rest off his powerful shoulders as he stalked our way. The man was dressed entirely in black shadow. His dark-eyed gaze swept over her. He wasn't happy, and he looked powerful enough to do something about it. "Give me the child, Onagh."

The dialogue seemed strangely familiar. I backed into the shadows, not wanting this man to see me. "Finvara, I . . ." The woman looked close to breaking. "I cannot. You know not what's been done!"

The baby cried out somewhere in the darkness, and I waited for the black-haired man to do something. Things had gone too far for me to think these two star-crossed lovers were techies, but I couldn't believe this was what it seemed to be either. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a reenactment of the play below with two powerful figures fighting over a baby. Different names, different faces, much more drama.

Through the stillness, I could hear someone coming. The footsteps trudged closer, and I jerked to action, realizing I had control over myself again. My legs. My hands. I ripped my fingers free from the railing and twisted backwards. Nothing felt so good, and yet so frightening because I couldn't move away fast enough. The footsteps were almost on me, and I hid behind a pile of backdrops, muffling my loud breathing behind my hand, trying to keep from strangling myself. A techie casually strolled past me and walked through the fighting couple like nothing was happening. Likewise, the couple acted as if they hadn't been interrupted by him, either.

"You cannot be here in the Otherworld. It is forbidden," the man told the beautiful lady. "We must leave."

The woman shook her head. Tears glistened over her alabaster skin.

"Cupid is a knavish lad," Puck's voice echoed up to us. "Thus to make poor females mad." My eyes widened at the significance. Puck was absolutely right. Not just mad—I was ready for an asylum—but I couldn't stop watching. This was better than any teen series Daphne followed, maybe because it wasn't supposed to be happening. Two beautiful people caught in tragic circumstances that I was dying to understand. If it wasn't all in my head, I'd grab some popcorn.

The techie threw some rose petals down to the stage below. Then, completely oblivious to the drama enfolding before him, he left me alone with it.

# Chapter Two

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

_For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand_.

—William Butler Yeats _, The Stolen Child_

"It's just a lover's spat."

I turned back, seeing a guy with disheveled blond hair lounging in the shadows behind me. He looked just like any other senior. And he was amused in a hot kinda way. My head tilted. Yeah, hot. It was the first time I had thought that about anyone, so really, my first impression was wrong. He _wasn't_ like any senior guy I knew. Why hadn't I seen him before this? Omak High is the smallest high school in existence, and secondly . . . "Um, can you see those people in front of us?" I whispered. I was proud of how calm I sounded.

The blond studied them for a moment. His dark eyes slanted into almonds. "Yeah."

I think he was laughing at me. I didn't have time to wonder why, because the venomous voice interrupted us: _Come to me, O Child of Darkness!_

Child of Darkness? Once again, the voice came from above, and I gasped when my arms lifted up at the command. I had no control over myself today. Wait a second; she wasn't calling _me_ the Child of Darkness, was she? It would just figure. I mean, I was messed up, but I wasn't evil. A ringing filled my ears.

Come and claim the birthright of the Stars! The time has come!

I grimaced at the loud, cackling laughter that followed the announcement. It sounded terribly creepy, but it didn't matter; my traitorous legs still couldn't resist it. I stepped closer, and would've run straight into the arguing couple, but with mounting horror I felt something even blacker than the darkness wrap around me. It felt like a strait jacket, and it stopped me from moving, holding me so tightly that I couldn't get to the voice . . . and strangely enough, I wanted to get to that voice more than anything.

I tried to call out to it, but the guy next to me clapped his hands over my mouth and edged me back with him, too. "No, that would be a very bad idea." His rough cheek collided against mine. Someone hadn't shaved today, and I couldn't complain like I wanted to because I didn't have the use of my mouth, and . . . my heart lurched. His bare skin on mine was doing something strange to me; it made me woozy. My legs buckled. He made a surprised sound—we both did. That foreign sensation of being able to feel any kind of emotion rushed back to me more unbearably than it ever did in my dreams, and it hurt.

His hands loosened over me. "You feel that?" he whispered.

Yeah! For once. My heart felt like it was going to collapse. After a moment, the flooding emotions swept away, and the coldness returned under his warm hands. What had he done to me? One touch and he forced me to feel.

The black stuff oozed around us both, clamping over my hands like cuffs. My gaze darted over it, and I tried not to gag at the panic filling me.

"It's only your shadow." He chuckled softly, though there was a trace of uncertainty in it that made me nervous, like he was trying to play it cool, but he couldn't quite after what had happened between us. "You're not afraid of your own shadow, are you?"

My shadow? That's what had me? It had never acted out like this before, unless it was the same thing that had stared me down from my bathroom mirror. It wouldn't let me go. I couldn't ask why with that guy's hand over my mouth. He was stronger than he looked; definitely not an actor. Maybe he was on the soccer team. My head rammed against his shoulder. The evil voice called out to me again, and he jerked me back from it, this time with more force.

The beautiful woman approached the dark-haired man in front of us, her movements slow. "You cannot have the child." She leaned into him, her fingers caressing his jaw before she pressed a tender kiss against his lips. The anger in the powerful man's eyes was replaced by a stricken look.

The blond guy made a sound of derision next to my ear. Well, _someone_ was jaded.

"Finn. Please," the woman breathed. "Forgive me."

The man's hands were on her cheeks, and he ineffectually tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, looking furious while he did it. "Onagh, what have you done?" he asked.

"Oh, she's got him right where she wants him," the blond whispered into my hair. He sounded amused. "Kisses aren't just kisses with faeries . . . they're _kisses._ "

Did he say faeries?

The air blurred over the woman's unlucky swain, and it darkened until it clutched his broad chest, pulling him away from her. The last thing to disappear was his hand tangled through her lovely hair. He held it almost reverently.

"There's always mischief in faery kisses." The blond's gaze flicked over my lips. He studied me with a distracted air and, after a tense moment, released me. His expression cleared into a casual one. "Just depends on the faery's intentions, really."

It seemed like a warning.

The black shadow holding me captive let go of me next, and I watched it with stern eyes to make sure it went back to where it was supposed to be. It did, sliding behind me like a shadow should. I needed counseling.

Faeries? Is that what these people were supposed to be? Now that I could see this blond better, he didn't look like a faery. He wore a dark tee and jeans. His leather watchband slid down his sinewy forearm. He was normal in the high school sense, except for that devilish look; it was strangely alluring.

"Faeries, huh? Where are your wings?" It was probably one of the stupider things I've asked.

His eyes danced as if he were debating whether or not to let out the laugh that threatened behind his curling lips. He flicked my fake wing with a finger instead. "Faeries don't have wings, just like angels don't, you oaf."

I heard an intake of breath behind me and swiveled. The beautiful . . . _faery_ , I guess, stumbled towards me, holding her gossamer skirts free from her dainty feet. The woman was already pale, but now she looked positively white, like she had donated too much blood. "My baby . . ." She was losing strength. Her hands clasped mine. "Take her!"

"Me?" Take a baby? That was a terrible idea. Hadn't she heard that sinister voice above us call me a Child of Darkness? I wasn't evil, but I wasn't the warmest cookie in the batch either. I glanced behind me to see what the blond thought of all this, and jumped when I saw that he was gone.

"Halley." The faery woman jerked my attention back to her. "Wandering star."

She knew my name? The tender note in her voice made me uneasy.

Puck, our resident heart-throb actor, leaned over a hapless human on the stage below us, his dark hair getting into his eyes as he wielded the love potion. "On the ground, sleep sound," he said in his gravelly voice. "I'll apply to your eye, gentle lover, remedy."

Not good! The beautiful woman wouldn't put some sort of spell on me too, would she? Who knew what a real faery could do to a human like me? But no, this was all in my head. If only I could force that message to my brain.

The faery stared at me with luminous eyes, not blinking. "There is doubt in your heart," she said. "But we are not a dream. _You are._ Can you not perceive this?" The skirts of her dress glittered, catching the stage lights from below. It surrounded her in a kaleidoscope of colorful stars.

I shook my head to clear my vision. "It's a schizophrenic episode," I said. "I need help, some sort of medicine or . . ." She laid a pale hand over my heart and I felt it burn through me. I gasped out.

"Oh, I feel it now," she said. "I feel what _she_ has done to you. _Child of Darkness?_ " She sniffed in disdain. "No, it is your heart; it is cold from disuse and misuse." She gave me a measuring look, and then looked relieved. "It is still good, but is it strong enough?" She touched my head as if she would find out. I groaned at the sudden pain, seeing lights . . . and something more. The world came into focus around me. It gave me a horrible headache. "You are the keeper, chosen from the beginning," she said. "You were a sickly child. Do you remember the hands that came for you?" Only dreams, and they weren't real. I shook my head. "Do you remember what those hands did to you?" she asked.

"No."

"Then remember this." She placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, and at once I knew the blond guy was right. Kisses from faeries _were_ dangerous. My eyes grew heavy. Still, she wasn't through with me yet. She started to chant, "With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see. Then one and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax."

I cried out, feeling something strange crawling through my hair. My hands flew up to touch what felt like horns, and I yelped. Seriously? I was growing horns? I had enough problems acting nice as it was. I gingerly tapped them while running my fingers down something that felt like a headband—a tiara? It built on itself until something twinkled from the center of it and lit up the catwalks around us. I tried to tug the whole thing off, but it was all molded to my head.

"Your days are numbered here, my love."

The ethereal lady needn't have bothered me with that information. I could feel it—she had killed me with her words. I cried out at the pain, feeling the band tighten over my head. It screamed into my ears, and with difficulty, I kept myself from falling over. "Your destiny is _hers_ now." The lady's voice sounded sympathetic, and I didn't want it, especially since she sounded like she came from the bottom of a well.

My legs shook. Everything felt weird and hollow. The world faded around me. Just as I was about to pass out, a baby wrapped in a cocoon of pink and white blankets appeared in my arms like a rabbit from a magician's hat. My pain vanished at the sight of her. I looked down into a pair of innocent hazel eyes—they were the kind of eyes that hid all sorts of color. Her face was soft and trusting. She was one of those angelic babies no one suspected would do anything bad, but I knew better. My sleepless nights proved that.

The woman's hand lingered mournfully over the baby, but she wouldn't touch her. It was probably a good thing, because the lady's touch felt like death. "She has no name," the faery said. The baby shook a mirrored toy at her with a chubby hand. Giving her a smile full of regret, the faery touched the toy instead, her eyes lifting to mine. "My baby. Do not rest until you've brought her back to me."

Well, that was easy. I tried to give the baby back to her. The blonde lady gave me an exasperated look. "No, in three days' time. You must find the way. It is how you will stop those who want this power for themselves. Promise me." She took my face in her hands, her nails digging into my skin. "Say it. Promise me."

"I . . . promise?"

The faery gave me a reassuring look, though she couldn't keep her eyes from darting around like she was expecting something bad to happen. "You will not be alone," she said. "I have sent one to help you."

A crash echoed through the catwalks above us. We stared up into the rafters and shadows hanging threateningly over us. My arms tightened around the baby. Already I could feel my connection to the little girl. I had never felt anything like it before, like I would do anything to protect her because she was a part of me. The faery had talked about my heart, and I suspected it was a curse, making me feel something I didn't normally feel. Affection?

The faery's eyes were on mine. She looked scared. "The hag is here. You must not let her get this child." Her hand traced the band over my head. "She cannot find you with my emblem of protection. It will keep you safe."

"Come to me! Sun, moon, star. Cease your cry, reveal to me where you are!"

With a last lingering glance at the silent baby, the faery took a deep breath. "I can stop her, my darling, but not for long." And with that, she raced to confront whatever was chasing us, her platinum hair streaming behind her like a moonbeam.

I stopped myself from shouting after her, and huddled behind the backdrops instead, listening to the fighting somewhere in the darkness, feeling just as helpless as this baby in my arms. She looked up at me silently, her short neck straining against her big head. I tightened my hold on her. The kid probably knew more about this than I did. If only she could talk.

The arguing voices got louder. "I know what you've done, hag! Witch!" The beautiful faery's voice went all shrill. "Now you will know what it feels to lose everything you love!"

"As you will, my dear. As will you."

"You cannot have my baby!"

The crueler voice guffawed in response. " _Onagh, fraud, thief, deceiver. As long as this child hath breath, you are banished. From these lands, your power hath vanished. Leave here!"_

"Then with that curse, you'll suffer too," our protector lashed back. "Your magic on this sphere you'll n'er renew. Be gone with you!"

A shrill scream followed the curse. " _You cannot stop those I send! In three days' time, I'll have my revenge!"_

The voice faded, and our protector cried out with her. The noise spiraled into silence. Strangely enough, I sensed that the beautiful faery was gone, along with whatever evil that was after us, both of them banished from this place by a few weird and rhyming words.

The baby and I were alone in the shadows. I buried my face into the kid's soft blanket, not sure what to do. The faery's kiss and touch were more than enough to convince me that this was real, but how could I help this child if I didn't know what was happening? My body ached, and a deep weariness pressed down on me. The baby's small fingers tangled through my hair. I lifted my head, meeting her big eyes. She watched me with too much trust. No one had ever depended on me like that.

"I can't help you," I whispered. "I don't know how."

"That's okay. I do."

I glanced up, seeing the blond guy again. His grin was mischievous, but there was something else in it too. Confusion? Recklessness, anger, a little guilt? That didn't make me feel any better. He offered me his hand. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but I had no choice—I took it, feeling the same warmth flow through me at his touch; though not as potent as the first time, it still wasn't comfortable.

"They've lost their strength since the baby's been gone from the Sidhe," he said.

"Who?"

He jerked me to my feet in a far-too-familiar manner. "The faery king and queen. You refer to them as Titania and Oberon in your little play. Good job, by the way. You looked really . . . _affectionate_ on stage."

I scowled at the sarcasm, not wanting to be reminded about ruining the play right now. Things were only going to get worse. "They called each other Onagh and Finn," I said.

He put a finger to his lips to shush me. "Look, those are just a few of their names. Euphemisms really. Mom and Dad to you." I jolted in surprise when I thought he was referring to me, then saw him smile at the baby. "Isn't that right?" She gave him a gummy smile in return, and he sucked in his breath. His eyes darted about as if expecting something bad to happen, then he let out a shaky laugh. "If you had those faeries' full names, you could bring them all here just by saying them. Names at our place work like a code. Of course, your pronunciation and each syllable have to be correct." His eyes returned to mine. "Not now, though. You heard those two fighting—they're banished from this sphere until we get you back."

"Back where?"

He didn't answer. A light flared over us and I finally had enough wits to run. I didn't get too far before he grabbed my shoulders and stopped me from plunging headlong into the dark maze of catwalks. "Not that way! You'll run straight into whoever that hag sent after us." He dragged me down the stairs after him, looking over his shoulder at me and the baby. There was something penetrating about his eyes that made it hard to look away, like he knew more about me than he should. Mercifully, his eyes left me to study the mysterious thing on my head. "Never get involved in a crown war with faeries," he said.

"This isn't a crown." I tugged at it with a free hand, but it wouldn't come off. I heard a sucking noise and immediately stopped, not wanting to rip my hair out with it.

"Wow, you don't know anything, do you?" he asked. "There's a war going on. Bring the changeling and she will lead the people." I must've looked confused, because he took a deep breath before explaining. "Yeah, I thought it was wishful thinking too—before now, before you. By the looks of things, we finally have a fighting chance. That's good news, right?"

"A fighting chance against what?" I asked.

"Against _whom_ ," he corrected. "We'll call her the hag for now. You know the drill. Just saying her name will invoke her, blah, blah, and that means," he said way too condescendingly as we hurried down the rickety stairs, "if you so much as breathe her true name, it will alert her to where we are and then she'll find us. Even if your protector banished her from this place, she'll send others after us. That's how faeries work. Get it? Got it? Great." We landed safely on the ground floor. The play was still going on. Everything seemed normal, but I had a feeling nothing would ever be the same again.

"All shall be well," Puck said onstage.

No, it _wouldn't—_ especially when I heard the tail end of the blond guy's words: "If she finds us, she'll kill us all. Of course, she'll reserve something special for me . . . after she hears what I've done."

His chuckle echoed in the darkness.

# Chapter Three

Sleep on, sleep on, some fairy dream

Perchance is woven in thy sleep —

But, O, thy spirit, calm, serene,

Must wake to weep.

—Edgar Allen Poe, _To—_

"Where were you?" Someone grabbed my shoulders from behind, pulling me away from my new ally, or tormentor, or whoever he was. It was Daphne, my younger sister. I blinked at her, trying to see her better through my exhaustion. The faery queen had done a number on me. My vision was all blurry. "I'm so glad I found you," she said. "You almost missed your cue."

She looked down at the baby and laughed. "Looks like you found who was making all that noise." She tickled the serious baby under the chin, not really getting a reaction from either one of us. The baby's eyes were on mine like she knew me. Definitely not a newborn; I decided she was about six months, though I was probably way off.

"You naughty little thing, driving my sister crazy." Daphne spun away from us, a cute tilt to her head. "Well, now that you've found your changeling, get out there, Halley!" I looked around for the blond guy only to see he had abandoned me again. I wasn't surprised. "Go." My sister shoved me out onto the stage.

With sudden fear, I remembered that I was supposed to act like I was asleep on that bed of flowers; it would take me above the stage again. I stepped over the sleeping humans. The audience watched in silent anticipation—knowing that I was a ticking time bomb—and I moved even slower. I didn't want to go into that contraption again. The techies would try to lift me back up and _whatever_ that thing was would be inches above me and this poor little baby.

My steps felt heavy like I was half-asleep—no, maybe a quarter asleep. I knew it had to do with what that lady did to me, the lady I was now playing. Was she truly a faery queen? She made sure I was only a pale shadow of her. Peaseblossom and the rest of the faeries danced out behind me with the donkey in their ranks.

I decided to play it safe, and landed on my knees, pretending to collapse _near_ the bed of flowers. I was sure I was driving the techies crazy. The bed of flowers swayed, but they decided to leave it on the ground for now. My eyes felt unnaturally heavy and it was a relief to close them. The baby was still in my arms, but so far she was keeping quiet. She leaned her round bald head against my neck like she belonged there.

I listened to Oberon's advance, and in my daze my hands tightened over the baby. No one was taking her, even if they were just acting. My connection to her was too powerful. The faery king conversed with his weaselly sidekick, Puck. "See'st thou this sweet sight?" he said. "Her dotage now I do begin to pity: then did ask of her her changeling child." He reached down and tugged my baby away.

I sat up, feeling the pain tear through my head as he walked away with her. What kind of improv was that? The band on my head screamed a warning into my ears the farther he took the little girl. The separation would kill me.

I gritted my teeth to stop myself from doing anything stupid, but the pain was too much. Like a marionette, I was on my feet and dove across the stage. My hands landed against the wood and I flipped off it in a round of dizzying flips—which was crazy, since I was no cheerleader like my sister Daphne. I reached the actor and forced my legs to stay put, so I could snatch the baby back from his arms. He stared at me with an open mouth.

Where did that come from? Not sure. The audience gasped in delight. It wasn't exactly the most efficient way of getting the little girl back, but my head no longer felt like it was going to tear off.

Ignoring Oberon's shocked look, I dropped dramatically back to the ground, pretending to fall into another deep sleep. Laughter rippled through the audience. Oberon hesitated before he continued his lines, "Which straight she gave me."

That sent the audience laughing again, but I didn't care. I only wanted the pain to be gone. Now fatigue replaced it. Instead of a rushing pulse after my stunt work, my heart beat dully. It didn't make sense. Nothing did.

"And now I have the boy," Oberon said, leaning over me. I could tell he was more nervous this time, and he refused to touch me. "I will undo this hateful imperfection of her eyes. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen."

Somehow I managed to force my eyes open. The world seemed a little hazy. I concentrated on the toy in the baby's hand. The mirror on it swirled. There was something in it. I blinked, trying to see it better, but couldn't. "My Oberon," I mumbled my line through thick lips. "What visions have I seen!"

I searched for the blond behind the curtains. Was he hiding backstage or was he out in the audience, critiquing my horrible acting skills? I realized that Oberon was waiting for me to finish my line. "Methought I was enamour'd of an ass," I slurred.

The faery king pointed at Bottom masquerading as a donkey. "There lies your love." I couldn't even act surprised. My eyes rolled back in my head. "Come, my Queen, take hands with me." He pulled me to my feet and I gasped for air, trying to keep myself awake.

Puck watched me with concern, almost like he knew what was happening, which was impossible; besides I was too tired to really read his expression, anyway. The faery queen had drugged me somehow, which was a stupid move since there was no way I could take care of her child like this.

I spied a scruffy blond head near the curtains. The sight of him worked like a slap to wake me up. Puck glanced over his shoulder. The blond smiled and backed away from all of us.

"Come, my lord," I told Oberon. I was eager to get off this stage so I could wring some information out of that devilish knave. I did it the best way I knew how, cutting right to the end of our scene. "Tell me how it came this night that I sleeping here was found with these mortals on the ground?"

Oberon hesitated in shocked dismay. His eyes narrowed at his suddenly smaller role, but I could barely pay attention. My eyes were on the blond backstage and I advanced steadily on the culprit. "Gladly," my costar hissed in retort. He jerked me off the stage with him as efficiently as a crook. Puck followed slowly.

The blond laughed at us and disappeared.

# Chapter Four

But I, so wild,

Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,

Never, I know, but half your child!

In the garden at play, all day, last summer,

Far and away I heard

The sweet "tweet-tweet" of a strange new-comer

—Charlotte Mew, _The Changeling_

"You were wonderful!"

What a lie, and the hilarious thing was that they believed it. My family surrounded me, hugging me. Already, a bright bouquet of flowers was tucked under my arm, the baby in the other. I blinked heavy eyes, trying hard to concentrate on the world around me. That trickster could be anywhere around here. At least I hoped so. I hadn't gotten far through the crowd of crying children and sleeping grandparents before my family grabbed me in the auditorium. Apparently this play was the best thing they had seen since . . . my last play.

My mom enveloped me in another big hug, all brightness and smiles. "I've never laughed so hard." The laugh lines on her face showed differently. "What a great rendition of the play. We loved it!"

My dad winked at me. It looked like he had come straight from work—he was still wearing his suit. "Good job, pumpkin." He put his arm around Daphne too. "The Starr girls were the stars of the play. And I'm not being biased."

Daphne giggled and I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. This was going to take a while. My two youngest sisters, Kelsey and Leslie, flocked around me, bursting with sweetness and adoration. The twins didn't mind that no one but us could tell them apart. In fact, I swore at times they liked it. They dressed exactly the same, with pink shirts and white shorts over incredibly long legs. They were the mermaids of the family—they spent more time in the water than on land. And though they were a good four years younger, both of them had outgrown me by a few inches. Kelsey relieved me of my flowers and Leslie peered good naturedly at the baby, tucking in her pink blankets and asking the usual questions. "Who's this? What's her name?"

_I had no idea._ "The changeling," I said, "from the play."

Kesley and Leslie laughed at the obvious and stole the swirly toy. The baby reached solemnly for it. Her chubby fingers danced in the air, and they took pity on her, laying it gently back into her hands. Then the twins took turns kissing her cheeks.

"How come you still have her?" Daphne asked.

I sighed. "I'm looking for its mom now." And I was wasting time.

" _It?_ " Kelsey and Leslie giggled in unison. "She looks like a _she_ , not an _it._ Huh, cutie?" They made googly sounds at the kid and tickled her on the face with the flowers, but she just watched them with grave eyes. The twins were completely enchanted by the baby's aloofness, which was probably why they thought I was so awesome. It was the challenge of winning the hard-to-get love.

I was just happy to get the attention away from me. Besides the baby and the exhaustion, something strange was happening, and I didn't want anyone to notice. If this was what normal felt like, I didn't want it. These new emotions were making me anxious, and it was only getting worse, which meant I was really in for it. I leaned against a jammed row of seats, smashing my gossamer skirts in the process.

"Honey, you look tired," my mom said.

"No, I don't . . ." My voice turned into a whine. It was my only defense against being coddled. It all stemmed from being a sickly baby, which I knew all started with those hands. Why had they come for me in the first place? The faery said the hands messed with my heart. Or, this could all be a relapse, some sort of schizophrenic episode. The only trouble with the theory was that my life hadn't felt all that real until now.

My family prescribed all sorts of remedies for my low energy, but I tuned it out when I felt something staring down at me from the houselights of the auditorium. My heart skidded to a halt. Whoever it was, it watched from the shadows in the rafters. That meant trouble. I kept my focus on the baby. She seemed real, but what if I had stolen her from someone? No one had been able to diagnose what my disease had been from my childhood—maybe it was a form of kleptomania.

And now I was paranoid.

My mom looked worried. I could tell because she bit her lip and quickly changed the subject. "I like your costume, Halley. What a beautiful tiara."

Really? The blond wasn't lying. It _was_ a crown. I freed a hand from the baby to touch it. So far, the thing only smashed my head too hard when I let the baby get too far from me. "I just want it off."

"Oh, does it hurt?"

I cringed at the anxious note. Yes, but why was that the first thing everyone assumed? I wasn't _that_ fragile. I mean, not normally. My family rushed forward to help it off my head. I skipped back a couple of steps, and fought them off with a false sense of bravado. "I have to wear it for the . . . uh . . . pictures. It's really not that bad."

"Of course not," my dad said.

Mom nodded. "Well, it looks beautiful."

My sisters beamed at me reassuringly.

"Are you adopted?"

I turned on my heel. So, there he was! Mr. Mellow-No-Matter-What-Happens leaned casually against the stage platform, jutting his hip out in his amused, know-it-all way. Now that we were no longer in the darkness, I could see the logo printed across his black punk shirt: _I'm the guy your mom warned you about_. Nope, definitely not ethereal. I knew exactly what he was getting at, though. For lack of a better analogy, my family could've been faeries, they were so beautiful, and I was . . . well? Me.

"And why do you say that?" I asked.

"They're nice."

He got me there, but I wasn't about to introduce him to my family after insulting me. I waited for them to come to my defense, but they uneasily ignored the argument. As a rule, they didn't like contention.

"We're just concerned. That's all," my father said. He treated me to a wink.

The baby hit me in the head with her swirly toy, and I winced. So did everybody else. Her fat fingers barely fit in the handle. I smiled when I saw them. Such cute fat fingers. I gave a tired laugh. The faery queen must've put quite the powerful spell over me.

The swirly toy was just inches from my eyes, and I gave it a good cross-eyed look. The mirror was gone from the face of it, and something else replaced it. It looked like a fuzzy TV screen or dancing ants. I squinted at the toy, and a face shot into view. I sprang back. The toy clattered to the worn, red carpet. My head shot up, and I saw my co-conspirator give me an amused look. That jerk had stolen the toy from the baby and thrown it.

"What did you do that for?" I asked.

"Now now, it wasn't on purpose," my mom chided me. No matter how much they spoiled me, they never allowed me to be rude.

But he _had_ done it on purpose. Not that I blamed him. Why was there a face in the mirror, anyway? I didn't see who it was, but it was female and terrifying. I peered at the blond under my lashes. "Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" He shrugged and reached for the toy. The baby whimpered and I leaned down and grabbed it before he could. "Get away from that," I told him. "It isn't yours."

My family made disapproving sounds, each of them looking startled in their own innocent and gentle ways. My mom managed a stern look, her soft brows floating together like clouds. "Really dear! Give the baby her rattle."

I folded the baby's tiny hand over the handle, giving the blond my coldest shoulder. It just figured Mom would take his side.

# Chapter Five

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack'd from side to side;

"The curse is come upon me," cried

The Lady of Shalott.

—Alfred Tennyson, _Lady of Shalott_

I rushed through the school hallway, fuming. I looked like a complete jerk in front of my family because of that crack head, and even though I was used to it, this time it wasn't my fault. My mother's keys jangled in my hands. She had decided to go home with Dad while I tried to find the baby's mother. But where was she? I rushed backstage with my new baby in tow, past a worried Puck, past the techies and scenery painted with pretty forests and bright clouds.

The hallway to the dressing room was silent besides loud sweeping. I ducked my head, not wanting to talk to anyone. The broom came to an abrupt halt. The band on my head whispered a warning, and my stomach lurched when I looked up and saw the school janitor staring down at me. He wore his gray uniform, neatly pressed. I noted his muscular forearms, the large hands holding the broom handle in a killing grip. His eyes were on the baby. The band constricted painfully against my head as if it sensed the danger, too.

"You going home?" he asked in a friendly voice.

That broke my tense spell, and I nodded. "Just grabbing a few things." I edged past, feeling him watch us while I sidestepped into the dressing room. I slammed the door shut and locked it for good measure. Not for my safety; for everyone else's—I couldn't be trusted in public with this baby. I was paranoid of everything and everybody, and judging by my performance onstage, fighting wasn't beneath me.

The baby cried out, and I set her on the counter next to all the make-up where she couldn't roll off. My legs felt weak, my head dizzy. I turned on the sink, splashing water over my face, desperate to force myself awake. My heart thumped out a dull beat, and with it, a tide of unwelcome emotions I wasn't used to feeling. Fear. Pain. Worry. It all hurt too much. After a moment of intense concentration, I forced all the emotion back down to where it couldn't get to me.

It took me longer than normal to get out of my faery costume and button up my gray jeans with my shaking fingers, but as soon as I did, I collapsed against the dressing room counter and got on my tiptoes to stare at myself through the mirror. I _was_ wearing a crown--well, a tiara. At first glance, it was made of silver—I had no doubt it was of more precious material, like magic. Still, it was way too formal for real life. Instead of a jewel decorating the top like I originally thought, there was a bright star. _Halley, wandering star_. That was what the faery queen had called me. Would she be able to track me now that I had this thing on? A scary thought.

The baby played with her toes on the counter. With a quick glance at her to make sure she was okay, I worked to get the tiara off. One tug and it made a strange sucking sound. Pain streaked through my head, and I stopped. With my luck, I'd tug my head off with it. I glared at the thing, and tossed up the hood of my hoodie to hide it.

"Don't worry," a deep voice said. I glanced up, seeing my new friend through the mirror. The faery costumes toppled around his feet. He leaned over the baby, his shoulder blades jutting out from his muscular back. He looked like an untamed cat ready to pounce on her. Instead, he played with her toes. She kicked back at him.

"How did you get in here?" I asked.

He spared me a glance. "Interesting costume . . . and I'm not talking the tiara."

He must be referring to my unusual taste in clothes—a green tank layered over a white tee decorated with yellow chicks, which was layered over a pink lacy ribbed undershirt, finished off with lots and lots of bracelets from the Colville Indian tribes at the Omak fair wrapped around my arms. I was fascinated with color.

He shook his head at me. "Ever heard of matching clothes?"

"Ever heard of a comb?" I shot out a response. "You look like you just crawled out of bed." He laughed appreciatively. I kicked over a costume box and stepped on it to look closer into the mirror. A moan escaped my lips when I began to realize the implications of being stuck with a tiara for the rest of my high school career. "I can't take my SATs like this." They were on Saturday, just three days away. I was planning on getting the most amazing score ever and taking it somewhere bigger than this place; New York or something.

"No, you _can't_ take a test looking like that," he said. "I'll pick out something decent for you to wear. Oh, not too decent. Don't worry." He reached over and tugged my hood off my head to check out the tiara. I scowled at him, but let him lift my chin anyway. His fingers were soft on my skin.

I stared at the elegant tiara through the mirror, studying every angle for myself. It would do for our final performance in two days, but it was really the wrong century for this kind of a fashion statement. I sighed. "People think I'm weird enough as it is."

He didn't try to make me feel better about it. "You realize you can't take the SATs with a _baby_ either." His fingers left me to run over the glitter the actresses had spilled on the counters. He sprinkled it over the baby's bobble head. The glitter caught the light in the air, and she tried to catch it. It was like watching a silent film. She was too quiet, the opposite of when I couldn't see her. The faeries must have stolen her voice box to get her to stop crying.

The blond turned from her to watch me. "You're just going to have to get rid of her." It looked like he was weighing his words carefully, like he was making this up as he went along. "That's your only option, you know, return her to her mom."

"Should we call the police?"

"What are you going to tell them?" He turned back to the baby, and she tried to grab at his moving mouth. He smiled down at her. "What do you think, cupcake? Should we call in the professionals for this?" As if she could understand what he was saying, she made a whimpering noise in response. My head lifted. He nodded at the baby as if in understanding. "You think so?" he asked, like they were actually communicating. Faery or no faery—whatever he was—he could _not_ understand baby talk. He steadied his elbow on the counter. His mesmerizing eyes caught mine; they were dark and filled with meaning. "She thinks _you_ can help her."

That completely broke the short spell he had over me. I _should_ report this to the police. And they would never believe me. I stared at the tiara through the mirror, trying to figure out what to do, when I saw a shadow flicker inside the glass. I jerked back, almost falling off the crate of costumes. My own shadow stayed where it was, peeling off my skin like a face mask. I screamed and swiveled, seeing it behind me, a thin black slice of me. My back shoved up against the counter, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping everything would go back to normal if I just ignored it. The mirror, my shadow, my head. My heart! My eyes popped back open and nothing had changed. My shadow stared back at me. I turned to the blond, my chest heaving with my chaotic breaths. "My shadow just came off my body. Did you see that?"

He didn't seem bothered by it, just nodded to my shadow in greeting.

The baby beat the swirly toy against the guy's arm. The face of it seemed to reflect snow inside. "The toy," I tried to control the quiver in my voice.

He shrugged. "There's a curse on us until the daughter of the queen takes her rightful place as our princess. That's what you see mirrored in that toy—snatches and images of our homeland wasting away."

He _was_ the one sent by the faery queen. The thought comforted me. He let me take the mirrored toy, and I stared at his homeland. Winter had stayed too long. It was a strange thing to contemplate since we were in the middle of an Omak drought—what we called one, anyway. The toy showed me a bleak and frozen landscape of another world. The fuzzy screen was really falling snow. I looked past it. The trees were dying. A few weak animals. No people or faeries. How long had the baby been gone? A few hours at the most. It didn't look good. We couldn't return her for three more days. "Why was I chosen to bring her baby back?"

"You heard the faery queen. She called you the keeper."

"How did I become a keeper? What's a keeper?"

The blond gave me a secretive smile and gathered the pink blankets around the baby, picking her up. Oh. No. He. Wasn't! This guy wasn't taking her anywhere . . . not with the way my head reacted when we separated; and I wasn't in the mood to go anywhere public with either of them. I tried to stop him from going, but he danced away from me with a smirk. "We've got to get some food in her. She could probably use some diapers, too."

My hands fell limply to my sides. I hadn't even considered that. "You really expect me to go out in public with this thing on my head?"

He gave me a maddening grin and headed for the door with the baby in his arms. My fists clenched. The guy knew exactly what that did to me—separating me from the baby, not the grin. With a few long-legged strides, he was almost out of my range. The tiara whispered a warning in my ears, and I charged after them before it could give me a headache that rivaled getting hit in the head with a baseball bat. I hoped my shadow was tagging along too. The mirror was at my back, and there was no way I'd look behind to see what waited for me there. I was afraid of what I might find.

# Chapter Six

Listen to the fairy history of Snowbell, the most fair.

A little babe, who, on a winter's night,

Snow-white and softly falling as new snow,

On her queen mother's pillow did alight;

There lying rare, And spotless fair, All fairy-wise bedight.

—Eliza Keary, _Snowbell_

"What did you say your name was?"

The blond smiled at me. The baby's hand wrapped around one of his rough fingers. "I didn't."

I couldn't even give him a proper set-down—I was too tired. I pushed the shopping cart through the aisles of the grocery store, using it like a walker. Was this how all new moms felt? The aisle wouldn't stay still, and the florescent lights blurred my vision yellow. As soon as my eyes drooped, the world played tricks on me. A creature crouched behind a cereal box. It was a green slimy lizard thing with a human face. It pushed a can of soup over. Just the image of it, and then it was gone. I shook my head and forced my eyes to open wider. I didn't know what was happening to me.

My shadow brought a hand to its mouth in a wide yawn. It lingered behind in the candy section when it shouldn't, stopped to read headlines on the fashion magazines, pawed at the most expensive make-up. But that was the least of my worries. Apparently faery babies wet like human babies. At least I wasn't the one to figure _that_ out the hard way.

We headed for the diaper section. My nameless companion threw everything stupid he could into the cart: honey, ice cream, candy bars. He read the back of a cake box. "Good. It's got sugar." He threw it on top of everything else.

"Stop it." I tried to block him from the next aisle.

His hand went to my waist. Before I could register that he was touching me, he moved me out of the way. He found some cereal boxes. "Should we get the frost tipped sugar plops or the chocolate-puff yummies?"

"Neither."

He threw them both in. "She doesn't seem to be growing. We think _you know who_ had a hand in it."

"If you were feeding her this stuff where you live, then I'd say it was _your_ fault she's not growing. We need some milk."

"Does it have sugar in it?"

"No . . . I don't think so."

"Well, forget it. Sugar is mother's milk to faeries. When we can't find saffron, that is."

"I gathered that." At least there was milk at home. Then I'd show this guy how fast a baby could grow with some proper nutrients. I left him and steered my girl to the baby cereal and pulled some off the shelf. It was for six-month-old babies—I didn't know her age for sure. "How old are you?" The baby stared gravely back at me. I couldn't really tell, especially with that wise look she gave me with those hazel eyes. I tried not to laugh at how serious she looked.

A lady in a power suit pawed expertly through the cereals next to me. I briefly toyed with asking her how old she thought our baby was, but decided against it. She had a very no-nonsense air and would probably think we kidnapped the kid or something. And if someone tried to take her away? I shivered. Most likely, it would kill me. Or maybe, I'd end up killing _them_. I didn't want to think about it.

"I don't know how old she is," I kept my voice down, turning to my mischievous partner in crime.

He leaned over to get a good look at the baby through his thick lashes. The freckle under his eye was the only thing marring his perfect complexion. Yeah, definitely faery material. He smoothed the baby's fuzz of hair back, almost getting a smile out of her. He glanced over at me. "How old are _you_?" he asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I sputtered, but I tried to keep it down. The stiff lady glared at me anyway.

He laughed. "I was asking the kid." After an intense staring contest, he shrugged. "She doesn't know. I'd say she looks to be about your age." The baby shouted out in indignation. Apparently I wasn't the only one he liked to tease. "Yep, about seventeen."

If I had more energy, I'd stomp my foot. He wouldn't take _anything_ seriously, and he wasn't being discreet at all. You would think the faery queen would've sent someone a little more sensible. "Would you, I don't know, grow up or something!" I raged at him. The lady scorched me with her eyes. I felt my cheeks go red.

"You want me to grow up? Really? How old do you want me to be?" He guffawed at my angry expression and pushed the cart away from the _boring_ section.

I grunted in pain, feeling the tiara tighten around my head the farther he pushed the baby. I ran after him and tried to hang onto the cart with all my might, but he just kept wheeling it down the aisle. "Where do you think you're going?"

Another shopper dodged out of the way. She pressed annoyed lips together. She should be giving the real troublemaker those looks. I straightened, seeing that he was getting into the children books at the end of the aisle. We didn't have time for this. I tugged _Cinderella_ from him, but he nonchalantly picked up another. This one was a compilation of faerytales.

"Hey look, it's about your people." He gave the book to the baby and she stored it in her mouth.

"You paying for that?" I asked him.

He frowned sternly at me. "Babies can't pay. Are you crazy or something?"

And that was beside the point. I wasn't talking to the baby, and he knew it. My hand went to my aching head. I was torn between laughing and strangling him. "So . . . is there anything in this store that breaks curses, like four leaf clovers? You know about those kinds of things, right, or are you just annoying and that's all you do?"

"Sure, I know." He gave me a challenging look. "Frog's breath, St. John's wort, English daisies . . . got any of those here?"

"Well, let me check the aisle where they keep the ingredients for spells. What do you think this is—a witch's shop?" I pushed the shopping cart to the closest register. To my dismay, the cashier was one of my frenemy acquaintances. She barely knew me, and yet she still seemed threatened by me. Valerie wore a horrible blue polyester number, her bleached blonde hair squashed in the front and big in the back and squeezed into a tight ponytail. It was the newest style about three years ago, I think. I, on the other hand, knew I looked odd.

Valerie gave me a tight smile. "What's with the hair thing?" She pointed to the tiara and popped her gum. "Wait, I get it. It's from the play, isn't it? Why are you wearing it in public?"

"Um, yeah." I patted it gingerly. "I still have it on? That's weird." I avoided her eyes, watching the black sky outside the glass windows.

Her hands were busily sliding groceries across the belt. The price reader beeped rhythmically, and I tried not to look too guilty as every sort of junk food imaginable passed over the scanner. It took me back to the days when I had scrounged for change under the couch cushions and used my plunder to score about ten candy bars at once—about two months ago?

Valerie brought the book of faerytales through. I glanced over at the tabloids on the shelf, my attention caught by the strange headlines, the ones that were way too embarrassing to buy. I read one of the titles: _"Suspected Skinwalker. Guy Peels Off His Face at Golf Course."_

The blond ripped the tabloid from its holder and threw it on the conveyer belt. After an intense staring contest, I gave in with a roll of my eyes. "I'll take this too," I said, feeling even dumber.

"Fifty-two dollars," Valerie announced with a smug voice. Though I had to give it to her, she didn't even lift an eyebrow at my sweet tooth and choice of reading material. Probably part of the job description.

I turned to the real culprit. He leaned against the cart, playing with the baby. He glanced my way, and she tugged on the silver medallion hanging from his necklace. He choked and gave her his leather wristband from his watch to chew on instead. "You're gonna help pay for this, right?" I asked.

He looked confused. Of course he'd act oblivious when it came to money. Valerie laughed and took that as an opportunity to pop her gum again. "You'll have to do it, nut job. You have the money."

What? Did she just call me nut job? And why was I expected to pay for everything? But the blond just grinned. When he turned to the pretty little grocery clerk, the grin got even wider, and I groaned when he turned his charm on her. The flirt. "Hey, why don't you introduce us?"

_Well, maybe if I knew his name for starters_? I tried to shame him with a heavy stare, but he wouldn't break, so I introduced him the best way I knew how. "Don't mind the imbecile," I told the cashier.

Valerie looked scandalized. "The . . . baby?"

The imbecile swallowed a laugh behind me and that's when I felt a shock spread from my toes and explode out my head. It all made sense now—the glaring customers, my disapproving family. No one but me could see this jerk, could they? Everyone thought I was yelling at this poor . . . this poor . . . baby? How real was _she_ anyway? What if I was dragging around some doll? "Um," I met Valerie's eyes. "What do you think of the uh . . . the kid?" I winced at the question, but still waited for the answer.

Valerie snapped her gum. "You babysitting?"

I sagged in relief. There was no way she'd think I was babysitting a doll. "No . . . I mean, yeah, I am." My head was spinning. I dug through my purse and laid the money down before I could faint and make her duty bound to tell the senior class I was on drugs or pregnant or something. Valerie counted out all my change while I tried to drag the baby out from her cart seat. It wouldn't do for her to be floating across the parking lot in this invisible guy's arms or falling on the cement because he wasn't really there. I was having a hard time getting the kid out. She grunted, her small fingers digging into my arms. Was she getting bigger or was I getting weaker?

Mr. Hot-But-Not tried to brush me out of the way. "I'll get her."

"Get away from me," I hissed. " _You're not real_." I met the baby's eyes. They were so solemn, and I broke into a smile in response. I wish I could make _her_ smile. Wow, what was I thinking? _I couldn't make anyone smile._ I was stuck with a baby and had invisible friends—well, enemies anyway. I messed up her fuzzy hair, and with my last remaining strength pushed the cart to the automatic doors. Hot air from a typical Omak summer night rushed inside to greet us. The doors swished shut behind us, almost smacking my shadow in the head.

"I should've known I was crazy." I kept my voice down so it didn't look like I was talking to myself. "The fact that I actually thought you were cute should've tipped me off that you weren't real. How unoriginal can I get? I couldn't even come up with a name for you."

He looked pleased, and too late, I realized I had called him cute. Even invisible guys had inflated heads. He let me walk ahead, and after messing with the candy machine in the entryway, he caught up to me in the parking lot, throwing some mints into his mouth. "Oh, c'mon, don't be like that. I can't give my name out to just _anybody_. That's how you call faeries. You say a name and poof, they have to go wherever you are, just like a genie. Except if you call them, they won't feel like granting you any wishes--not that you'd want them to. They might even curse you for it . . . it's really _that_ annoying to be ripped from place to place."

I headed for my car, having every intention of ditching him, except it was impossible since he was in my mind. I wondered if I was glad about that.

Studying my resolute face, he sighed. "Why don't you call me Hobs, then? It's short for hobgoblin, and since that's what I am . . ."

I unlocked my trunk and threw the completely weird and unsuitable groceries in. Besides the diapers, I felt like an idiot for buying them. "Aren't hobgoblins supposed to have horns or something?"

"I've chiseled mine down." Apparently he was matching my sarcasm with some of his own. "Hey, I'm the real thing. Heard of RobGoblin? Robin Goodfellow?"

I blanched, recognizing the reference. So, it was the rascal of _Midsummer Night's Dream_ himself? I should've known. He was _that_ naughty. Shakespeare really knew what he was talking about. "Puck?" I asked.

Hobs gave me a wry look. "Don't! Don't even think about using that name. I'd give you my real name over letting you use that one."

"Why? Is it a swear word?" He snickered, and I slammed the trunk shut. "Hobs, it is," I said. He was right—it was better than Puck. Or jerk. Because of him I had to do some major damage control. I tried to remember everyone I'd talked to when Hobs was around. I had looked like a raving lunatic, and he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to me. I looked from him to the baby. She was sucking on her fingers, staring up at me with huge, worried eyes. How was I going to get rid of these two? The problem was that I actually liked them. And anyone who knew me would know that was weirder than any faery sighting.

# Chapter Seven

Scarce set on shore but therewithal

He meeteth Puck, which most men call

Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall

With words from frenzy spoken.

"Ho, Ho!" quoth Hob,

"God save thy grace,

Who dressed thee in this piteous case?"

—Michael Drayton, _Nymphedia_

"I'm babysitting, Mom." I slipped over the polished checkered floor in our kitchen and quickly righted myself so I wouldn't drop the baby. My parents weren't the kind to ask questions where cute, fat babies were concerned. They loved babies. But I couldn't act like I was babysitting _all_ the time. My senior year was starting in a few months. It would be too strange.

Hobs dropped the groceries on the flowered tablecloth. I stared at him. It was one thing to hide a baby and my shadow's unusual behavior, but now I had to hide an invisible hobgoblin too. You'd think invisibility wouldn't be a problem, but it was.

Hobs roamed around the kitchen, opening the fridge and then all the cupboards. I didn't know what he was looking for, but he flipped over our cute little strawberry-and-lemon-covered dishtowels to search under them too. I sat the baby on the floor. The kitchen tiles were relatively free of crumbs, and it left me free to follow Hobs around, slamming everything shut after him.

This weird sleepy disease would be hard to keep from my already concerned parents. I felt like I was trudging through thick honey. And buying diapers? How long would my allowance last before it ran out, especially after buying all that candy?

"Hey, Halley." Daphne wandered into the kitchen, wearing her pink shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. She was pretending to get a glass of water, but I knew it was just an excuse. Kolby must've gone home tonight. Daphne heard me drive in and wanted to talk. She always wanted to talk, and I never had anything to say. I mean, now I did, but it wasn't very believable. "Where did you go?" she asked.

I attempted a smile. "I had to get diapers. I'm a new mom."

The moment Daphne saw the baby on the floor, she let out a squeal and plopped down next to the kid, smoothing back her fuzzy hair. The baby was like one of those Troll dolls. No one could resist the hair. "For how long?"

"I'm not sure, actually." Daphne looked concerned, the glass of water motionless in her hand. "There was an emergency," I tried to repair the damage my story had caused, but it wasn't working. "The mom's sick," I said. Daphne looked even more concerned and I knew I had to get rid of the suspense and fast. I always had to spoil the ending when we were watching an episode of the _Hot Club_ , too. "She'll be okay, the doctor said. Just a few days or so."

Her face relaxed. "I hope so. Poor baby. What did Mom and Dad say?"

"Uh . . . nothing yet."

She let out a giggle. "They won't be able to say no. She's adorable. What's her name?"

I hesitated. I was never good at twenty questions. "Baby." Daphne's face registered surprise. "We actually didn't get to that part," I admitted.

She choked on her glass of water, laughing again. "Only you would do something like that, Halley. Well, we have to call her something, huh, sweetie?" She gathered the baby from the floor, and instead of choosing a chair like any normal person would, she sat on the table instead. Giving the baby her biggest, googliest eyes, she set her on her lap to bounce her. The little girl shook the swirly toy at her, looking very grave. "How about Babs? It's short for baby, huh baby girl?"

"No, that's short for Barbara," I said.

"Is it?"

"I like it." Hobs sat next to them both. The table groaned under their combined weights. I watched the three nervously. Daphne took Babs' hands and played patty cake into the air. Hobs met Babs' hands gamely. "How about it, Babs?" he asked. "You want that to be your name?" She blinked up at him and tried to grab the medallion around his neck with her chubby fingers. My sister just smiled. Babies always stared off into space. I had no idea they could actually be looking at something.

Hobs tilted his head at the two girls. "Babs has your eyes."

What? My forehead wrinkled. _I had gray eyes._ "No, she doesn't. She has my sister's . . ." I said it without thinking, and Hobs chuckled when Daphne looked up at me. He had gotten me to _talk to myself_ again. Daphne watched me expectantly. "Babs," I tried to explain, "has your eyes."

Daphne leaned her forehead against the baby's, and the baby hit her on the shoulder with that crazy swirly toy. "Oh yeah, I see it," she humored me.

And that's when my shadow slipped away from me to get a closer look. I gawked, but I couldn't call out a warning as I watched it sneak up on Daphne. Nothing that would make any sense would come out of my mouth anyway, so I closed it firmly. I tensed and got ready to tackle my shadow. It peered over Daphne's shoulder, staring at Babs. No wonder Peter Pan had been so upset with his wandering shadow. Sure, it was just curious now, but what would happen if Daphne noticed it was moving? Or if it tried to attack?

I tried to follow it, completely reversing our roles to make my shadow look somewhat attached to me. When that failed, I pulled Babs from Daphne, trying to distract my sister. "She needs a diaper change." I closed the fridge door on my way out of the kitchen. "Stay out of the food," I growled low to Hobs.

Daphne stood up in a rush. "Hey Halley, I was wondering . . . uh, have you seen my purse?"

I held Babs close to me and gave the living room a quick scan as I walked through. Just like usual, everything was perfectly in place. The TV had been pushed out of sight, letting the fireplace take center stage. The only thing a tad unsightly was the weekly paper scattered across the couches. The wall was covered with the miniature clocks my mother had collected from Leavenworth a few cities away from us. I listened to the ticking sound, and gasped when I saw something from the corner of my eye. It was the last time I looked too closely at _anything_ in our house. Some weird slimy thing scurried across the grandfather clock, dragging Daphne's purse behind him. It looked like a rat man. I teetered backwards, screaming.

Daphne rushed over to me. "Oh, there it is. Thanks." She tugged her purse from the sinister looking creature. Its mouth and fangs blew up to abnormal size, and it hissed at her, but Daphne wasn't scrambling into the nearest corner to suck her thumb—the lucky girl couldn't see it. Rat man finally had to give up her purse. How frustrating to be beaten by such a sweet little thing.

"I was looking for that . . ." Her voice trailed off when she saw how scared I was. I tried to shrug it off and stepped closer to Hobs for protection, all the while forcing out my most casual smile. "What's the matter?" Daphne asked.

My mom came out from one of the back rooms in her checkered pajamas. "Halley?"

"Yeah," I said. "I thought I saw a . . . a . . ." _Monster?_ ". . . some sort of . . . pest." I glanced at Hobs.

"Gremlins," he said with a careless lift of his shoulders. "Your house is infested with them; that and brownies."

My sister looked revolted. "Oh, I hope not. What was it? A mouse?"

"Get used to it. You've got faery vision now," Hobs told me. "You can see everything." Another _gift_ from the faery queen.

"Halley," my mom said. "You still have the baby!"

I heard more grumbling from behind the couches and noticed my shadow take off to go check it out. I turned tail, rushing for my room before I became completely unglued.

"Wait," Daphne shouted after me. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine." I ran down the plush-carpeted hallway past my surprised dad, knocking the remote from his hand on his way to the living room. "Sorry, Dad!"

"Hi honey. Still in character, huh?" He patted his head where my tiara would be.

"Yes!"

His eyes went to the baby. Before he could ask me about her, I turned and saw my shadow chasing after me. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. I ripped open the door to escape it. Well, I tried to, but there were a lot of clothes in the way. They covered the ground like leaves in the fall. I kicked them free with some difficulty and managed to get the door shut. I listened to the creaks in the house—I hadn't been aware of them before. We were surrounded.

"I think you need to clean up in here . . . or rake or something." Hobs glanced around, gingerly lifting a plaid jacket off the ground with his foot. I hadn't seen him come into my room.

"What's the matter?" my dad asked through the door.

"Fine, fine, I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?"

I shook my head, watching my shadow skip across my dirty room. It knocked into my bead curtains over the window, then tripped over the pink fur rug. It really wasn't one for brains, was it? And yet it was a part of me; just this afternoon I had been tripping over those too. I took a deep breath. "Please tell me that's just my shadow," I whispered to Hobs.

He sat heavily on the end of my unmade bed. "It's a Fylgia, a sprite formed from your membrane."

I couldn't even pretend to know what he was saying. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's fine, just fine. Pretty hot, actually." He was mocking me.

"Are you alright, honey?" My mom jiggled the door handle.

Great, the whole family brigade was outside. "Just getting dressed," I sang.

"With me in here?" Hobs gave me an arch look. I shrugged. He took Babs from me and smiled brightly at her. "Scandalous."

I cast him an annoyed look. "They're a little protective. I was sick, um . . . when I was a kid, and they can't leave me alone. Even the twins think they have to take care of me."

"Were you cursed as a child?"

"No!" I remembered the hands, and shook my head. "I'm over it."

Dad wasn't through with me yet. "Why do you still have that baby from the play, honey?"

"I . . . I'm babysitting."

"Still? It's a little late for that, isn't it?"

I took the baby from Hobs and ripped open the door to see my concerned dad in the hallway. His eyes moved to the baby, and I gave him my most pleading expression. "Dad, it's a huge emergency. The parents are in the hospital. Nobody else can take care of her. I _have_ to take her overnight."

My dad looked at my mother. They let me get away with murder—that's what I was banking on. They wouldn't with Daphne, but then again she was normal, and they wanted so badly for me to be normal. I waited breathlessly for the verdict and tried to look motherly. Having a baby under my wing would only make me more human.

Just as I thought, my parents broke into a smile and nodded. Psychologists. They left, murmuring something about finding blankets for my new charge. I slammed the door shut again.

"Halley?" Daphne called through the door. Oops. She was still out there _and_ the most dogged of the bunch. "I just want to talk to you. It's been so long since we've done anything together."

Daphne just wanted an excuse to spend time with me. I shoved the baby at Hobs and slid down the flimsy door onto a pile of clothes. I put my hands over my ears the more she talked. I couldn't understand why this was affecting me so much. For some reason, I really wanted to have some girl time with her too. I heard loneliness in her voice that I never understood before, and now? It hurt really bad not to go to her. "Not right now," I said, "okay?"

I heard her shuffle away and felt a sense of loss, but I wasn't sure why. She had something she wanted to tell me, something important to her . . . and I actually cared. My hand went over my heart where the faery queen had touched me. I had to fix this. I got up and swiped all the junk off my chair so I could sit down at the computer. I needed to figure out where the faeries were and how to get the baby there . . . and hopefully break this curse they had over me. I couldn't take being normal anymore. It hurt too much. Pulling the year-old Post-it Notes from my screen, I brought up the Internet and typed in fairies with an _i_. I got more than a million links.

Hobs dragged a chair one-handed from my vanity to sit down next to my computer. He stared at me. Babs did too, and I had a hard time concentrating on the information on the computer screen. "Do you have a shard of ice in your heart? Is that what happened to you when you got sick?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Can you feel?"

I snorted. _More than ever._ I didn't want to admit that my heart had been virtually dead before this. Just who were these faeries anyway? And why did they have so much control over me? "The queen sent you to help me," I said, "so help me already. Why don't you tell me how to get this baby back home?"

"Wait three days. You heard the queen."

"I can't wait three days!" I skimmed through the sites like my life depended on it, which it did. Even now I could feel my eyes water over with exhaustion. Besides the threat of drowning with these new emotions that washed over me, I felt like I was swimming through heavy water . . . slower than a zombie. Or maybe more like a Banshee? A drowning mermaid?

Forget it.

"And you think an Internet search will tell you what you need to know? Such faith."

"Well, you won't tell me!" I clicked on the first site, and then to the next and the next. "I need to figure out how to get to the Otherworld—the sooner, the better. If you won't help me, then quit bugging me."

Hobs leaned his chin against Babs' bobble head. She shook her swirly toy at me. "Baby, this _is_ the Otherworld."

I refused to believe it, and skimmed through the pages, site after site: faeries were a race of the gods. I glanced over at Hobs. _Doubtful._ Babs dropped her swirly toy and tugged a stuffed yellow chick from a shelf, trying to gnaw on it. She must be teething. Hobs tugged it teasingly from her and played keep-away with it. She didn't participate, just watched. He threw the stuffed animal, then rolled it down his arm and bounced it off the faint stripes of his jeans like it was a Hacky Sack. _Yeah._ I checked the deity theory right off the list and read through some others.

After the defeat of the sons of Mil, the faeries escaped underground _or_ to a different dimension _or_ across the ocean to the west. _America?_ Well, I sure hoped so. That would make things a lot more convenient, since I wouldn't have to travel across the ocean to get these two back home. I only had three days to do it—talk about incentive. My gaze darted across the screen. The faeries called their land the Sidhe, pronounced _she_. _Or_ it was called Tuatha _or_ land of the young _or_ . . . I leaned my head back. "I'll never figure this out!"

Hobs grinned, and I uneasily ignored it. The more I learned, the more I realized how impossible it was to pinpoint where to find the faeries' domain. Everyone had a theory. Scandinavians, Celts, Germans. I had no doubt my newfound friends caused a ruckus everywhere they went. But I had nothing to go on, except rumors passed down from the ancients. It seemed the Celts had a pretty good superstitious handle on these things, which meant they probably had direct contact with faeries, but where were all their records? The stuffed chick hit me square in the face, and I swiveled on Hobs. "So what about you? Did someone curse you to be annoying?"

He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm not used to sitting and doing nothing."

Yeah? I stole the stuffed animal from him. The guy couldn't keep still. He was more a baby than Babs was. I turned back to the screen. What was the connection? Faeries seemed to have a need for babies _and_ women _and_ young lovers _and_ midwives . . . _and_ why? What was the appeal of humans? Namely happy ones? Did faeries suck blood or something? Or people's happy juice? Were they envious of our souls? I didn't buy any of it. They took humans as slaves? _Maybe._

I glanced back at Hobs, and with a start, caught him reading the site over my shoulder. His chin grazed against mine. "They got it wrong," he murmured at length. "Faeries could care less about humans." He turned a devilish look on me. "Unless they get in the way, of course."

"Then what am I doing here?"

He laughed. "Good question." He wasn't about to answer it either. I went back to the computer for a clue. Faeries needed nature and music and dancing and moonlight. How dumb. They needed to be appeased with offerings. Hobs snorted at that, and I pushed his face away from my shoulder, trying to concentrate. "They make us look really stupid, don't they?" he said. "Maybe it stops mortals from being afraid."

If that was the plan, it wasn't working. I was very afraid, especially when I read about the dangers of a faery touch. It disfigured. It maimed. My heart lurched at the gory Celtic paintings on my screen. _A faery hand over a human head caused madness, the hand over the heart caused sickness . . . and a kiss? Death._ The faery queen had really done a number on me. I rubbed at my eyes, resolved to never touch Hobs again. "The queen did everything to me that she shouldn't have done," I said.

Hobs didn't look concerned. "How else could she give you faery vision?"

"Well, for starters, she didn't have to kill me!" _Your days are numbered here._ The queen had even given me a time limit and then I was dead. _One, two, three the sun circles. Another world you'll see._ Three days and I was out of this world. My first day was almost gone. I had to figure this out before my time was up. "I have to break the curse," I whispered.

Hobs scooted even closer to me, warmth emanating from him. I tried to pull away and knocked my elbow against the wall behind me. The baby tugged the stuffed Peep off the desk and started to gum it to death. "You want to try?" Hobs asked.

"Try what?"

"To break the curse. It only takes a kiss." He looked at me like he wanted to go for it, and I scowled at him. His lips turned up and his eyes probed mine as if he were trying to figure me out.

I refused to move, knowing exactly what would happen if he tried to kiss me. I'd smack him a good one. I'd had enough of faery kisses. "Oh, no you don't. Kisses are deadly."

"Not all the time. I'd say the kiss of the faery queen brought you back to life."

"I _wasn't_ dead." My voice cracked when he gave me that smile of his, and I groaned. Of all the people to tug at my heart strings, he shouldn't be the one.

"You _were_ dead," he said, "in a matter of speaking."

The baby lost interest in the stuffed animal and grabbed at the chain around Hobs' neck. Maybe it would choke him; but of course, it didn't. He stuffed the toy back into Babs' hands to keep her busy, but it was too late. My attention had been drawn to the medallion. It looked like a charm or a talisman. Is that where he held his power? I was close enough to find out, and without asking, I tugged it my way so I could inspect it. He got into my personal space, I'd get into his. Only he didn't resist. I turned the medallion over in my hand. It was round and silver and still warm from his skin. There was writing engraved on it. It wasn't just warm—it was hot. I yelped and dropped it. "That burned me!"

He smirked wryly. "Try wearing it."

I swiveled back to my computer, typing _Hobs_ in the search engine and got _kitchen hobs_. My nose wrinkled. C'mon, who was he? After a moment of hesitation, I put in _Puck_. A huge number of complaints popped up. _Devil, Pan, imp, pagan trickster._ Hmmm, apparently Shakespeare wasn't the only who had trouble with him—the Germans and the Swedish couldn't stand him. I raised an eyebrow at him. "You get around," I turned back to read his online record, ". . . in more ways than one. You blow out candles and kiss girls in the darkness?" After reading that, I snickered, "Who would think it of you?" He didn't have the grace to flush, and I smiled, feeling tired. He was crazy like me. Was that why I liked him? Maybe there was something to say for the bad boys—as long as they weren't real.

"Yeah, but look what a good protector I am." He lifted his chin, indicating the screen. It was clear by his calm look that he didn't agree with anything that was written about him, though according to the latest site, he was a good faery to have around . . . when it suited him.

I didn't know what to believe anymore. I just wished I could find something more reliable than these foggy rumors lost in biased history. "If I could get hold of some old Irish manuscripts," I said. Of course, no matter how speedy the delivery, I'd be dead by the time it got here. Three days' time was nothing.

"What do the Irish have to do with this?" Hobs asked.

I felt like stomping my foot. "How else are we going to travel to . . . uh," _for lack of a better word,_ ". . . to faeryland?"

"Faeryland?" Just as I expected, he laughed. "That sounds as dumb as people-land. It's the Sidhe. Get it right. You're going to be spending a lot of time there." He plopped Babs on the floor with a blanket, and after reading the tabloid headlines about the suspected Skinwalker peeling off his face at a golf course, he chucked that aside. "Useless, but this . . ." He pulled out the faerytales he'd made me buy. "This is all about the _Cloan ny Moyrn_." His eyes sought mine. "Children of Pride," he explained. "Don't worry. It's just a euphemism. If I used the name of our real race, you'd invoke all the faeries down here at once. Then you'd see a real battle."

I sucked in my breath at the thought. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Ah, so you _do_ have a heart. Here ya go, _person_." He handed the book of faerytales to me, and I flipped through it, listening to him narrate. "These are the faery prophecies. The book of the ancients."

It was just a regular children's book: _Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White, Jack and the Beanstalk, Rumpelstiltskin_. I gave him a look of disbelief. He just shrugged. "A lot of these records get lost in translation, of course. The pagans liked to put their spin on everything: Easter Bunny, Christmas trees, Valentine's Day. Wow. Now _that_ used to be a day."

I had a hard time ignoring that. "So, this is essentially your people's history?"

"Not really. These are prophecies. Big bad wolves? Girls getting stuck in towers. Gold spinning faeries stealing firstborns? What if I told you that faerytales were real, they just haven't happened yet? And the happy endings? I'm sorry to tell you, but that's just wishful thinking."

It figured.

# Chapter Eight

The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences

of sorrow,

The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of

death to-morrow.

Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-

streams are falling;

O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk

are calling.

—Sarojini Naidu, _Village Song_

I settled Babs onto a pink and yellow fuzzy blanket at the foot of my bed. She stared up at me with that same trust in her eyes. "Don't worry, kid. You'll be okay." I took her plump little hand, and she wrapped it around my finger.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how I'd make good on my promise. According to the Internet, there were all sorts of protective charms to keep a baby safe from faeries, and whoever made them up happened to be sadistic: open scissors over the bed, a pin in the clothes, an iron nail under the cushions. A circle of fire. What had the charms against these baby stealing faeries really been before history got them all twisted? I had a feeling that these dangerous trinkets were only good as weapons against whoever tried to take her, not for luck. Still. If there was anything that kept _the hag_ at bay, I'd try it.

Speaking of names I couldn't say, things would've been a whole lot easier if Babs had a real one. Apparently a proper christening kept the baby safe . . . and a chain of daisies. I felt ridiculous, but I placed a chain of daisies Hobs had gathered fresh from my backyard over her head anyway. Her stubby fingers immediately got tangled in them.

Hobs' eyes widened in dismay and he pulled away from my computer, his bare feet stomping over the clothes on my floor. "What are you doing?" He peeled the daisies off her and chucked them. "You'll keep the faeries away."

"Well, apparently it didn't keep you away." I found myself staring at his sweats cut off at the knees. His legs were cut like a biker's, except he had some hairy legs. I tried not to laugh. It had only been a few hours. "Where do you get your clothes?"

"Magic. It really comes in handy, you should try it sometime." He pushed away my mountain of clothes and flattened on the ground next to us. He tickled Babs' soft cheek. "Just how were you expecting her to fall asleep if you keep the faeries away?" He met my eyes, but I had nothing to say. I was tired of worrying. Well, I guess I was just plain tired all around. He inspected my worn face and read my expression. "I'll watch her." He reached over to me, using his thumbs to rub away the black mascara from under my eyes, like he wanted to tease me, but his better judgment won out for once. He pulled back. "You can't go to sleep, can you?"

I shook my head. No matter how much I tried, it wouldn't work. It was ironic punishment. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, and I couldn't break this vigilant guard I had over Babs. I was her keeper, which meant I would die of exhaustion.

Hobs regarded me for a moment. "Is it like you have a pea in your bed?"

Despite my pain, I felt the sides of my lips tug up. "I'm a little old to be wetting the bed." He looked confused, having no idea what I was talking about. "You know, pee . . . it means, well, sometimes . . ." My jokes always got lost in translation, and apparently they didn't have the same slang in faeryland. Hobs just looked blank, and I threw my head back and laughed anyway.

He humored me with a chuckle and swept my room with a glance. "Where's your shadow?"

"It wandered off somewhere. I just hope it doesn't go too far."

Hobs tried to hide his worry. His worry—not the fact that he was hiding it from me—surprised me. "Well, at least your shadow seems to be doing alright."

He had a point. Babs was too quiet, and I found myself confiding in Hobs; something I wasn't used to doing with anyone, but I was freaking out here. I tugged his arm. "Something's wrong with Babs. Maybe she's sick too. I'm worried about her. Doesn't it take a while for changelings to adjust to the human world? Don't they get sick or something?"

"This one? No. She's been here before."

"What? How?"

Hobs bit his lip cryptically. "The trick is to switch the baby before the eyes change. And then when the eyes turn from blue to brown . . . no one knows the difference."

My own eyes narrowed. _I thought he said that faeries didn't care about taking humans?_ "So, whose baby is this really?"

"Not mine." By now I was used to his flippant responses. Babs' small fingers curled around the swirly toy and she sucked on the handle, giving me a close up of it. The snow was gone from the toy's face, and instead it mirrored the room. Wait, no, it didn't really. I sat up. It was another room, and there was a white wicker crib in it, a very grand one. A boy about three years of age with blond hair stood next to it in respectful silence. Hobs? It looked like him, but it would have to be years ago. And he looked so solemn.

I stole the toy from Babs. She watched me curiously. "It's how mirrors work," Hobs said. I jerked when I found him looking over my shoulder again. He dimpled, not pulling back, just staring into the mirror with me. "In the Sidhe, you see what you want to see in these. Just pick one up and the vision appears." He let out a self-conscious laugh. "I mean, a real vision, not uh . . . you. Anyway, in the Otherworld, when a faery gives you a fey stone like this, you see what they want you to see. It's pretty primitive, but it does the job."

"The faery queen wants me to see this?"

After a moment, he nodded. For some reason, he was nervous.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I sat down on the end of the bed to focus on the toy. What was she trying to tell me? Unlike the mirror in the dressing room, I was watching a picture, instead of it watching me, which made me feel better about it. Through the screen, the faery queen swept past the cradle in her light of blue and silver robes. Onagh was as lovely as I remembered. She leaned over the wicker basket. The baby's fat fingers swatted over the cradle and caught hold of the faery's shimmering, platinum hair.

My bare toes curled into the ragged carpet beneath me. If that kid standing next to her was Hobs, then why was Babs still a baby? Hobs hadn't been exaggerating. Babs _really_ didn't grow. Was she really seventeen like me?

Babs held her mother's hair adoringly. The love in her shadowed eyes made me want to cry. The real Babs' eyes held more sadness now. The faery queen sprinkled sparkly dust over her daughter, all the while bestowing on her an enchantment:

"With nurture and care, she blesses the Sidhe. Her name's good fortune, she's winsome and free. Beloved of mortals, her light sparkles and shines. She rules with love through the ravage of time."

The faces on the swirly toy dulled at Onagh's words until I saw my own image reflected back through the mirror. "No wonder everyone wants her," I said under my breath. According to this record, Babs was meant to rule the land of the faeries, maybe over the mortals, too. I turned to the baby and shrieked when I saw rodents crawling all over her. Before I could stomp them into the ground, I got a better look. Wait, not rodents—tiny little faeries. There were about a dozen of them, and they were quite busy.

Hobs leaned back, watching the scene enfold with a content look. "They're just silkies. They're putting our baby to sleep."

My eyes darted back and forth between the strange things. They were beautiful creatures, but I didn't trust them. And I wouldn't hesitate to smash them like bugs if they stepped out of line. They seemed completely unaware of the danger. I took a shaky breath. "Is this a baby shower or a cradle robbery?"

"Relax. This is usual night time procedure for babies." Hobs stood up and draped an arm around me so he could lead me over. "Let me introduce you. The one in the little blue dress is Dormette. She gives the children pleasant dreams." Dormette glanced over at us and gave a delicate curtsy. She looked like a miniature French maid. "Ole Luk Oj blows dust into their eyes and necks to make babies fall asleep." A crotchety old faery leaned heavily on a walking stick, gathering the dust from the air in his wrinkled palms. It would take him a long time to get down to business. He was an old one. "And Nanny Buttoncap tucks them into their beds." Nanny Buttoncap was exactly how I imagined a British nanny to look, mobcap and all, though ten times smaller. She fretted over Babs, cooing and tucking. I was fascinated, and a little creeped out. "And then there's Lull. She lulls babies to sleep."

Lull danced around the little faery princess. Babs tried to grab for her, most likely to suck on her, but Lull spun expertly away. Her brown faery skirts brushed against Babs' cheek. The baby smiled in response, squinting. I relaxed. Well, if Babs liked them, I suppose I could put up with these hyperactive action figures. Smiles on her were rare.

"Bean Tigh!" Hobs shot forward.

An elderly woman had walked into the room. She was human size, but Hobs looked genuinely happy to see her. Her rosy cheeks were dimpled, and she looked like a female version of Santa Claus. She closed my window with highly capable hands. The beads on my curtain shifted slightly as if caught by a sudden wind. The woman winked at me. "Won't do to have a draft, dearie." She straightened Babs' blanket with small, wrinkled fingers. Nanny Buttoncap looked affronted next to her, and I relaxed. It was like watching dolls at play. The firefly sized faeries sang lullabies over Babs, barely a buzz, but still comforting. Babs' eyes closed.

If only the spell worked on me.

Hobs straightened, looking as guilty as sin. I lifted my head to see a tall woman stalk into the room. She ducked under the doorjamb, her head crooked at an awkward angle. "Muma helps lost children get back to their parents," he said in a rush. "I didn't expect her to come."

"Oh, so we should've kept the daisies on Babs?" I angrily reached for them, but Hobs' hands were on my arm, preventing me from making any fast moves. Muma's eyes narrowed. She was stout as she was tall, and all of it was muscle. "She's not taking Babs back to anybody unless I see where she's going." I didn't bother to lower my voice. "I'm her keeper. I don't care if this lady tries to stomp me into the ground for it."

"Muma, honey, what an unexpected surprise." Hobs was already doing his fast talking. He pushed from me and guided the giant away. Her plain skirts rustled behind her. "What are you doing here?" _As if he didn't know!_

"Where have you been hiding her, Hobs?" The woman's voice was like thunder. I winced and forced myself to stand my ground. "This one's been gone a long time."

"Now, Muma." He tried to defend himself like some schoolboy with a strict teacher. I wondered how many altercations he'd had with her over stolen babies. It looked like he'd had plenty of practice. "It wasn't me."

While they squabbled, the mirror on the swirly toy shifted into a cloudy picture. I gaped at the scene unraveling through it. Cackling laughter assaulted my ears, the same laughter that came from the hag in the theater. Since it was in Babs' toy, it was like watching the history channel; almost as safe as a documentary . . . well, a _little_ _less_ safe considering the circumstances.

Hobs stepped in front of me, trying to shield me from Muma's view.

"Get out of my way." Muma shoved him away to stare at the toy herself.

Hobs forced his way back in again and argued with her. "Muma, we have orders from the queen of the Seelie Courts. Everything is fine."

"Oh, do you? _You_?"

The toy was alive with drama. Porcelain white arms clasped a baby close. One glimpse of the fuzzy hair and I knew the baby was Babs. I turned to her lying on her back on the pink blanket. She was still here, yet the image was so real. The real girl watched me somberly with half-closed eyes. After a moment, I broke away and went back to the toy. This must've been when Babs had been stolen from her mother. The menacing form held tightly to the sobbing baby as they flew above the rooftops. I listened to the hag's angry curse, and winced under it.

"Unless you love, you cannot rule? Then you must live among these fools. T'will sow distrust, the fear of loss. So bind your heart or face the cost. You cannot love for if you do, the love of mortals fades from view."

"No!" I shouted. I stood up, rattling the toy. I knew those hands. They had come for me too. For some reason the hag wanted both of us. Hobs and Muma stopped arguing to stare. My fear for Babs made me aggressive. I couldn't allow what the hag had done to me to happen to this baby. "She cannot love!" I swung around to Hobs. "Did you hear this? Our baby can't love!"

Hobs gave the toy a cursory glance then shrugged. "Of course she can. Just ignore it." He continued arguing with Muma. "I have it under control. This isn't . . ."

"She cannot love or she won't be loved? That's the curse, Hobs! Why don't you care about this at all?"

"What?" The words seemed to sink in and he gripped my arm. "She can't love? _At all?_ No one told me about that!" Hobs ripped the toy out of my hand and shook it roughly until the scene came back so he could peruse it for himself. "Oh," he said in some relief. "It just concerns mortals. What do we care?"

_I heard that faeries were selfish, but what a jerk!_ "She can't love me. I'm a mortal. You idiot!" I didn't like this at all. Muma shot Hobs a disapproving look and he actually colored under it. "She will rule only when she loves?" I tried to work out the hag's curse. "But she will never love . . . or she loses everything? Oh no, poor Babs!"

Was that why she seemed so serious? Her heart had been bound? I kneeled next to her, brushing the silkies away. They cried out irritably, but I didn't care. All I cared about was her, and it made no sense, considering who I was. The hag had called me a Child of Darkness. Why would the hag seek out a cold creature like me? I knew her hands. The hag had set me up from birth. Faerytales were prophecies. I was the keeper. I had no idea what that meant, but the hag must've known our paths would cross with this kid's and she wanted me to hurt her. I was the one who would teach Babs that love wasn't to be trusted.

Babs blinked up at me. I felt like crying, especially since she had no idea how bad I was for her. Sure, the faery queen had jumpstarted my heart so I wouldn't hurt her baby, but if Babs loved, the love of mortals would fade from view. Didn't Onagh know that if her baby loved me, the curse would destroy her child? My love wasn't enough, would never be enough. There had to be a way to break our little girl's curse.

I landed on my knees next to Babs and scooped her up, holding her close. "Oh, honey." I patted her soft back. "I won't let this happen to you. I won't. I'll get you out of this mess." Babs' little fist broke under my arm and she patted my back in return, as if she were comforting me instead.

"She won't lose _everything_." Hobs sighed, probably wondering how much to tell me. I gave him a look that told him he'd better spill his guts. "You're the one meant to be with her." He knelt next to me, his broad shoulder brushing against mine. "It's not like you're helping her because you care about her, right?" I was silent, wondering if that was true anymore. "You have to help her because of that thing on your head. So _love_?" He laughed. "We don't have to worry about love. There's nothing to get upset about."

I bit down, trying to think. It was hard, considering how emotional I was getting lately. Hobs was right. It was probably this crown on my head that made me care so much. It made me do strange things. _Was I really worried that I would hurt Babs?_ I tried to evaluate this. _Not worried, exactly._ Babs and I had the same heart disorder, that's all. Babs blinked up at me with that perpetual faith in her eyes. I didn't deserve it.

"Maybe I shouldn't have her." It hurt to say. "I think this curse is talking about me. I won't be good for her." It had been painful when Hobs had wheeled her down another aisle in a grocery cart. I couldn't imagine the torture I would go through once she was really gone, but if this Muma really returned babies to parents, it was for the best.

I felt Hobs' hands on my shoulder and he squeezed. "Then it's a good thing you won't have her for that long." I knew he was working the only thing that moved me: logic, except I didn't have much of that anymore. "It's just an extra reason to get rid of her, right? Give her to her people, so she won't be hurt by some human?"

What if I was that human?

Hobs smoothed out the trail of goose bumps over my arms until he found Babs' little hands too. He played with her fingers, then pulled away to reassure me with his eyes. "Let's figure out how to get her to her mom, alright? We'll do it together. We'll keep her safe."

I knew how. Give her to Muma. I turned, but the lady was already gone. Hobs worried his lower lip. "She knows the babe's in good hands now," he said. "None of us have a choice. We have to go through with this. It's the only way to break the curse." It was like he was trying to justify it to himself. "We can't do it any other way."

I pressed my face into his chest, holding Babs between us. "Okay."

I felt his arms stiffen.

Three horrid crones materialized inside my room. Hobs tried to stop me, but I was out of his hands faster than he could. Was this what he had been implying? He meant to work with these sorts of lowlifes because he thought he had no choice? The silkies had either been beautiful or kind, but these were neither. I had studied enough folklore to recognize the three sisters of fate.

"What are they doing here?" I asked. "This can't be the usual procedure for babies."

"Relax. It's Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld!"

The crones stretched out their terrible fingers, their knobby knuckles knocking together as they pointed me out. Their eyes were sinister. " _Cost cost. Thief, you shall feel the cost. Reclaim. Redeem. Restore all that was lost. Lost, lost."_

Hobs gave me a weak smile. "They always say that, ever since they lost their spindle."

"Well, tell them we don't have it!" I tried to back away, but Hobs put an iron grip on me. I knew he had every intention of forcing me to meet up with them. "What are you doing?" I couldn't get free. "Let me go! The last thing Babs needs is another curse." I elbowed him hard, but his clenched jaw was the only indication that I hurt him.

"They don't do curses," he said tightly. "They're Norn, the guardians of fate. And they only see the future if it's happened before."

That didn't make sense until I remembered the faerytale prophecies. "Well, I don't like it. Get them away from us. Please!"

But the crones only came closer. Hobs held Babs and me captive. I groaned, seeing a gnarled hand snake to our baby's smooth forehead. The old woman touched a yellowed fingernail against her skin and wrote with invisible letters. _"Sweet,"_ she croaked. _"Stolen from a happy home. The Queen of Hearts, you shall be known."_ Her white hair yellowed as she spoke, and her pale skin smoothed out until she stepped away from us, now a beautiful young woman. I couldn't unclench my hands. They made little fists under poor Babs' back. I refused to let her go.

The second Fate trailed bony fingers across Babs' weary face. _"In time, you'll brave the winter storm. Take courage. Grow to your new form."_ Fire crackled from the Norn's scalp and whipped around her shoulders in a sheet of vibrant red hair, her skin coppery and golden. She smiled gently as the third Norn took her turn with Babs.

"Your heart is strong. Your smile doth nurse. The kiss of mortals breaks the curse."

Despite being freaked out of my mind, I couldn't miss what they were saying. _The kiss of mortals breaks the curse?_ I was a mortal. All it would take was a kiss? By now I watched to see how the next crone would transform. A dark-skinned beauty touched Babs on the lips with delicate fingers—a far cry from the gnarled ones she had sported seconds earlier. With a black-eyed glance at me, she wrenched Babs from my arms with hardly any effort at all. I growled out as, instead of a gaggle of crones, Babs was now surrounded by serene guardian angels. Their hair was way too big. Not like I was jealous.

After fussing and singing over the little baby, they laid her on the soft pink blanket. The girls gave Hobs a brisk nod, then vanished. As soon as they did, I shrugged him away from me, too angry to speak. He let me go, and I hurried to Babs' side, kneeling. I would smother her with kisses if that's what it took to break this curse, but before I could, I hesitated. What was the usual procedure? I leaned over Babs and kissed her on the cheek. A little coldly, but old habits were hard to break. I gave Hobs a sidelong glance. "You think that did it?"

He hid a smile. "Yeah, probably."

_That meant no._ I felt helpless. Compared to everything I was fighting, I had no power whatsoever. I couldn't stop any of this because my heart wasn't working . . . not fully. And yet I was her protector. She depended on me. I rested my tired head against the cluttered ground next to hers. "It's going to be okay." I tried to give her a smile, but it came out a little weak. My own comfort felt hollow at best.

Babs startled me with a gummy grin. My head tilted to the side, so that her fingers barely missed slapping the star twinkling over my forehead. I couldn't believe it. I got her to smile. My own turned more genuine. "Do you like that?" I asked. She didn't answer, but wrapped her fingers around the crown in my hair. Luckily she didn't tug. I patted her back awkwardly. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," I really couldn't hold a note, but I tried to lull her to sleep with it anyway. "How I wonder what you are."

I didn't really know the words, but I watched her eyelids lower when sleep finally overtook her. She still had a firm grip on my hair. What the silkies couldn't do, I did. I twisted to Hobs, feeling the rough carpet against my face. He sat on the edge of my bed, studying me like I was a fascinating science experiment. Once our gazes caught, he knelt at my side. "What is _wrong_ with you?" he asked.

I laughed, but I felt a sadness I didn't know was possible until tonight. Everything inside me was too hard to control. "You try not to be so emotional when you haven't gotten any sleep and you've never felt . . . you've never felt . . ." I sighed. "Remember the first time you touched me?"

He nodded, his lashes hiding the expression in his eyes, but I could tell he was worried.

"This hurts worse," I said. "My heart? I don't know how much it will take. I'm not used to feeling things, Hobs. I . . . I've got to get us back faster than three days, or I'm dead. I swear this will kill me."

He set his jaw, and the warmth of his hand lingered over mine even after he left the room.

# Chapter Nine

Dare you haunt our hallow'd green?

None but fairies here are seen

Down and sleep,

Wake and weep,

Pinch him black, and pinch him blue

—Thomas Ravenscroft, _The Fairies' Danced_

Faerytales. It was the bible of the faeries. Tales of stolen babies, witches, crown wars. This stuff was all real. I picked up the heavy book from the park bench and turned it over in my hands. I had stuffed all the scraps of Internet information I could in between the pages of the book, and it bulged with useless facts—it was amazing how much time I had when I didn't sleep at night.

The big buckles on my white canvas ballet flats jingled as I walked through the park. The sunburned blades of grass spread out like Troll hair. Speaking of, I glanced over at Babs. She had grown overnight . . . I mean, she had _literally_ grown overnight. She looked like a two-year-old. The girl had hair now, lots of it—like a little Rapunzel.

Hobs had put the quickly growing fuzz into two spiked devil horns on her head, dashing any romantic notions I had for either of them. Not that I should have _any_ for him. He stepped over the cracks in the cement, his hand over hers, looking relaxed in his gray pinstriped shorts. He drank me in with a leisurely look. The calm act didn't trick me. He hadn't slept last night either. My cry of distress that I was going to die had thrown him into a flurry of activity. He seemed to be on a mission now too. The problem was that it wasn't mine.

That morning I had caught him typing with two fingers into the Internet search engine: _guy peels off his face at golf course._ I didn't get it. He had ripped that off the tabloid he called useless. I was looking for a way back to Babs' home, and he was looking for a Skinwalker. I didn't see how they were connected. Hobs must've figured out how to wipe the history on my computer, because after my brief glimpse over his shoulder, he cleared the screen with a snap of his fingers.

After that, there was no getting out of him what his plans were. He just watched me in that superior way of his and teased me until I couldn't take anymore. I found myself announcing our outing to the park out of sheer desperation. I had to get out of the house. Now, if I could just get us to faeryland or to the Sidhe. Wherever. I had a whole stack of information on how to do it, though it had better not be as unreliable as the safety precautions against faeries. Faeries liked the woods. And yeah, our town was covered in firs and evergreens, but the Civic League Park was the closest thing to my house that resembled "the woods." Somewhere in this park, I hoped to find an entrance to the faeries' world. Then I would force it open and return Babs before I proved her undoing.

Babs toddled next to Hobs, and he slowed his stride to match hers. Her bare feet pressed into the hard, dead grass. She tripped on the hem of the overgrown shirt I had tugged over her head that morning. Hobs scooped her up from the sidewalk in one motion and spun her around. His leather flip flops slapped to the rhythm of their makeshift happy dance.

"What are you doing? You want the world to think she's a flying two-year-old?" I eased Babs away from him and set her on her feet. She had picked up on that walking thing fast. A few hours, actually. After making sure no one had seen her hovering act, I smiled fondly at her. This was the next faerytale on the books, but who were we? I still couldn't figure out whether I was the evil witch or the faery godmother.

Hobs eyed my arm warmers with distaste—they were striped, bright, and completely inappropriate. "Socks on your arms? You're _hot_ enough without those things." I tugged my arm warmers up defensively. I liked to be different, especially since I was a brown wren in a world of peacocks; and since I was on the subject of animal analogies, Hobs looked like a sleek jaguar, ready to pounce on anything that moved—he was that jittery. And I found myself hopelessly attracted. I groaned. My emotions were pretty bad lately—they were worse than yesterday. I had to either reel them in or murder them brutally before I did something really, _really_ stupid.

We made our way past an old hippy couple. They held hands. Besides a few dogs and joggers, the park was pretty much deserted. "Wow," Hobs said. "This town is a moving metropolis." He said it right in front of the hippy couple, and I sucked in sharply before I remembered that no one else could hear how rude he was.

As soon as the couple was out of earshot, I made a fist. "Stop being sarcastic!"

I should've known that was exactly the reaction Hobs wanted. He smiled in response. I set a patchwork quilt down onto the grass, and he plopped onto it next to my shadow. Being high noon, my shadow was only a sliver, but I gave her a stern glare anyway. She had better stop flirting with Hobs--she was making me look bad--but she ignored me and sidled next to him anyway. He was still talking. "The alternate dimension to this place is like New York for the faeries. Ever since we moved west . . ."

I didn't want to know. He spoke in riddles anyway. I picked up my list of faery terms, reading through them. The first thing to remember (as Hobs rudely pointed out) was that faeries lived in a parallel realm . . . in raths and cairns. I read that through a couple of times, but to be honest I didn't even know what a rath and a cairn were.

I sighed, and Babs sighed heavily in return. I put a hand on the hips of my brick-red shorts, squinting back at the list. When the faeries were defeated by the sons of Mil, they took refuge under a place called the Sidhe, pronounced _she_ (I reminded myself); it meant faery mounds. I glanced over at Hobs. "So now you live underground? I suppose you're going to blame us for chasing you there, us big bad earth haters with our pollution and scientific ways and all that."

"Something like that." Hobs crossed one bony ankle over the other. "Ever heard of Edison? Word is he'd capture faeries and make them give him the secrets of nature. He found a Dryad and made it talk, nasty little thing—still, nothing deserves that. That's how the guy figured out the light bulb." I frowned, not sure if Hobs was still teasing me. "Some of us only bother to live underground on this side of the realm, anyway. We mingle with humans when absolutely necessary. The evil witch isn't the only one who's a threat to Babs."

"So, um, how did Edison catch a faery exactly?"

His face got hard. "Why don't you look in the faerytales?"

I had, and they weren't telling me anything. There were disjointed clues, sure, but I'd have to pull an Edison and catch a faery for any real answers. I glowered at Hobs—I meant a useful faery. Maybe then I could at least wish my way to the other side. Other tales of escape involved Jack and his magic beans. He had climbed into another kingdom with those. So how did I score some of those?

"Everyone wants a piece of the power from the faery treasure," Hobs said. "Some are more successful than others." He was giving me free information. I tried to act casual so he wouldn't realize it, so I froze. No, freezing was not casual!

I rolled my eyes and went for it. "What do you mean by faery treasure, Hobs?"

"Faeries are the holders of the treasures." He punched his finger into the patterns of the blanket, once again shielding his expression from me. "It's what gives us our power. There are those in the Otherworld who want that power, mortals who make deals with faeries for their secrets. Some of these mortals are cursed. Others just greedy. Our rulers, the Twelve—well, they don't make a habit of getting involved with the petty skirmishes of the courts, but they banished the traitors who worked with these mortals from our world to this one after . . . some complications. These dark Fae are still here, creeping around, causing trouble, spilling secrets. Cursed mortals have already stolen more from the Fae than can ever be replaced, and if they learn to use what they've stolen? They'll destroy everything in our world. Oh, and maybe your world, too."

I took a deep breath, playing with the ends of my dark hair. All I wanted was to return the kid so I didn't have to be involved. I'd mess up everything way more than it was now. My hands went back to my hips, and I tried to forget it. "Okay."

"Okay," Babs echoed.

I looked down at her piggy-tailed head; she stood tall, looking very self-important with her hands on her hips. Is that how she thought I looked? The little two-year-old copied everything I was doing. I dropped my own hands and chuckled wearily. Why did she even like me, especially in my sleep-deprived condition? If I continued like this, I would fall over. How could I help Babs after that? I scrubbed my tired eyes. If Hobs was warning me about something, I had better listen. "Does this have to do with that Skinwalker from the tabloids?"

Hobs' tan elbows dug into the blanket. "Skinwalker?"

He wasn't fooling me. I sat next to him on the blanket. My shadow scooted back with an angry flip of her hair. "The one you were Googling this morning, you hacker. You think he's one of those treasure chasers, don't you?"

"Just doing my homework. He took his face off in a golf course in Okanogan. That's only thirty minutes away. I had to make sure it didn't have anything to do with us."

"Did it?"

"Just more tabloid rubbish, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't keep the two of you alive, so you're welcome."

"Yeah, thanks."

He looked pained and swiped a hand across his ears as if trying to wipe away the gratitude. What was his problem, anyway? He took a deep breath, and his eyes betrayed his concern. It was touching and completely unexpected. "Believe it or not, our princess is a pretty big deal to us. We want to keep her safe."

My heart sank, and I allowed myself a self-deprecating snort. It was Babs he was worried about, not me. And why should I care? If this was what normal felt like, I hated it. My eyes burned, and I closed them against the sun. "Yeah yeah, I'm in that play tomorrow, and if I don't get better? Well, I just _have_ to get better. I've got to get both of you out of here ASAP."

"You're worried about a play?"

I matched his narrowed look with one of my own. No. I was just as worried about his precious princess as he was, but talking about it only made me scared for her. Babs' big hazel eyes took in everything. After a moment, she noticed we were both talking about her. She tried to distract us by pointing to a tree, all the while babbling incoherently.

My hand found her hair. Babs was a beautiful baby, so beautiful she'd fit in with the other swans in my family. No one would be the wiser that she wasn't one of ours. If I hadn't been cursed, I'd bag this whole going to faeryland idea and adopt the poor kid. And now I was thinking crazy.

Hobs pulled himself to his knees and took Babs' hands. His playful eyes crinkled up at the sides, giving him that impish look. "Head butt," he said. Her bobble head came crashing down on his like a spirited goat.

"Knock it off with the head-butts!" I heaved myself up from the blanket and confiscated the little two-year-old from Hobs to hide her in my arms. I grunted at her weight. The kid was getting heavy. "It's dangerous!"

Hobs rubbed his sore head. "What are you worried about? Babs is a big girl now. She's potty-trained. Aren't you? Hip hip . . ."

"Huway!" She grunted free from me and pushed her chubby fist up into the air.

Hobs was teaching her to get on every nerve I had, like some proud and demented father. "Hip hip . . ." he said.

"Huway!"

These two were on the same wavelength. Babs charged Hobs, trying to wrestle him down, her soft arms finding his neck and tugging him against the blanket. My head ached with their shouts of laughter. And everyone thought I was cranky when I actually got sleep?

"If you knew she was going to grow up so fast, why did you make me buy all those diapers?" I sounded too stern, and Babs covered her face to hide from me.

Uh-oh.

I knelt next to her, not sure what to do. Her lips looked like a duck beak and she wouldn't move her hands from her eyes. I hugged her stiff little body. "Hey, it's okay, honey. Hey, look at me, huh? Cutie? I wasn't yelling at _you_."

Hobs leaned his head back in exasperation, then gallantly came to my rescue. "Where's Babs? Where'd she go?" The beaked lips tipped reluctantly up. "Where did she go?" She uncovered her face to peer out. "Oh, there she is. There's my beautiful baby." Babs was happier, but it wasn't enough for Hobs. He covered her eyes this time. "Where's Babs?" He kept going until she was giggling just like a little girl should. I found myself smiling at him, too. Hobgoblins were a dangerous thing for babies. Babies liked danger, just like women. I tried to stop smiling and failed miserably. I was a terrible mother. I had to do something right.

I tugged out the book of faerytales and skimmed through the loose papers I had printed out that morning. After a quick read-through, it became painfully clear we should've done this stuff last night. Faeries generally came out during a full moon, twilight or midnight when the veils between our two worlds were the thinnest. If faeries could leave the Sidhe, we could get in. I just needed to figure out the whos, whats, whens and wheres _._ I blew my hair from my eyes, turning away from the book. "A faeryland break-in is going to be tougher than I thought."

Hobs grew guarded at that, and I knew what he was thinking. Yeah, wait the full three days. No way! If he felt a tenth of what I was going through, he would move the world to get us out of here.

"We have the time of the year right," I said in my slurring voice. "Midsummer Eve is when the fairies are at their merriest. It might be just enough of a distraction to slip past whatever guards they set up against us. We have to be out of here by tomorrow night."—Or, according to the curse, I was a goner. "But faeries are the most powerful on Fridays. And there's no telling what the ones who are after us will do by then." I needed to find a faery trail out of here. "What kind of tree is this?" I pointed to the same tree Babs had tried to distract us with earlier. Hobs shrugged. I knew he was hiding something because of the calm front. I pushed off the quilt to find my shaky feet. "C'mon, what kind of faery are you?" I asked. "Aren't you supposed to know nature and stuff?"

"I'm _not_ a wood nymph."

He dragged me back onto the quilt next to him, and I cried out in surprise. "Hobs, let me check out that tree!"

"In a second. Do you know that guy staring at you?"

I tried to look, and Hobs stopped me with a shake of his head. "No. Gaze into my eyes like I'm the most attractive man you've ever seen."

"How's that supposed to help me?"

He laughed. "It won't, but it's a lot more fun."

I turned in exasperation to see who he was talking about, and caught some guy watching me. He was the one who played Puck in the _Midsummer_ play. He wore dark shades, definitely the coolest cat in our high school. He sat texting on one of the park benches, wearing his signature red hood. There were loose papers spread over an open book next to him. It couldn't be homework—we were on summer break. He turned his dark head away like he didn't notice me, but I could tell he was very aware.

After a moment of searching the murkiest depths of my mind, I came up with his name. "Ren. It's just Ren. Don't worry. He's not a threat, just a boy from my high school."

"—who's madly in love with you. You think he's jealous of us?"

"No, he thinks I'm crazy because he can't see you and it looks like I'm wrestling with myself, and now I'm talking to myself." Hobs didn't look convinced, and I ducked away to keep him from touching me again. Ren still kept an eye on me from his bench, and I pretended I had been talking to the toddler instead, which was a little less insane than talking to the air. "We need a birch tree or a willow or something." I stood up and circled the tree to the side of us, not really sure what sort it was, but I searched for a knothole anyway. According to my research, if you looked into one, something was supposed to happen. I found one—sap dripped from the nasty hole, and I leaned against the tree to get a better look at the hollow darkness inside.

"What's the matter with you?"

I jumped back. Little green men inside the tree hollow shook their fists at me. They sat at a crooked table inside—or was that a mushroom? They looked quite settled in their miniature home furnished with nature. It was pretty cute actually.

"Get out of here!" the smallest one shouted. He was grumpier than I was. "A little privacy, if you please!"

I backed away and Hobs patted me on the back. I jerked away as soon as I saw his pleased expression. Alice never had it this bad going into Wonderland. Of course, once she got in, her story was entirely different from ours, I hoped. "I found the Sidhe," I said, though it would be like elbowing past weasels to get to it.

"And just how are you going to fit into that little hole?" I could tell Hobs was enjoying my incompetence, but just the fact that the Sidhe existed, even if I couldn't get to it, made me forget to be mad at him. There had to be another way. Streams and wells were supposedly gateways to the Otherworld, or . . .

I breathed in deeply, seeing there were lots of people in this park. I had a plan, but this was going to be embarrassing. Ren sat on a bench, pretending to text, though I could tell he saw everything behind his dark shades. I didn't blame him—I was putting on a pretty good show. I was about to make a bigger fool of myself and there was nothing for it. Pretending to touch my toes as if stretching for a run, I lowered my head and stared at the world between my knees. Like the Internet suggested, it was the only way to truly see the portal to the Sidhe. Some guy almost fell off his skateboard when I met his eyes, but I wasn't looking at him or the hippies, though now they were giving _me_ the look. I stared past them, and found the faery ring. It was a dark ring of grass against the yellowed lawn. No one would notice it was there if they weren't looking. I popped back up, my face red. "Got it." Without waiting for Hobs, I raced to get to it, my dark hair flying behind me.

"You sure you want to get caught in that?" Hobs asked in a much-too-careless voice. I should've known that meant trouble. I recalled all the usual dangers of faery rings, but being forced to dance for a hundred years was nothing compared to this sluggish exhaustion. It was probably a rumor started by faeries to discourage humans from trying to pop into their world unannounced—I saw right through it. The sound of Hobs' flip flops quickened into a sprint behind me. I glanced back, and saw him kick them off.

I dove into the faery ring, putting my hands against the darker grass, but nothing happened. The Sidhe wasn't visible to my waking senses yet. I sat down in the center, noticing that Hobs had stopped short of the ring. Babs tried to follow me in and he tugged her back with one hand. Even my shadow seemed mesmerized by my behavior. None of them were willing to go in.

I tried to relax, knowing I needed to get into a meditative state. But how? I closed my eyes, folding my legs like pretzels. The only thing that came to mind was to make up a monk-like chant. After a few bars of out-of-tune singing, my eyes slanted open. Hobs stood frozen in front of me like he didn't know what to do. I looked past him, not sure what I wanted to find. A mirage? A rainbow? With my luck, if I caught sight of it, I'd chase it forever and reach nothing. I forced myself to stay focused, and closed my eyes again. I heard a ringing in my ears and tensed. That was the wrong sound. I knew who it came from. A cackle that grew louder. It was the sound of the hag. And _she_ was coming.

"Get out of there!" Hobs no longer pretended to be calm.

I tried to fight my way free from the sound, but I couldn't move. I tried to wrench my eyes open, but they were stuck. Nothing would budge me from this spot. My mouth opened, but I couldn't shout for help. I felt her coming for me, her fingers reaching like they had when I was too young to defend myself. They were so horribly familiar, the pale arms from Babs' swirly toy.

Hobs' arms were around my waist, and he tugged me back. He was surprisingly forceful, and I opened my eyes, seeing that we were far away from the ring and still scrambling away from it. "We've got to get you out of here," he choked out.

Why? Had he heard it too? My eyes went back to the faery ring. Those things were more dangerous than I thought.

"It's too late." Hobs threw his head back in disgust. "She knows we're here." He turned to the empty park bench. Ren was gone. "Where did your boyfriend go?" he asked. Everyone was watching us by now, and laughing at us too, but I didn't care. A hideous black dog the size of a horse crept around the tree with the knothole in it, staring at us with strange blue eyes.

"A Barguest," Hobs muttered.

"A bar . . . what?"

"They guard treasure. It means trouble. Let's get out of here."

I grabbed Babs' tiny wrist and threw the little girl onto my hip, holding her tightly in my arms. Hobs' hand was on my back. We left the park as quickly as we could. My shadow lagged too far behind me to be believable. If anyone was paying attention, they'd know something was wrong. I felt a shudder run through me, and cast a furtive glance over my shoulder. The beast had disappeared.

# Chapter Ten

Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more,

Banshee of the world—no more!

The sorrows are the world's, thou art no more alone;

Thy wrongs, the world's.

—John Todhunter, _The Banshee_

Things were getting out of hand. My shadow was turning into me. Well, at least I thought she was. She was no longer in black and white; she was in color. And she was wearing my clothes—my most preppy ones that I never touched.

I blinked, feeling the dull ache behind my eyes. I really didn't understand how the faery queen thought I was supposed to protect her child if she cursed me with this exhaustion. It was the night of the second day and _still_ no sleep. And tomorrow? Death waited for me unless I took advantage of the night. According to my notes, it was the best time to get to the Sidhe.

After coming home from the park, I had thrown on my black sweats and T-shirt and fallen into my bed, enduring this sleepless fatigue as best as I could while I waited for the night to come. Now the moon shone brightly behind the pink curtains at my window, a gentle reminder that my time was up. I forced my weak legs off my bed and pushed myself to my feet.

Babs blew into Hobs' face, and he blew back even harder. She squinted, the stray wisps of her growing hair flying around her pigtails. She had to be about two and a half years old now. Her skin still had that baby look to it. She puffed another gust of air at Hobs, her cute lips forming an O until they were engaged in a full-blown war. I left them on the floor with my shadow and trudged past them into the bathroom to get something for my headache.

My toes sank into the pink shag rug next to the sink. There was only a slight ringing in my ears, but by now I was desperate to get rid of this dull pain. I swept aside the empty perfume bottles and my flat iron on the counter, trying not to look directly into the mirror. I reached for the aspirin, focusing on the full moon silhouetted against the fogged up window outside. The cabinet door creaked open. I heard a voice through the mirror on the other side of it.

"My baby!"

I dropped my hand. The cabinet door was open so that the mirror faced the wall. I couldn't move, not wanting to close it to see who I'd find staring back at me.

"You must run!"

I gave a strangled cry of surprise when I recognized the voice. It was Babs' mother! I felt like Snow White's evil stepmother consulting a mirror, but I had to see . . . I didn't want to see. "Run from what?" I asked. There was no answer. I hesitated, then reached up and shut the medicine cabinet.

The beautiful faery queen watched me, her long platinum hair sweeping around her heart-shaped face just like before. I could see her world behind her. It was caked in white snow. The ice shone like glass. "Your destiny," she said urgently. "They're coming!"

I jumped at the loud knock on the door and turned. "Get out of there! Quick!" It was Hobs.

I checked out the mirror behind my shoulder. The faery queen was fading. "My baby . . ." she whispered. I felt helpless. I didn't know what I was running from. _My destiny?_ What kind of answer was that?

Her hand stretched out to me and then she was gone. Something else was taking her place. A dark shadow. It watched me like before, and suddenly I knew it hadn't been my own shadow last time. In a moment, it would be mottled and misshapen with red hair. Hobs ripped open the bathroom door and dragged me into my bedroom. He already had Babs. She clung to his neck. "They're coming!" he said. "Can't you hear the crickets? They're going crazy out there." Well, yeah, they were always chirping this time of night. He dragged us down the dark hall and into the kitchen. We skidded across the polished floor. "The crickets always know what's going on. Why weren't you listening to them?"

"I can't understand crickets!"

Hobs slid under the kitchen table, taking us with him, and I bumped my head against the table. I met his eyes, our noses almost touching. He grabbed my arm, pulling me even closer to him. "Cats are bad news in May . . . and every other month," he said in a harsh undertone. "Why would you ever keep one?"

"What?"

"That stupid cat talked!"

I wrestled away from him. The cat talked? "What did Hairball say?"

It was a ridiculous question and Hobs clearly saw it that way too because he just leaned back against the table leg, refusing to answer. "We can't let them see us."

"Who?"

Two legs approached us. Well, that's all I could see from under the table. But they were wearing my leg warmers. I tried not to think that they looked better on those shapely calves than on my stick ones. Before her perfect knees bent down and she stuck her pretty face under the table, I already suspected it was Daphne. The flowery tablecloth spread across her blonde hair like a veil. It looked like my sister, but the way things were going, I couldn't be sure. She grinned at us and I relaxed. Only Daphne had that silly grin. "What happened to the baby?" she asked. She tickled Babs' cheek. "Who's this little one? Did she grow overnight?"

"Uh." I glanced at Babs. The horns of hair on the top of her head were growing even longer from this morning and now they hung limply over her ears. There was no way I could pass her off as the infant she was before. Not even Daphne would swallow such a tale. Babs wore her solemn expression. That part of her never changed. "She's the older sister," I said quickly. "They're just kind of farming the kids out right now. The parents didn't really want a high schooler having the baby for that long, so they gave me the . . . uh . . . three-ish-year-old."

"What's this one's name?"

I hesitated.

"Halley!" Babs blurted. Her tiny hands went out to me.

I pulled her from Hobs, nodding vigorously. "What do you know? She has my name."

"Huh." Daphne's grin went wider. "What do you know? Let me guess, you didn't bother to listen for this kid's name either?" She clucked her tongue at Babs' black T-shirt. It was mine, and it swallowed the poor girl. "Hey, we've got some toddler clothes leftover from the twins. They're a little retro now, but I'll go get them." Without waiting for an answer, she left us.

"Get . . . them!" Babs copied her. Her fat fingers caught at the air and squeezed, and I wondered what she was really doing. It was probably something way over my head.

Hobs let out a breath. His arm had managed to find its way around me in our cramped quarters under the table. "That's why we can't say anything important around Babs. She'll just repeat it like your cat did."

I glanced over at him. Hobs must follow that rule around me too. Who was chasing us for instance? "I saw the faery queen in the bathroom mirror." I watched for his reaction.

I wasn't disappointed. He looked positively rattled. "What? Is she losing her power?" He ran shaky fingers through his blond hair. "She could've pulled you right through. You know that, right? Stay away from mirrors."

My mouth went dry. "Wouldn't that have solved our problem?"

"No . . . no . . . I wouldn't say that."

"What _would_ you say?"

I became aware of a sound that at first seemed like the wind, the sound of . . . sobbing. Someone was crying outside the window by the kitchen sink. Was it one of my little sisters? My awakening heart couldn't take it. I tried to crawl out from the table, but Hobs wrenched me back, holding me in place with one arm. Now I knew why he had strategically placed it there. "Are you insane? There's a whole army at the Sidhe's disposal . . . and they're a little leaderless right now. That means the hag has control over them. We can't let them see you."

I wriggled away from him. "Unless you tell me what _they_ are, I'm going out there to make sure that isn't one of my sisters crying."

"Banshees. They cry when someone is about to die." He gave me an ironic smile. "In this case, they're going to kill us. Their cold breath on your face, the touch of their frozen fingers on your unprotected skin—it will mean your death. Can you understand that?"

His words sucked the fight right out of me. "Will my family be alright?"

He studied my worried expression, looking confused. "Yeah, yeah . . . they'll be fine. It's the ones who hear the cry of the Banshees who have a problem."

That was good. My family couldn't hear them. Could Babs? She played with her fingers in an unconcerned manner. Either she couldn't hear them or she was used to the racket. "Maybe we should get the cat," I said. "I hear faeries don't like them."

"I told you I don't trust your cat."

"I don't care!" I said. "I can't take the sound. Hobs, could you just sing or something and drown them out? We'll sing at the top of our lungs! Then we won't hear them."

"How about we die with some dignity instead?"

Daphne moved the tablecloth to squeeze under the table with us. I jumped, and she just smiled brightly at me, as if it was perfectly normal to camp under the table. "Well, you can't carry a tune, so it might sound pretty bad," she said, catching onto the tail end of our conversation. She spread out the red-and-white skirts of her Omak High cheerleading outfit over her knees, unknowingly shoving Hobs back.

With a teasing look, she sang as she stuffed Babs' legs into the baby jeans. She had inherited the same singing ailment I did, and Hobs winced. The Banshees' sobbing hesitated. She was throwing off their rhythm. I wasn't one to lose a perfectly good opportunity, and I quickly joined in with her. The Banshees screamed out angrily, and I had to agree with them. It _was_ pretty bad—maybe even scary. Daphne was completely oblivious to our clashing voices as she pulled a little pink shirt with a flower over Babs' rounded belly.

More legs approached us and a whole army of blond heads popped beneath the table. My twin sisters and my dad. Just like Daphne, none of them were surprised to see us under the table. This was normal behavior in the Starr family, just not for me.

"Hi, girls." My dad smiled at us, especially when he saw my tiara. "You're really getting into this faery queen thing," he said with a laugh. "Don't you ever take that off?"

"Yeah, the . . . uh . . . kid likes it, so . . ."

His eyes found her, and he turned serious. "Who are you babysitting now?"

"Dad," I whined, because I knew that was how to get what I wanted. I ignored Hobs' arched brow. "You should see this poor family. They're a mess. One emergency after another. Anyway, I had to take this one in because they couldn't find anyone else."

"We have the baby too?"

"No, they took her back. And look at her. Isn't she adorable?"

"Huh. Well, that's nice of you." And surprising, his voice clearly indicated. I had never been one for charity work before. He hesitated while he made his decision, and I tried to look like a saint and that I was really changing into a good kid because of my new responsibilities. I saw him give in again, and I relaxed.

Kesley and Leslie pushed their way in next. Their blonde hair was plaited into twin braids, still wet from swimming practice. They wore the same pajamas. One had the bottoms and the other had the top—with the appropriate articles of clothing to finish off the ensembles, of course. Dad was still in his work clothes, though he looked to have parked his shoes and tie in the living room like always. "Want to watch a movie?" he asked. "It's an exciting one."

I glanced down at Babs' horned head. "I don't know if she can handle it." At the same time, I really didn't want them to leave me alone in the kitchen and I tried to think of any excuse to make them stay. Nothing came out.

"What do you think she'd want to watch?" my dad asked.

"Snow White!" one of the twins said. She was already braiding Babs' hair. "I still have it!"

"No . . ." I said weakly.

"She'll love it," my dad promised. "And we're going to have ice cream and brownies."

"Hey, that sounds like fun." Hobs nudged me mockingly towards my family—as if I could actually go, but there was no way. Already the Banshees were back to their incessant crying since Daphne had stopped offending their sensibilities with her singing.

"I think I need to get this little one to bed." I tried to sing it as off key as I could, but it was a little embarrassing. "Sing with me everybody—a goodnight song."

My sisters giggled.

"Oh my, she's a strict mother, isn't she?" My dad looked oddly proud. "Don't worry, little girl," he told Babs. "Around here, bedtime is a treat. We'll tell her our favorite family bedtime stories. I'm sure she hasn't heard the one about the Starrs and the golden hen!"

I gasped, but not because of that—Hobs had pinched me, like I was going to give in! "No!" I said after a swift elbow jab back. "She needs to go right to bed."

My dad winked and stole Babs from me. I had no choice but to follow him out from under the table. The Banshees' cries grew louder at the sight of us. Their long white arms scratched across the windows. I refused to look directly at them. With voices like that, I didn't want to see what they looked like.

Hobs reluctantly crawled out after me, giving me a reproachful look. We froze at the rapping on the door. "Lovely," he muttered. "Now they're knocking."

"Do you hear that?" Daphne asked. Before I could stop her, she headed for the door.

Hobs' hand was on my back. "Run!"

"What about Daphne?"

"They're not after her."

I stole Babs from my dad's grasp. Her big hazel eyes were wide and dark with fear. Oh, yeah, she could hear them! She was scared. "Goodnight!" I shouted to the room in general. We hurtled through the living room and I could hear my family calling goodnight behind us. The door opened in the kitchen and a green mist oozed into the room. Daphne coughed on it, but Hobs was right. It wasn't after her. It sped after us. "How do we stop them?" I cried.

"Are you kidding? They're immortal! They're cursed never to die!"

How did you fight something that couldn't die, whose very touch was death? I chanced a look behind us to see flaming red eyes stare at us through the dark mist filling the air. The grandfather clock began its first strike to nine. Hobs dragged us behind it just as we spied five _not-quite_ women searching us out with jerky movements. At this close range, I could see they couldn't stop crying. That's why their eyes were so red. If they were so sad about taking us, then they should go back to where they came from.

Their maws gaped open at an unnatural angle, and they chanted through it—their tongues slithering around their teeth. I couldn't make the words out, but I could definitely hear them. It sounded like a death rattle. They ducked around the living room furniture, their bodies cutting in and out of the air, howling as they went.

"Get as much distance between us as possible," Hobs shouted. One of them reached out for me. I shrieked, feeling the cold emanating from the gray, decaying finger. Before it could get to me, Hobs knocked a candlestick against it. The silver warped at the Banshee's touch and bent to the ground like melted wax.

_"Lost, lost, lost,"_ it sobbed. At such close proximity, I could hear the words, but they didn't make sense.

"Our treasures, our queen, the child.

All lost!"

Hobs picked up a picture of me from the mantle and got ready to smash the Banshee's face with it. The creature stilled to stare at it. "You like this?" Hobs held up a staying hand at me to keep me back, then advanced on it, holding the picture up like a shield. "Does she look familiar?"

"Honey? What are you doing?" My lovely mother sat in front of the TV in her workout clothes, calmly eating popcorn. I scrambled further back before she could see me hiding behind her grandfather clock. I didn't want to be thrown into a mental institution. Actually, I might prefer that than to this being real.

" _Honey?"_ a Banshee breathed, mocking my mom's voice from behind the couch where she sat. I saw the rusting crown resting over hair that once was beautiful; she was their leader. _"Stay . . . stay still. Don't be scared . . . honey."_ Her voice deepened into a vicious growl.

"Thief. Thief. Thief.

The rule of Ratis defiled.

For a thief."

The others chanted the words in a drumming rhythm as the Banshee queen floated over my mother's head and past the fireplace. Her fingers scraped past the walls in dead silence—like they weren't really there. The grandfather clock stopped ringing. The face on it cracked as she passed. Tears streamed down her mottled face. My heart lurched—the Banshee queen had killed my mom's favorite clock. I was dead in more ways than one.

My hands tightened over Babs, and I ducked, throwing three heavy knickknacks at the queen at once. They hit her hard, and the two approaching creatures behind her as well—as if I had a lot more strength than I had.

"Halley Victoria Starr!" my mom shouted from the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, they're just falling! I've got them. Don't worry!" The star on my tiara glowed brighter. I swiveled away from the Banshees, breathing hard. Nothing about this felt natural.

"Mourn, mourn, mourn.

Star shall rule the sun and moon

'ere morn."

What were they saying? Their words and crackling voices messed with my ears. "Don't listen to that." Hobs backed into me. The creature watching my framed picture in Hobs' hand twisted its head around with a startled jerk. Seeing my face brought it out of its trance. It let out a piercing scream.

I shoved past Hobs, my fingers joining his over the picture frame. I planted it into the Banshee's face and put a temporary end to its tears. The Banshee fell back, clawing at the frame wrapped around its head. My sudden strength scared me. "Why do I know how to fight?"

Hobs swiveled to stare at me. "It's just a side effect of the curse. It's a good thing." He wrapped an arm around me, sandwiching Babs safely between us. A sobbing scream above us alerted us to the Banshee queen crawling over my family's ceiling. Our heads shot up and we watched her detach herself from the molding, her ragged hair growing longer. Her tears dripped over us as she descended on us like a spider.

"Pain, pain, pain

Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

Shatter our pain."

We both went tripping over my mother's famed fern. Hobs knocked it between us and the Banshees. It wilted in front of us. My mom's head tilted at the sight, and for a brief moment she looked confused and then a little . . . angry.

"Um, sorry."

We crawled backwards away from the narrowed eyes of three more Banshees. They snaked forward, their straggly hair dragging against the floor. The wood splintered beneath them. Vases and portraits from the mantle flew around me, crashing against the living room floor. I tried to cover Babs from it, and the knickknacks hit me hard in the back.

"Lost, lost, lost

Our treasures, our queen, the child

All lost.

Thief. Thief. Thief.

The rule of Ratis defiled.

For a thief."

"Halley?" My mom had set her popcorn aside. "What is going on?" One of her gaudy crafts pitched off the wall and tossed through the air. I ducked as it came crashing down on me. "How are you doing that?" There was a note of worry in her voice.

"I'm not!" I cried.

"Are we having an earthquake?" She stood up and put her hand on the wall—inches from a Banshee who was plastered against it. The whole house shook now. My mom turned to my dad the moment he rushed into the room, which was alive with paranormal power. The windows cracked. "Everyone stand under a doorway." My dad beckoned to the twins and they stood on either side of him.

Hobs' hands went under my armpits and he dragged me to my feet. Babs was still wrapped around my neck like a monkey. I held tightly to her. We ran past the staircase and down the hall, where he shoved us into my room. He slammed the door behind us, muffling the chanting from the Banshees. I could hear their hateful words out in the hall as they came closer.

"Mourn, mourn, mourn.

Star shall rule the sun and moon

'ere morn.

Pain, pain, pain

Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

Shatter our pain."

The clatter woke my shadow from her catnap, and she sat up on my bed, her formerly-perfect hair askew. Oh sure, _she_ could sleep!

"Get away from the door!" Hobs warned. I turned to see it ripping from its hinges. Misty fingers traveled through the cracks. "Start singing!" His voice cracked. "Keep it bad!" I ran for my radio, singing at the top of my lungs. Maybe I could give the Banshees something better than my insubstantial voice. I clicked the radio onto our only rock station. "Yes, good, good," Hobs said. "Find the worst song you can!"

"We don't have that many stations here!" I argued.

"Find one about a truck or a dog or something! Something country. Faster!"

I traveled furiously through the channels, found a song about a star crossed-lover, and turned it up loud. The Banshees tried to out-wail it with their chants, and I pumped the volume up all the way, trying not to snap the knob off in my panic. The Banshees pounded against the door, but I could tell they were losing their strength in the face of the competition. Babs' lower lip jutted out. I stroked her soft bangs away from her face, trying to comfort her. I covered her ears. "Is this why faeries love music?" I shouted. "It keeps the Banshees away?"

"Banshees _are_ faeries!" Hobs shouted through the din.

"They don't _look_ like faeries!"

"They're cursed to roam the earth. They were naughty. They were the maidservants of Queen Ratis when the treasures were lost."

I put my fingers to my lips with a shrill shriek. "Don't say _her_ name!"

He gave me an impatient look. "Ratis is not the hag! Don't worry. She was the keeper of the treasures. And besides, it's what _we_ call her—nobody knows her real name. Even if I knew it, I would never . . ." The door warped in front of us, and I yelped, dragging Babs toward the bathroom. "Oh, no you don't . . ." Hobs tugged us both back. "Don't let them corner you. They tear down walls—you can't."

"Why aren't they tearing down _this_ wall then?"

"Would _you_ want to be in here?" he cried. _Well, no!_ Hobs breathed in deeply, pacing the room around us. It looked like he was thinking hard, and I knew he wasn't being completely honest with me. There was another reason he didn't want me near the bathroom, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with the mirror and what waited for me in there. "It won't be long before they get in here." His eyes searched mine like he wanted to tell me something, but he was torn. "The Banshees don't even know who they're fighting. She just sent them after us without an explanation. We've got to get them quiet enough to talk some sense into them. Turn the radio down."

"No!"

The door to the bathroom rattled, and I pulled away from it, seeing the windows shake as something hard pounded against them. My legs went weak. This was what Hobs had saved us from. "What's in the bathroom? More Banshees?"

Hobs paled, but he shook his head. The pressure from the air was building, and he pulled us to the middle of the room. We were surrounded. The bathroom door ripped open like cardboard, and the most grotesque thing I had ever seen pulled through the jagged edges of wood. It was a hideous monster. Its paper-white skin stretched over a pointy face. The eyes were crossed, probably because its nose was so bulbous it couldn't see past it. It was short and stocky . . . and must I go on? The unfortunate thing had absolutely no redeeming features at all. I shrieked and scrambled back, using Hobs' body as a shield; he laughed a little.

Babs reached out for the monster. "Dadda."

Hobs wrinkled his nose. "Uh no, that's not your dadda, honey. That's Bugul. Try not to look at him directly or you'll go mad."

The goblin thing gave a disgusted snort. It wore a leather vest laced up on the sides, and tattered black pants. The monster was made of pure muscle. Its forearms and calves were covered in armor. It stalked up to Hobs, poking him hard in the ribs. I screamed. "Where are they?" the creature yelled.

Hobs and I exchanged glances. It was a lot easier than looking at this Bugul guy. To be honest, it actually gave me a headache. "They're over there." Hobs motioned hurriedly to the door. The goblin left us, bumbling for it. "Um, Bugul, you know they can't die, right?" Hobs tried to warn him, but the goblin had himself and apparently everybody else well in hand. He tore the bedroom door down with his bare hands, just like he had the bathroom door.

_"Lost, lost . . ."_ The Banshees stepped back, choking on a sob.

They were as startled as I had been at seeing him. He chucked what remained of my door against the wall, leaving an ugly dent. "What are you doing here?" The Banshees didn't move. The radio still kept them back. Bugul turned with an oath and smashed my radio flat. The Banshees stared at him in the awkward silence. A few sniffed. "No one gave you permission to be here!"

I had to avert my eyes from the creature. Hobs, on the other hand, was fascinated. "Clever. Fight death with death. Why didn't I think of that?" It wasn't very polite, but yeah, this Bugul guy pretty much looked like death. A slight smile played over Hobs' lips. "Not so easy on the eyes, maybe, but he makes for a great distraction." He watched me with a considering look. "Hold Babs close to you."

He didn't need to tell me—I already was. The Banshees turned to me, and I wasn't sure our ugly new ally could keep them back for long, especially with their hollowed-eyed looks. _"Lost,"_ the queen muttered under her breath.

Hobs pointed at me. "Well, you found her. Maybe you should look a little closer at her before you decide to kill her, Cyhiraeth."

"Hobs?" I asked.

His eyes drew to mine, but I wasn't getting whatever he was trying to communicate to me. He brought his attention back to the Banshees, stepping away from me with his hands out to show he was harmless. "She wears the diadem of the keeper. Do you see that, Cyhiraeth? Look on your princess. She's the one who leads you."

The Banshees stared at me, and then with a shriek, turned to Babs. The baby was more interested in playing with my earrings. Their bloodshot eyes narrowed at her, and I buried her face into my shoulder. I didn't want them to look at her like that, and I glared at them to prove it. To my surprise, they bowed their heads. _"It is she."_ One by one they dropped to their knees, their ragged dresses tangled behind them _. "Our liege. Undying loyalty."_

Their voices sounded dead. _"Dying loyalty."_

_"Loyalty,"_ another echoed. _"Star shall rule the sun and moon."_

My fingers dug into Babs. They were chanting that terrible poem again and watching Babs like she was their liege. "Leave us," I choked on the order.

"Never leave . . . Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds."

" _Follow you . . . always."_ At that threat, the Banshees' crying voices faded as they melted from our sight.

"Shatter our pain."

It was the last thing I heard. I sagged in relief. Gathering Babs into a hug, I collapsed on the edge of my bed, staring at the broken door. The deep scratches from the Banshees' broken nails trailed down the walls from the hallway to the living room in a jagged line.

"You lead them?" I asked Babs, but I patted her on the back to soften the accusation. I couldn't have her crying on me, especially in front of that _thing_ . . . well, what was that thing anyway? This Bugul guy?

Hobs clasped the top of the broken doorjamb, the veins sticking out from his forearms as he tried to straighten the frame. "What brings you here, Bugul?" The goblin rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer. "You don't know anything about a dog in the park, do you?" Hobs kept his voice calm with seemingly little effort. I was familiar with that tone. "Anyone send _that_ after us?"

The goblin grumbled, pacing the room in quick, jerky movements. "Everyone's after you! What do you think you're doing here, boy? Getting her killed you are! You weren't supposed to . . ."

Hobs straightened, glancing hastily at me. "Wait, Bugul . . . friend. I thought you took a vow of silence."

" _Your friend_?" Bugul howled. "You have a lot of nerve! Have you forgotten . . ." the rest of his words were lost in grunts.

"Forgotten what? Your sacred tribute to the queen? Never." Hobs had the grace to color under Bugul's withering look. "Bugul's very devout in his faith, girls. The man recently took a vow of silence." Bugul waved his arms about in an angry blur, but nothing came out of his mouth. If I could read lips _and_ if I knew the faery language, I was sure I'd see a string of curses. Hobs pulled from the door to pat him on the back, but that just started another round of furious grunts. "I missed you too. We'll talk about it later. Maybe in a few days. I'm pretty sure of it, actually."

Bugul's eyes bulged in rage, and Babs cried out at the spectacle. Hey, it was almost enough to make _me_ cry. The goblin noticed the crying toddler, and with a snort of impatience, tore away from us to pace the room.

I tried to relax, but it was hard, knowing that my parents were about to see the remnants of my room. Uh yeah, and everything else had been a little stressful too, I guess.

# Chapter Eleven

For an Ouphe has broken his vestal vow;

He has loved an earthly maid,

And left for her his woodland shade;

He has lain upon her lip of dew,

And sunned him in her eye of blue,

Fann'd her cheek with his wing of air,

Played in the ringlets of her hair

—Joseph Rodman Drake, _The Culprit Fay_

I hadn't slept for three days. I stared at the dresses heaped over my floor. Ever since the "freak earthquake" as my family called it, my room had been more than its usual wreck. Babs tripped over my pink furry rug in my high heels, dressing up in practically everything I owned. "Halley! Halley!" She blew a kiss at me. Hobs had taught her to do that. I could barely respond.

I pushed my hand up. It flopped against the bed as I pretended to catch the kiss and press it into my cheek. She smiled. Babs had grown another two years overnight, and then another two before my very eyes. I think that made her about six years old. I stared at her with dull eyes. Babs was beautiful; she looked more like my sisters than I ever did. She talked a mile a minute like they did, too.

"Whatsh thish?" She held up my bracelet, and then tried to fit it over Bugul's oversized blue-and-gold-veined wrist, still asking me questions while he glowered at everyone in the room—especially Hobs. "Where didsh you get thish? Can I wear it?"

I smiled wanly. Babs had a little speech impediment. It was cute. She strutted around the room in my Midsummer Dream's costume. It was appropriate in so many ways. The play was tonight, and I wasn't sure how, but the show had to go on. It was a funny thing to think about when dying. "Midsummer," I breathed. Hobs messed with my backpack in the corner of the room, and I tried to get his attention. "Midsummer Night's Dream . . . it's tonight."

"I know. We need earplugs." Hobs threw cotton into my backpack next to some water bottles and a bandanna, as if we actually had someplace to go. He even dressed up for it in warmer clothes. His vintage jeans gave his legs a long, lean look. I, on the other hand, hadn't changed my clothes since yesterday. I had given up trying to find the Sidhe. I was still in my sweats and rumpled tee, not dressed to go anywhere.

I stared up at him. "You have more clothes than I do."

His eyes swept significantly over the messy carpet. "No, all your clothes are just on the floor. Get dressed."

"What for?"

"June 24th, of course. Midsummer, just like your play. Faeries are making merry and night is drawing nigh. No way am I missing the party again this year." He rescued my arm warmers from the ground and slipped one over my arm like I was a helpless baby—which at this point, I was. "It's cold in the Sidhe." His fingers were rough. He pulled my hand through the other knitted tube. It tickled, and I watched him dumbly, too weak to move. He confiscated the bracelet from Bugul's wrist and threw it into my backpack along with some strange knickknacks from the living room. Even if we were able to get to faeryland, how would I get back home, or to the _Otherworld_ as the faeries called this place? I tried not to think about it.

Hobs gathered the book of faerytales with his other hand. He slid it into the bag. Bugul straightened and growled out something. Hobs gave him a level look. "There's no way we'd survive out there without it. It's our map out of there."

"I'm supposed to be in the play tonight." I repeated it like a broken record.

"Your shadow will do it."

"My shadow is dumb." I was rewarded with a flick on the head from my shadow's exquisite finger, followed by her shrill giggle. She had been flirting with Hobs all day. I couldn't believe she was even a part of me . . . my airhead part of me. "How will she take over? I can't even . . . see her all the way."

"You will."

". . . too convenient."

"It is." He didn't spare my simpering shadow a glance, though I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was now me . . . a stupid me. It was strange how I looked with her cheesy smile. She wandered around my messy room in a flirty skirt, a gray striped vest, and—I frowned—my leg warmers. It wouldn't be long before she was stealing Daphne's clothes too. She batted her eyelashes at Hobs and ran into a wall. She wasn't used to having boundaries.

Hobs laughed and met my eyes. "You're gonna have to fix a lot of things when you get back."

My shadow took absolutely no offense at that, which worried me. No one would believe she was me for long. "I'd rather go missing."

"Too bad."

"Why does she have to be me? Is it because . . . I'm dying?" It scared me how hard it was to catch enough breath to say it.

"Are you?" I nodded, and he shocked me with a grin. "Good." He squeezed my hand. "You were making _me_ tired just looking at you."

Bugul snorted at this, but ever since Hobs had _discovered_ his vow of silence, he was completely out of words. Babs continued to decorate the goblin with my jewelry, but nothing would help the poor thing. Maybe that's why Hobs kept stealing the baubles from him and throwing them into my backpack. _What is he doing with all that useless stuff, anyway?_ My irritation gave me fresh energy, though it never lasted long enough to do any good. "What are you packing?"

"Gifts. Faeries like glittery things." Hobs held a necklace in front of Babs, and she jumped for it, but he held it just out of reach.

"Whatsh that?" she asked. Bugul folded his arms in silent rage.

"If we're going to vacation in the Sidhe," Hobs said, "we've got to be able to barter."

"How will we get there?" I asked.

"Between wake and sleep, hope and desperation, life and death," Hobs said. "Whatever. The Sidhe is right in front of us. We're almost there, beautiful girl. No worries."

"How long . . . ?" I couldn't finish.

"Depends on if we get caught." Hobs sat heavily down on the side of my bed, peering into my eyes. I couldn't move away, and after a moment he laid gentle fingers against the tiara on my head, his breath warm against my ear. "Listen closely." The jewel glowed over his face, and he seemed to be talking to it. "There are six rules of the Fae." I flinched. Rules were not my strong point. They always got me into trouble. Hobs smirked as if he could read my mind. "It's only six, babe. It's not that hard."

"Rrrr!" Bugul stood up in outrage, swinging his fists. "Uh-uh!" It was hard not to interpret that Hobs was getting something wrong. "Mmm mmm rrrrsss." That was a little harder to decipher, and I tried to listen more closely, knowing that Hobs would only misinterpret Bugul in his lame attempt to translate. "Mmm mmm."

Hobs blew my dark hair out of his face and straightened to look at Bugul. "What?"

"Mmm mmm." Bugul held up seven fingers.

"Seven." Even half dead, I could figure it out. "There are seven rules, aren't there, Hobs?"

"Ummm hmmm."

" _Ummm hmmm_ means no," Hobs said.

"He's saying seven." I stuck stubbornly to my claim. Let Hobs mute me with a spell if he dared—I wasn't backing down. Babs pulled the Skittles from the backpack. They were the leftovers from our great shopping expedition. If it wasn't for Daphne's mothering, Babs would be just as sick as I was. Babs ceremoniously presented the Skittles to us with her sticky hands.

"Love the present, Babs." Hobs tossed them into the backpack again. He watched me and growled in defeat. "Okay, seven rules then." Bugul let out a satisfied sigh and Hobs gave him a cold smile, which I knew meant trouble. "First rule—the Otherworldly can't eat faery food. It's forbidden."

Already, the rules didn't make sense. "Why?"

"It's disgusting." My forehead wrinkled. That couldn't be the real reason. He touched the tiara over my head, and it rang over my ears in response, repeating the rule back to me: _The Otherworldly can't eat faery food. It's forbidden_. "You must remember," he said.

"Did you hear that?" I asked. "Your words . . . they're echoing back at me."

"It's just a little reminder every time you're tempted to break the rules. No worries. No one else will be able to hear it but you and me. It'll be our little secret. They'll be glad, too, because it's annoying."

Babs had returned to pawing the Skittles, and I sat up too fast, making my head ache. "What happens . . . when faeries eat _our_ food?"

"Nothing."

As always, it wasn't fair, and it must have shown on my face, because he pushed me back against my bed with gentle hands. For once he looked serious. "Second rule. If you hear the music of the faeries, run. You must remember." He touched the tiara over my head again. I felt him ingraining it into my memory quite literally. The words circled through my head: _If you hear the music of the faeries, run. If you hear the music of the faeries, run._

I wasn't strong enough to fight against whatever spell he was putting over me. "C'mon, you can't tell me that faeries really sing . . . that bad?" I said.

He grinned. "They've got nothing on you." He tapped my head again. By now I was used to the ringing that filled my ears at the motion. "Third. Never say thank you." I gave him a curious look, and he shrugged. "It's offensive. That's why we're bringing the gifts. It's the only way to get what we want. You must remember." _Never say thank you_. It echoed in my head.

Hobs turned to the scowling Bugul. "We need more shiny things for bargaining. I saw some jewelry in the bathroom. Go get it." Bugul glanced at the bathroom, then at me, shaking his head forcefully. Hobs sighed. "He doesn't like mirrors," he explained. It wasn't hard to know why, and Bugul's eyes narrowed at him. "He's afraid he'll get snatched to the other side. Don't worry, friend, I'll hold your hand if you're scared."

Hobs reached out for him, and Bugul scrambled away with a growl. Babs happily wrote on the wall behind us with a bright red marker. Bugul snatched it from her grip with an angry swipe and threw it at us on his way to the bathroom. I had a feeling if he could talk, it would've been accompanied with a lecture.

Hobs winced at Babs' artwork. I couldn't really react, except to lift my head, peering closer at the writing on the wall "What's it say?" I asked.

Babs bowed her head in shame. "Ish my name."

I squinted at the wall, but there was no way to decipher the scribbles. "I think it says Lug," Hobs said after a moment. My shadow giggled.

"Nobody is calling her Lug," I told them both. My shadow rolled her eyes and went to grab something to clean it up with . . . outside of my room! She pranced into the hall. _Is she already taking my place?_ I didn't have enough energy to get nervous about it. At least I couldn't see through her anymore. She looked quite solid. I could die, and no one in this world would be the wiser.

"It's for the best, Sleeping Beauty," Hobs whispered. He dabbed something onto my eyelids. The glitter fell from my lashes onto my cheeks. My eyes felt even heavier. Hobs started pacing. "It's the fourth rule, actually. Don't use our names, only use euphemisms, nicknames—you never call a faery by their name. It's annoying, and they have to go wherever you call. Or worse, it'll make _you_ go to them." A loud clatter followed the pronouncement, and Hobs let out a pained howl. "Poake-ledden!" He hopped up and down holding the knee that he had run into the dresser.

Bugul chortled loudly from the bathroom. Hobs growled out, but because of the little devil he was, he had a hard time keeping his own laugh back. He settled back next to me and finished the ritual. "You must remember that." My head rang again as he touched it again. Strangely enough, I felt myself drifting away, his words settling into my dreams. _"Never call a faery by their name. It's annoying, and they have to go wherever you call. Or worse, it'll make you go to them._ _Poake-ledden!"_

The corners of my mouth turned up when I heard the faery swear word caught at the end of the echo. Even in the depths of my exhaustion, I had a bad case of schadenfreude. Babs tried to bury herself into my side, but my bed was too tall for her three-ish foot frame, and she couldn't climb up. As soon as Hobs swung her up beside me, her arms were around me. She watched me with concerned eyes. "Whatsh the matter?"

I squeezed her hand in response just as I heard the sound of wailing. My eyes strained for the window. Babs' fingers tightened over mine. She was finally old enough to be scared. The Banshees were coming with new, probably stronger orders, and I had no fight to give them. "I can't run . . ."

"Of course you can't." Hobs grabbed a pair of my old boots he had stashed under the bed. They were made of brown leather, laced up the front, and lined with fur—hardly appropriate summer attire. "It's the fifth rule. You promised you _would_ bring Babs back. You must never break a promise to a faery. You must remember that." His words repeated through me. _Never break a promise to a faery._ It drifted in and out of my consciousness.

I was seeing things. Snowflakes fell over my bed. The wailing grew more distant, like it was from another world. I watched the ivy cling to the bed posts with desperate fingers. Dense trees groaned above us in a tower of shadow. The branches creaked under the weight of heavy snow.

"Sixth rule." Hobs laced the boots onto my leg with an efficient tug. I tried to ignore the fact that they looked terrible with my sweat capris. "Do not trespass the sacred territory of the faeries. You must remember that." Too late. The circlet buzzed over my head in warning, glowing through the dark forest. Is that why Hobs had programmed the rules into me? To remind me every time I was tempted to break them . . . or when I already did? _Do not trespass the sacred territory of the faeries._

The Sidhe could no longer be held from my vision, and I wasn't tired anymore. Energy coursed through my body. It was a rush, and I sprang up from my bed like I was caught in the middle of a sprint. I blinked away the snowflakes from my lashes. My bedroom was still here, but so was this forest. Everything about it was magical and deadly. "Why can I see this?" My heart quickened. "Uh, Hobs, what's happening? I'm not dead, am I?"

"It's a rebirth. The curse was the only way to get you back to the Sidhe." I stared at this new world. My world was covered with it. A tree here. A desk there. Snow. Wallpaper. It was hard to figure out what was real and what wasn't. This new vision was a part of the curse—it only took pure exhaustion to get me to see what was already around me in this strange new dimension called the Sidhe. Hobs leaned next to me, nudging me with his elbow. "I told you that faeries live here side by side with you . . . in another world."

Babs' eyes got wide as we watched the forest grow thick around us, choking out my world with it. She huddled close to me, one hand in Hobs', the other in mine. Her thick lashes blinked rapidly. She looked to be about seven now. I wasn't the only one who noticed her little growth spurt—Hobs turned to me, looking regretful. "I don't think anyone will recognize the princess now."

I shivered. The whole forest shimmered in the cold. The falling snow glittered over the Sidhe. It was scary and beautiful all at once. Just the kind of place where I imagined Red Riding Hood would feel quite comfortable—if her hood was trimmed with fur. "How long has the princess been gone?"

His eyes roved over my face, then lingered on my lips. "Too long." He brushed the flakes of snow from my cheeks. "Time stopped when she was stolen. Now all we know is winter and war. Everything bad happened when she was taken. The treasures were gone. Bargains were made with the Otherworldly. If we don't get her back soon, I don't think we have long before everything is destroyed."

I remembered that Hobs had told me that the princess was my age—seventeen. It was a long time. "What happened to _you_ when she left?"

"I swore I'd get her back, even if it killed me. There's a connection between us—it's hard to explain. I wasn't even sure what it was . . . but," he took a deep breath, "I searched the world for her and there was nothing. No trace of her anywhere. I had lost all hope of ever finding her."

My world was disappearing into his. I jumped when my tiara murmured a warning into my mind. _Do not trespass the sacred territory of the faeries._ The reminder made me nervous. It was too late for that. "Hobs, does anything bad happen if I break the rules?"

"You face the consequences. That's all." The door to my fading bedroom ripped open. Bugul's incensed face peeked out the very moment my bed disappeared out from under me. His grumbles faded into nothingness, and we left the poor guy behind in my bedroom. I shrieked and fell through the air, tumbling into a pile of cold snow.

Babs landed over me, and I let out a pained _ooph_. Hobs face-planted next to us. He pulled his head up from the snow, and it trickled from his newly acquired black beanie down his blond hair. He narrowed his dark eyes. We had collapsed in the middle of the forest onto a pile of frozen leaves and ice, our legs making heavy imprints in the snow, but even under all the debris I could see we were in a faery ring. The snow had melted around its boundaries.

I sat up, squeezing Babs' small hand, though it wasn't as small as before. "My bed?"

"Um, yeah . . ." Hobs smiled slowly. "It's a faery transporter. I think it did its job."

_With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see_. Yes, the faery queen was right. I was seeing another world. It glistened white. I took a shaky breath.

Hobs pulled himself up to his elbows, wearing a dark Army jacket. I wasn't really surprised at his change of clothes. It seemed more a trick of the senses anyway. He stretched slowly to his feet, not bothering to brush off the snow as he looked around the dark forest. He slanted a look at me. "Hey, notice anything new, like you have a lot more energy now?"

Of course I did. I wasn't dying anymore, and it freaked me out. What had the rest of the faery queen's curse done to me? _One and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax._ What would happen if I didn't get Babs to her mom in two days after being in this place? I was in a new chapter of the curse. I ran my hands down the goose bumps on my arms. Now that I was more than awake, I was freezing and scared—though I'd never admit it to Hobs. I was glad for the arm warmers and boots. Never mind that I looked like a complete punk in faeryland. "What about Bugul?" I asked.

"Ah." He dismissed him with a heartless wave of the hand. "He'll find his way back on a moonbeam or a rainbow or something." Somehow I doubted it was that easy.

I wondered what Hobs had packed for food. Being ravenous must be a side effect of reversing the curse. If I was hungry, my growing girl would be too. I searched the surrounding area for something to eat besides Skittles.

_The Otherworldly can't eat faery food. It's forbidden_ , the tiara reminded me. I took a deep breath. Seven rules. That was right. I had to keep seven rules. One might already be broken since it looked like I had trespassed sacred faery territory, I wasn't sure, except—wait. I only knew six rules. "Hobs?" I hit his arm, startling him from surveying the area. "What's the last rule?" He tried to look blank, but I wouldn't let him get away with it. "Seven rules like seven days, remember?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

I scowled, knowing he would've kept the real number from me if it hadn't been for Bugul. We had lost the one person who could keep Hobs honest. Babs snuggled closer to me, and I dropped an arm around her, trying to keep her warm. I was sure Hobs hadn't packed us anything to shield us from this cold, either. "Hobs! Tell me now."

Hobs wove his fingers behind his head, staring up into the white sky. He looked tense. After a moment, he dropped his hands and stepped closer to me. I reminded myself I had asked for it, so I kept myself from falling back at his determined look. He put a heavy hand on the top of my head. I thought he meant to imprint the last rule, but instead, his fingers trailed down my cheek to my chin. I sucked in my breath, but forced myself to stay where I was.

He watched me closely as if trying to memorize the details of my face, then he lightly touched my lips with his fingers. "Final rule. Remember this." He tapped my tiara. "Never fall in love with a faery." It gave me a start as his words buzzed through my head. Aside from the tiara's reaction, his words had struck me dumb. I tried to think what he could mean. "It's dangerous . . . especially for, uh, humans."

With some difficulty, I managed to gather my wits. "Don't worry. I've never fallen in love with any—"

"I know." He cut me off and smiled at my shocked expression. "But love potions are the faeries' favorite weapons, so be careful, for my sake." Before he could go into detail, a gruff throat cleared behind us. Hobs let me go with an impatient look.

Something hid in the shadowy woods. I felt as helpless as Hansel and Gretel without the advantage of breadcrumbs. Next came the growling. "What exactly is in this forest?" I asked.

Hobs let out a misty breath. Dark forms circled us, and Babs jumped back. My arms jerked around her as the forest came fully into focus. Glittering eyes stared at us through the trees.

"Well, that's inconvenient," Hobs said. "For us, that is, not for them."

# Chapter Twelve

The faery forest glimmered

Beneath an ivory moon,

The silver grasses shimmered

Against a faery tune.

—Sara Teasdale, _The Faery Forest_

"You lost, little girl?"

I stumbled back when they spoke. There were three wolves, dark and furry and menacing—with an attitude. Okay, maybe I really _was_ asleep. "Hey, Lil Red, you on your way to Grandma's?" The more they talked, the more they seemed like gangsters . . . in a faerytale sort of way. This would be the place for it.

"Who you got with you, girly girl?" another wolf growled at me. "A little piggy?"

The first wolf snickered. "No, bacon."

The other wolves guffawed at this. I glared. They had better not be referring to Babs as bacon . . . or a pig. She wasn't fat—just chubby and cute! I squeezed her like Charmin. "And who's the little punk?" The wolves eyed my Capris, arm warmers, and boots get-up.

I rolled my eyes. For once, my latest style was completely Hobs' fault. Since he professed to be a fashion guru, I suspected he had done it as a joke. For now that was the least of our problems. "What are these things?" I asked. _Bikers on paws?_ It looked like they were afraid to get closer. I glanced up at Hobs and guessed he might be the reason. He looked more irritated than anything.

"Get lost," he told them. "She's with me."

The wolves circled us. One of them had charred fur down the side of his body. It was probably from when he took a ride down the little pig's chimney. "Aren't you a little far from home, Hobany? Or are you headed to your mommy's with your tail between your legs? Did you miss her?" They made blubbering noises, mocking him. First of all, just who was Hobs' mother? And second of all, why were they calling him Hobany? "Hobs" was short for Hobgoblin.

A wolf sniffed at the back of my neck, sending cold prickles through my skin. He wore glasses, and seemed somewhat intelligent in an unnatural way. Hobs allowed himself a small chuckle. "How's your belly, Glasses? Those rocks digest yet?"

The wolf lifted his head, his lips curling up from his teeth, but instead of eating us, he growled out angrily, _"Ere the morn breaks, the twilight of gloom. The echoes of death encircle your tomb."_

I glanced at Hobs. The mat of fur just spouted poetry at us. It gave me chills. Hobs didn't look impressed—he laughed instead. "Is it just me, or do these hairy rugs need new material?"

The wolves howled out their appreciation at the insult. The one Hobs called "Glasses" regarded me with accusing eyes, as if _I_ were the one copping attitude. He growled out another line of a poem. _"The rustle of leaves, the crack of a twig, rouses the hunter. Your grave soon he'll dig."_

"Is that Shakespeare or the Bible?" I asked, trying to distract Glasses from eating me.

By the looks of him, an intellectual conversation might do the trick, and it did. Glasses tilted his head at me, his ears flattening back. "The Bible? Shakespeare? That's an inadequate comparison to my work."

"Are you kidding?" Hobs hastily interrupted the next onslaught of poetry. "His stuff isn't that poetic. He makes it up on the sly. Seriously, boys, is this what you do all day? Quote overdone poetry and wait around faery transporters to pick up lunch?"

"We like fast food," the charred wolf cut in smoothly.

"So much for coming in unannounced, aye, Hobany?" the fluffy gray spat. "You actually thought you could sneak past us?"

"We can't let you wander around out here in the woods alone." The charred one gave us a wolfish grin. "You might get lost. You were heading for the hag's place anyway, right? How about we do you a favor and escort you the rest of the way?"

"Would you, Octavius?" Hobs gave him a warning look that they weren't reading. _Apparently they didn't know him as well as I did._ "So clever of you to guess we were on a visit. We thought maybe we'd have a bite to eat at her place and talk about good times." He elbowed me after I didn't respond.

"Uh, yeah, right." I could only guess he didn't mean it. I just hoped that Babs' mother was on her way to pick her up. I smoothed back Babs' long blonde hair. My hand scraped over her wings and I jumped. Oh, not real wings. The kid was still wearing my fairy costume. Hobs didn't have the decency to put her in real clothes. At least she had the outgrown sneakers Daphne had given her.

"We'll travel together then," Octavius suggested in a gravelly voice. "We could always use a bite. If you get lost . . . we'll eat you. Always did like a good game of hide and seek."

Hobs laughed with them and I gave him an annoyed look. He shrugged off his jacket. "Wolves just love games," he said sarcastically. I knew exactly what kind of games they wanted to play. Babs shivered next to me, and Hobs wrapped his jacket around her, imparting a comforting smile. Her wings gave her a hunchbacked look. "It's okay." I caught his whisper to her. "I won't let anyone hurt you." I probably wasn't supposed to overhear that—it would blow his _cool_ cover. He took our hands to peel us out of the snow, leaving an impression of us behind.

The wolves nudged us deeper into the woods, surrounding us in their protective ranks. The branches sagged with mounds of white snow, and hung threateningly over us. The one called Octavius sniffed Hobs' backpack. "What do you got in there?"

"It's for Grandma." Hobs looked much too secretive. "Leave it alone." That only made the wolf more curious, though I couldn't recall anything particularly amazing that Hobs had put in there.

"Got food in there?"

"Yeah, human food. Ever eat that?"

Octavius licked his lips, his gaze fastening on us. "Yep. It _is_ a delicacy."

Hobs followed the wolf's meaning with obvious self-reproach. "What? Are you kidding? You've got to plump them up first before they're any good. Don't you know anything?"

"I don't like my food full of fat—just nice and juicy."

Hobs stepped around me to walk between us and the wolves. The birds sang an elaborate ditty, seemingly unaware of the threat below them. How had they survived this cold weather? The wolf with the glasses tipped his ear at the sound. _"Birds of blue and birds of red, flutter free and soon are dead."_ Couldn't the poet say anything pleasant?

"That's three for sparrows," Octavius said, walking companionably next to Hobs, "and five, no, six for bluebirds."

Were they playing I Spy now? They did like games. Next to me, the gray wolf lunged up on his spindly legs, shivering with excitement and dancing a little too close to Babs for my taste. I dragged her to my other side and she tried to hide behind me. Her little hand felt stiff. I tried to adopt Hobs' calm attitude. "Don't worry," I mouthed down to her.

"Oh, I just spotted an owl." The gray wolf smacked his lips. "That's the first one of the day."

I couldn't see the owl anywhere. "Wheresh the birdsh?" Babs asked.

"What? Your little sausage link don't believe me, Hobs? You know what that means, right boys?"

Babs' fingers clenched harder over mine as if she were afraid they were going to tear us apart. The gray snarled at her. I stiffened, my other hand forming a fist. Hobs gave me a warning look to stay out of it before he plunged to her defense. "Yeah, your stories are getting worse, you pig dropping. What kind of lies are you trying to feed us, anyway?"

Octavius nodded in agreement. "Didn't you eat all the owls last week, Caesar? What are you pulling?" I glared at the gray wolf too, smarting from his attack on Babs. I didn't know if my ninja skills worked on this side of the world, but I was ready to try them out.

The gray wolf shrugged at us. "What? There were leftovers."

"Maybe some feathers," I seethed under my breath.

Octavius's wolf ears pricked up and he snorted. "Alright, little girly. You're so smart, let's see you make a wager. Tell us how many birds are in these woods between here and the castle, and we'll give you your freedom. How about that?"

The wolves snickered. It was completely unfair. There was no way to come up with that number, let alone judge it. But they hadn't offered any ultimatum if I failed, so glaring, I chanced a guess. "One-thousand-and-thirty-two."

They chortled again, but this time with grudging respect. I had always wondered what was going through animals' minds before this, but I shouldn't have bothered. They were just as lame as everybody else.

"Okay," Octavius said. "If you can figure this next one out, I'll give you my right paw."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to play this game, but Hobs' eyes danced at the offer. "Sure, I'll take it," he said.

"What do you and my breakfast have in common?" Octavius asked.

"Nothing. I'm smarter."

Octavius chuckled. "Wrong. You'll both be digested . . . uh, but at different times."

Somehow it wasn't as funny as Hobs' answer—even the wolves groaned. "That's awful," Glasses said. "How about this one—what's the difference between a little girl and her grandma?"

"One's older?" the gray one guessed.

"Nope, about two seconds. Gulp goes the grandma. Gulp goes the little girl." They laughed, and I mussed Babs' hair, trying to put her at ease. She looked very somber, but she had been that way as a baby, two days ago.

"Okay, okay." Octavius pawed Hobs' leg in his eagerness. "What has horse hooves, a monkey tail, and goes flap, flap, flap?"

"Dinner," Hobs said.

The wolves exchanged looks. Apparently that was the right answer, and I remembered the deal. Someone had to give Hobs something pretty important. Hobs looked more serious than I had ever seen him. "You owe me your paw, Octavius."

Octavius braced himself. The charred wolf was way too cool to back out of the deal now, and besides, his friends were all watching. In the ensuing silence, he extended his paw. The other wolves watched tensely. I held my breath, not sure what Hobs was going to do with it. Lopping it off seemed a little extreme, but I had no idea how faeries worked. After a moment, Hobs took the paw and shook it. The wolves went back to their laughing and bantering, pleased that they could play with their dinner. Bunch of animals.

"So," Hobs asked the wolves in a conversational tone. "Did you just happen on us, or did the hag send you?"

Glasses looked at him like he was missing some brain cells. "Of course she sent us. I think she misses you, actually."

"Oooooooh!" The chortling and snorting that followed the announcement didn't make it sound good.

Hobs wasn't ruffled. "Yeah, I'm sure every time she curses, my name's somewhere in there."

The wolves shared another laugh with him, but they didn't offer an explanation. I got frustrated. "So, what's your reward for _helping_ us get to the hag's place?" Hobs asked. The wolves fell silent. Hobs had effectively killed the moment, and true to form, he kept stabbing at it. "Medals? A free dinner with the nymphs?" So far, he hadn't hit the mark. "I know. She's throwing a party for you because she's so grateful for your help."

By now the wolves' heads were hanging. Gray—as I decided to call him—sullenly hit a tree with his paw as he passed. "No," he grumbled. "She's not doing any of that."

"Well, the old hag's got to be showing some gratitude for you? I mean, she's sending you all the way out here in the snow and the cold. What? It's like twenty minutes to the castle?" They avoided his gaze and I bit my lip. Hobs had found their sore spot; the wolves weren't appreciated like they deserved, though it seemed a little obvious that Hobs was working it. But watching the wolves, all I saw were disgruntled faces.

We trudged through another clearing, fighting through the deep snow with nowhere to run if given the chance. There had to be a way to get out of this, but before I could think of anything, we were back inside our crowded clump of trees. Birds chirped overhead, breaking the silence. Hobs lifted his shoulders. "Well, I'm sure she's doing something nice for you."

"Just drop it, okay?" Octavius said.

"You're right. She's not worth it. How about a game instead?" Hobs acted like he was doing the wolves a favor. "That's always a nice diversion. I know, try guessing our names, if you can."

"Guess your names?" Octavius eagerly picked up the change of subject. Gray snickered next to me.

What trick Hobs was playing now? I hoped it would work. His eyebrow sketched up at me. "Yeah, it's a riddle. Bet you can't do it." If I didn't know better, I'd say he was trying to tell me something in code.

"We know who you are for sure. Hobany," Glasses said. I half expected him to push his glasses further up his nose like the intellectual he was. "Then we have the child of . . . uh . . . _Oberon—_ for lack of a better name—and . . ." He glanced at the tiara wound over my head. "Her punk babysitter? We'll call her the keeper, for the sake of the game. How's that?"

Hobs smiled, slowing his steps to meet their eyes. "Nope to one of the guesses. The other two are spot on."

They looked intrigued. "Yes, but who has the wrong name?"

"Not telling. And if you can't guess, you have to let us go." When did Hobs start calling the shots?

The wolves were confused too. "What for?" Octavius sputtered.

Hobs threw his hands behind his back to stretch, acting casual, as if we weren't prisoners, but friends out for a jog. "Because if you don't guess now, I'll never tell you the answer. And _she_ won't tell you either."

"The hag?"

"It's a carefully guarded secret. I wish she trusted you more, but you know how it is."

The wolves' eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in thought. "I know. I know," Gray said. "It's _you_ we gave the wrong name—because you have so many. Puck, Robgoblin, Robin, Pixie . . ."

I laughed at the girly names. After a warning look at me, Hobs shook his head. "One name, even a euphemism—if it happens to be the right one—will do. I'm not tricking you this time."

Glasses squeezed his yellowed eyes shut, thinking hard. "So, who's not who they say they are? Oberon's child or the keeper?"

There was no way Hobs was telling them, and he grinned broadly. "Is it she?" Octavius pointed me out with his snout.

"Of the three you mentioned?" Hobs hesitated, drawing out the suspense on purpose. "Nope, you were right about her name."

Glasses gnawed on his lower lip. It seemed like it would hurt with those sharp fangs. "So, you're saying that your girlfriend either has your name, she's the daughter of Oberon, or she's the keeper?"

Hobs snickered. "Excellent deduction. She's one of the three names you guessed. Just admit it. You have no idea why you're wrong. Are you ready to let us go?"

By now Octavius was wearing a smirk, too. He wasn't about to give up. "But which one was right?"

"Nice try. I'm not saying a thing."

The happy dog grins turned downward. "Well, she doesn't have your name. We know that!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" The wolves snapped. They waited for Hobs to give them a clue, but from past experience, I knew they'd never get the satisfaction. They began to whine. "We're almost to the palace. Just tell us!"

"We are?" As if Hobs didn't already know. He lifted a hand to his eyes to block the light from the blinding snow. The spires of the castle rose over the forest like an elaborate ice sculpture. Nothing but magic could create such a thing. So much for letting us go if the wolves didn't get the right answer. Stupid wolves. I felt myself panic—I wouldn't surrender Babs to the hag. Hobs had to know that.

"Guess you're out of luck, boys," Hobs said. "You'll never know the answer." He threw in a careless rise of the shoulders.

Gray gave Octavius an anguished look. "C'mon, we've got ways of making them talk. We'll stay out here and freeze it out of them."

Octavius shivered. "We'll freeze too! And _she's_ expecting us."

Glasses added his argument to Gray's. "She doesn't know they're in the Sidhe yet. He's wearing that talisman—that'll cover up their tracks pretty good. The hag won't know the difference." He watched me accusingly like I was the one keeping the information back.

I seriously had no idea. I mean, sure, I was Babs' keeper, there was no mistaking that. But to be honest, I had no idea who Babs truly was, and Hobs? His name could be Rumpelstiltskin or Twinkle Toes for all I cared. We had more important things to think about, more immediate things, like escaping this hag.

The wolves growled amongst themselves. "We can't stay here any longer," Octavius said. "The hag always knows what happens in the Sidhe. If she finds out we're hiding the prisoners from her . . ."

"And what if she does?" Glasses snarled. "We don't get our fine steak dinner to show us the appreciation she never gives us? What a Cheltenham tragedy."

I kind of wanted to hear what the other wolves said to that, but Hobs was already leading Babs and me away into the soft snow, though not away from danger like I wanted. No, we were heading straight for _her_ place. The castle's spires sucked in the mist around it like a shield against invaders. I complained, but it wasn't satisfying in the least, since I had to keep it quiet. "What are you doing?" I hissed.

He glanced over his shoulder. "They'll never expect us to go this way."

"Why won't they? They're dogs. They'll sniff us out, or just follow our tracks in the snow. We're leading them straight to us!"

"There's a difference between book smart and street smart, and baby, they haven't been around the block—if you know what I mean." No! They seemed pretty intelligent to me. And so was I for that matter. Hobs couldn't do this to me again. He sighed as if reading my mind. "Wolves are easy to trick. All we have to do is act like complete idiots and already they've underestimated us."

Well, he was doing a _really_ good job of acting like an idiot, and if I listened to him, I'd be an even bigger one. "So, are you going to tell me?" I asked.

"What?" He dragged us further into the forest and closer to the castle.

I wrestled my hand from his. "Whose name did they get wrong?" Babs or Hobs . . . or me? _But that was stupid._ _I know who I am._ "If Babs isn't who you said she was . . . Well, you need to tell me everything. How else will I be able to help her?"

Hobs had on his half-smile again, the same one he used on the wolves. "If I told you, what would be the fun in that?" He dimpled at my outrage. "Ah c'mon, the wager doesn't even matter. I was just trying to confuse them so we could get away. And it worked. See?"

"You were just playing with them?"

"Play? No, I never play." He laughed when I made another face. "I'm telling the truth. I swear."

He was swearing. I should've known that meant more trouble. His fingers tangled through mine again, and without so much as an explanation, he led us straight for _her_ place.

# Chapter Thirteen

Around her throne, amid the mingling glooms,

Wild—hideous forms are slowly seen to glide;

She bids them fly to shade earth's brightest blooms,

And spread the blast of Desolation wide.

See! in the darkened air their fiery course!

The sweeping ruin settles o'er the land,

Terror leads on their steps with madd'ning force,

And Death and Vengeance close the ghastly band!

—Ann Radcliffe, _Superstition. An Ode._

We tore through the forest until we reached a clearing, then hesitated at the line of trees. There would be no covering out there. Crystals of snow had fallen over a field of vibrant-colored flowers. They hadn't wilted in the cold, which meant they had to be magic. Hobs hurried through the meadow, and we trailed after him, trampling through the colorful melee. The flowers screamed out in annoyance. "Ow! Ow!"

"Get off me!"

"Stop it!"

"Walk somewhere else, you oaf!"

"Wait!" I stopped short, once again able to slip my hand from Hobs' grip. "I think these things are alive."

"Don't worry. They're nothing but a bunch of Anthousai taking up flower form to brave out the winter, and they can't feel a thing. Believe me."

I wasn't so sure about that. I picked my way through, balancing on my toes to avoid crushing any more of them. I looked over at Babs. Her baby face was twisted in deep concentration as she attempted the same thing. "Babs, get on Hobs' back," I said.

Hobs laughed, but had no problem hoisting her up. She wrapped her short arms around his neck like a monkey. "Don't drop me, Hobsh" she warned him unnecessarily.

"You're the last one I'd drop, kid." He gave me a meaningful look that I made a point of ignoring. "Now, some girls put up such a fuss that you're tempted to drop them as soon as convenient. I'm too much of a gentleman for that. Well, right now, anyway."

I grimaced. He'd better not try to lose me out here. The wolves would catch up to us, no matter how socially inept Hobs thought they were, and I wanted to make sure I had someone to hide behind.

I tiptoed past a tiger lily. It opened crazed eyes. "Beware!"

"Danger!" a gardenia hissed.

"Oh, what do you know?" Hobs asked. "Have you ever fought a war? No, you always hide behind your petals when there's trouble." He rolled his eyes at me. "Don't listen to them—bunch of pansies!"

"What kind of trouble?" I asked. "How come they keep saying 'beware'?"

"Watch it, Hobs!" an aster cried, shaking the snow off its head. "You're headed the wrong way!"

"How do you know where we want to go?" Hobs asked.

"Beware!"

"They're saying it again," I said.

Before Hobs could reassure me, he flopped dramatically to the soft snow. Babs toppled over him with a startled cry. The Skittles scattered into the white powder. "Now that," he said with his voice smothered against the ground, "was completely uncalled for."

It wasn't long before I figured out what he was talking about. A flower reached up with veined leaves and twisted over my clunky boots, tripping me to the snow next to him. My head collided with Hobs' with a sickening crunch. I groaned and met the eyes of an angry daisy.

"Where are you headed?" it demanded.

"We don't have time for this." Hobs struggled to get up, but the flowers held him tightly. Apparently, they were sticklers for manners.

"Just tell them where we're going!" I couldn't fight free, and I gave him an accusing look. "Or do we even _know_ where we're going?"

"Why don't you tell me," Hobs said. "In case you don't know what I'm talking about—try following your heart. Guess what? You have one now. The faery queen jump-started it before you came."

I stared at him. Before I could decipher his meaning, I heard a howl in the distance. Babs gasped. I found her hand through the flowers and squeezed it. "It's going to be okay, baby girl." She nodded, but her eyes were closed as if not seeing the wolves would make them go away. I twisted to Hobs. "What are you talking about? I'm not supposed to be the leader."

"Is that what you think I'm trying to tell you?" He looked amused in a harsh way, but there was nothing funny about this. The wolves were gaining ground, and we had nothing to defend ourselves with except a bunch of Skittles and whiny flowers—a rainbow of color in the dust of snow that gave our position away.

To make things worse, the flowers were blabbing loudly about our sins amongst themselves. It wouldn't be long now before we lost all the ground we had gained. If Hobs wanted me to do something, he'd better give up the riddles and give it to me straight.

Babs thrust her swirly toy at me through the complaining flowers. "What ish it?" she asked me. I grappled with the toy, but she wouldn't let it go. The mirror was no longer cloudy. I saw her mother in a flurry of frost and skirts. Her long blonde hair whipped over her face—just three shades lighter than Babs'. Now that we were in faeryland, we saw what _we_ wanted to see in the toy, and the kid must be missing her mother. With a sinking feeling, I knew that the faery queen wasn't coming for us anytime soon. She pounded her fists against a thick prison of ice. It spread over the walls of her castle, sealing everything shut until she was trapped in its frozen cage.

"Hobs!" I pointed to Babs' toy in her tightly clenched hand.

His jaw tightened when he saw it. "The hag's getting too strong. We have to defeat her if we want to free our friends." The howls in the distance were getting closer. Soon we would be trapped too. "Don't worry," he said. "It will take them days to digest you. We'll think of a way out by then."

"How can you possibly think that makes me feel any better, Hobs?"

"I don't."

The wolves loped over the snowcapped meadow. They let out howls of rage. I ducked further into the flowerbed. "Who are you hiding from?" an aster asked with a much-too-innocent expression. Hobs tried to get to the flower, but he couldn't reach it in time. "Hey!" the aster called out gleefully to the wolves. "You looking for somebody? Over here!"

Hobs elbowed it in the face and I wasn't a bit sorry. I turned to the daisy and matched its glare. Somehow it read my look and its grip slackened on me. Babs broke free. Before I could stop her, she was on her feet. The wolves caught sight of the diminutive seven-year-old. They bared their teeth. "Well, looky what we got here, boys—it's a Hostess snacky. We're in business!"

Hobs tugged me out of the flowerbed. "We can outrun them!" That seemed impossible, but at this point I was willing to try anything. Hobs dragged Babs with us.

"It's Oberon's baby, isn't it?" the wolves shouted at our backs. "She's the name we got wrong!"

I tried not to slow at that. Was it true? Was Babs not who everyone said she was? Who told me she was a princess anyway? Was it Hobs? Even so, her mother called Babs her baby, and wasn't she a queen?

I listened to the snapping and snarling of the wolves rushing after us. It cleared everything else from my mind. "What are you doing?" Glasses' cultured voice drifted behind us through the yowling. He was lecturing the other wolves. "You're not eating, are you?"

"No!" another wolf growled defensively. It sounded like Gray.

"Yes, you are. What do you have there? Give me that!"

Hobs clucked his tongue at the sight. "Never feed the animals." By now the wolves had descended on the Skittles, fighting for a taste of the sugary concoction. I could barely believe that stopped them. "Told you we'd outrun them." Hobs sped down the frozen slope, and we followed. Snow shot out behind our feet.

"Don't even pretend you planned that," I yelled after him. Hobs tugged the rest of the Skittles out of the backpack and dumped them, leaving a telltale trail behind us. He was playing Hansel and Gretel with the wolves. It left us with nothing to eat; not that it was substantial to begin with, but it was the closest thing that we had—correction— _I_ had to food. My tiara buzzed the rule through my head: _The Otherworldly can't eat faery food. It's forbidden._ My heart raced at the danger. "I can't eat your food. It's forbidden!"

"Well, I guess that gives us a reason to work a little faster."

"Or I die?"

"Just stay away from the apples. You remember what happened to that other black-haired chick, right?"

"You said it was a rule. This isn't like Hades where I eat your food and have to stay here forever, is it? I like my life at home!"

I slipped, and he grabbed my elbow, keeping me upright. It gave me a close up of his mischievous dark eyes. "That's because you've never really lived yet," he said.

My mouth dropped. How long could I go without food? Two days? That was my time limit before I had to return Babs to her mother. I couldn't last that long. We headed over the hill. The castle lay in the valley below us, covered in frost. I wasn't sure if it was made of white stone or ice or poisoned gingerbread like a proper witch's house. Hopefully I wouldn't find out the hard way because I was starving.

I still had Babs' toy in my hand, and I lifted it. The queen appeared as soon as I thought of her. She stared out a window caked with ice, her hands clasped in front of her. Maybe I had a chance of survival if she was a prisoner here? If we found her right away, I wouldn't starve. I studied the stone walls of her castle—they were marbled and gray. Then I compared it to the ones we were heading for. The ivory spires were polished and tipped with gold; they weren't the same. "Babs' mother isn't here, Hobs. Why are we going this way?"

"It's safer taking a shortcut through the hag's lawn. That's why. No way am I going through nymph territory to get to the faery queen. I'm sorry."

What? Now he hated nymphs? I thought nymphs were supposed to be cute, diminutive creatures who loved the wilderness—a cut above an evil hag. "What's so bad about nymphs?"

"Nymphs are bad. They party all day long. They're always eating and drinking and getting merry and dancing."

"Yeah, but compared to a witch . . ."

"Oh, did I forget the worst part? They have love potions."

"So instead of turning you into a frog, they can make you fall in love with someone? Sounds life-threatening."

"You might fall in love with someone horrible . . ."

I stared at Hobs, only now realizing that actually _could_ be pretty bad. A little sprinkle from above, and— "They could make me fall in love with you?" I finished the thought aloud, I was so appalled.

Hobs broke into a smile. "Well, I was actually thinking of worse things."

"Really? Like torture, maybe? Still, there's got to be some other way besides trespassing through the hag's backyard. I . . ." Before I could finish what I was going to say, I started to hum. Weird. I had a song stuck in my head, but why was I humming it when I was trying to talk? Hobs gave me a strange look, and I felt a shock run through me. Wait. The song wasn't in my head—it was in the air. It was pretty catchy. I felt myself nodding to it. Babs skipped to the rhythm.

"Oh, no you don't! Cover your ears!" Hobs had me by the arm, almost carrying the both of us in his panic. "It's the nymphs. Humans can't resist their music. Neither can faeries, for that matter. Babs, cover your ears. Do it!"

Cover my ears? That was the last thing I wanted to do. No, I wanted to sing along. Hobs shouted out a clashing song, letting go of us long enough to pull out cotton from our backpack. "Put this in your ears." I wasn't sure what good that would do. The song was already in my head and I couldn't get it out. I loved it!

The tiara rang a warning through my ears: _If you hear the music of the faeries, run._

"Told you nymphs were horrible," Hobs said between his frantic clash-singing. They were having a party by the borders—I could hear the laughter all the way from here. Despite the warnings screaming through my head, I wanted to join them. I grabbed Babs' hands and swung her through the air. She giggled and we twirled faster and faster, our feet making wild patterns in the snow. The wolves howled in the distance, and I couldn't bring myself to care.

I felt Hobs' strong arms behind me. He tugged me back and forced the cotton into my ears. Poor Babs was next to suffer the same treatment. I collapsed next to her in the snow, breathing hard.

The keep of drifted snow was our only sanctuary. The music was muffled, but I could still hear it, and I reached for it, wanted it. Babs tried to wriggle free, and Hobs grabbed for her wrist. As soon as he went for her, I dashed past him, pumping my arms and stomping through the snow as if my life depended on reaching the music. It was all I ever wanted.

Hobs pushed Babs in a snow-bank and caught me by the waist, swinging me around. His lip curled with the effort of keeping me back. "Listen to me!" he cried through the music. "Stop it! Listen to me!"

_If you hear the music of the faeries, run. If you hear the music of the faeries, run._ It ran through my head, but I didn't want to listen. I wanted the music. It was addicting. He watched me with pleading eyes, his face just inches from mine. "It will kill you! You've got to stop now! You'll dance to death."

It would kill me! I tried to care, or at least force myself to survive. I took a deep breath and hummed something else to block out the sound. It was exhausting. Hobs had me in a bruising grip, but released one of my arms to scoop Babs out of the snow. He herded us toward the hag's forbidding castle. It was surrounded by an aura of brilliant lights— _northern lights in the west?_ Everything was wrong here.

The nymphs picked up the partying with renewed vigor. It was exciting and captivating all at once. Hobs shoved us forward, his hand at our backs. "Run! Run as if your life depends on it, because it does!" We broke into a sprint just to escape the sound of music. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the sheer torture of not dancing.

The closer we came to the ice castle, the stiller the air. As soon as we stepped into the hallowed courtyards, the sound cut off. Even the birds fell silent. The castle was like a beautiful, intimidating woman. Nothing dared touch it but age.

Hobs plucked the cotton from his ears and signaled me to do the same. " _She_ doesn't allow music here." He panted for breath. ". . . never thought I'd be glad of that."

It was an ice cave in here. I leaned down to catch my breath, watching as Hobs wandered the frozen entryway with Babs. I grew still when I looked up and saw myself stare back at me about a hundred times. "I'm guessing she allows mirrors," I said. They lined the endless corridors like a Stonehenge fun house. What would an ugly hag want with so many? Babs pulled forward in her faery costume, looking into one of them. Hobs jerked her back.

I glanced over, and he shrugged. "You can't tell me that after all this, you trust a mirror?" he asked. He was right, I didn't, but he was also talking too fast, which made me suspicious. We followed him through the length of the courtyard to where it opened up again, letting in the bright Sidhe sky. He pointed to the valley below. "The biggest mirror is out there," he said.

The sight below the icy crags was enough to erase everything else from my mind. The cliff edge separated us from an army that looked like a swarm of snow bees, more numerous than the snowflakes that floated over our heads. If these soldiers caught us, we'd be dead.

"We call that the Mirror of Reason." Hobs edged out, showing me the frozen lake that had broken into thousands of ice forms; they looked almost human. "There are rumors of what's under that ice—nasty things that we don't have to worry about unless the place melts—and standing on all _those_ nasty things are a whole lot of other nasty things; _her_ army. See them?"

Every detail, which was strange from this distance—it had to be an enchantment. Beasts and ethereal waifs wandered amongst the statues as if mingling at a party for the rich and famous. "They're the worst kind of rabble," Hobs said. "The Bendith y Mamau, the Ellyllon, the Tylwyth Teg. That's what makes up the Unseelie court. Their numbers have grown since last I saw them."

They made a misfit army of the pretty and the ugly, dressed in furs and silks and boots and armor. Some were barefoot on the ice. Others hovered in the air. Some were so heavy they sank deep into the ground. They ranged from fairly normal to green, purple, and furry. Compared to them, I didn't feel like a freak at all.

Hobs put his arm around Babs to keep her close. "We have to keep an eye on her. They're baby snatchers."

"She's hardly a baby anymore."

"They're not that picky. They'll suck every last ounce of youth out of her." His worried look passed over her to me. "Who knows? They might like you too."

I gulped, and tried to tell myself it couldn't be that bad. "What about you, Hobs? Don't you think they'll want a piece of you, then?"

"They don't want anything to do with me." Hobs ducked behind a rock, tugging us with him when a giant of a man stormed past _her_ army. The giant could be nothing less than the hag's general in all that armor. He had a patch over one eye. The good eye impatiently scoured the ranks of soldiers. "He's allergic to humans," Hobs breathlessly recounted. "Keep out of the wind. He starts sneezing and we're done for."

The giant strutted to a cluster of ice sculptures directly below us. A half-witted troll got in his way, and the giant's eye rolled back until it showed only his . . . reds (not his whites). The rusty membrane glowed with such an intense inner light that the blaze building inside him could no longer be contained. It shot out at the clumsy troll, zapping the poor thing across the lake. None of the other faeries looked surprised. They merely stepped aside to let the thing slide past in a burst of flames and smoke.

"He's got an eye on him! Can you imagine what the guy could do with two?" Hobs yanked the black beanie down further over his blonde hair. It was now a familiar gesture as he reworked his plans. "I didn't know he still ran the place."

"Who?"

"Cyclops."

"Ah, yeah, one eye. Of course."

" _I_ call him that." Hobs kept his voice neutral. I think he was trying to keep Babs from getting scared. "His name is . . ." Hobs stopped himself from saying the unthinkable with a laugh. "Don't worry about it." I hunted through the group for one person in particular. "Where is the hag?" Hobs extracted a kaleidoscope from his backpack. He squinted through it.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "That's a kaleidoscope."

"I have to find out which snowflake she's hiding in. It's all in the colors really." He adjusted the kaleidoscope to his liking. "There she is." He drew the kaleidoscope from his eye and pointed to the air a little above the heads of some tree monster with faces webbed over with branches. "Meet the worst hag in the kingdom, my friend."

I caught sight of a tiny snowflake floating above the army's heads, and got ready. It fanned out into an elegant sparkly dress and began to form into a female. Her arms took shape, then her neck, followed by the face of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She sparkled from the top of her lustrous midnight-black hair to the tip of her blue slippers. A frosty maiden made entirely of ice. She was young and vibrant.

Babs propped her elbows on the drifted snow next to us. "She'sh pretty."

Trust Hobs to make things anti-climactic. "She's the hag, huh?" I asked him. "Yeah, I can see it. She really looks like one."

"Sure, she's beautiful," Hobs said irritably. "Like Venus, she's beautiful." That was probably why she liked all those mirrors. I felt the tension release from my body; she didn't seem so bad. "Oh no, you don't." Hobs read me like a book. "Don't let her fool you. Close your eyes and listen to her voice."

Both Babs and I obeyed, listening to the silky tones as she addressed her entranced minions. "My friends! My allies! All are welcome. Now is the day of liberation! Today is the day . . ."

I opened my eyes to give Hobs an accusing look as she continued her rousing speech. "She has a beautiful voice, too."

"Look into her eyes if you don't believe me. Even from this distance, nothing can hide the coldness in them."

I expected to find nothing. I couldn't exactly see her eyes, but after concentrating, I could feel them glittering menacingly, and I shivered. There was no warmth in her. It was hauntingly familiar. The next second, her cackle convinced me. It was the same evil thing I'd heard in the theater, and as she talked, her silky tones turned vicious. "The princess of abundance is here in the Sidhe. We will find her . . . and finish her!" I started in fear and rage. _Yeah, she pretty much is an ugly hag._ Poor Babs!

The ogres jumped up, clapping their hands. They were half-rotting animals, off-green in pukish tones of yellow, and clad in hardly anything at all. They cheered like high schoolers at a jamboree. "Eat children. Eat children!" I almost expected Daphne to do a double flip through their ranks in a cheerleading outfit. Since they were ogres, it wasn't long before they messed the chant up. "Children eat! Children eat!"

I tried to think of a way to get past them, turning to Hobs. "Well, they don't seem very smart."

"At least that." Hobs smoothed down Babs' fuzzy hair that had loosened from her pigtails, his hand covering most of her face. She shivered, her shoulder pressing into my arm. "It's okay, baby," he told her. "I've got your back."

The hag hovered over the mounds of snow until she found perch on a patch of ground. A large stone jutted out behind her like a grave marker. She was well guarded. Two redheaded waifs dressed in leather and fur stood on either side of her. Behind them were tough-looking dwarves in dark sunglasses. Magic poured between them in a type of forcefield.

With a heart-wrenching cry, the hag raised her holly-covered staff, and it all melted into a puddle in her palm. Giving it a few encouraging words, she wove a spell over it, and we watched it reassemble into ice crystals building over each other until it formed into a perfect mirror of ice. She held the handle and stared intently into it with all the drama conjured up by an evil witch.

Hobs glared at her, his breathing forced, his expression full of pain and rage. I had never seen him this way. When he noticed me, he masked it with a lesser look of disgust. "That mirror's dangerous. You know she got it from some demon faery named Peerifool?"

"What does she see in it?"

"A fair maiden." He gave me a hard smile and nudged me. "Yeah, she's pretty vain. You know—mirror, mirror, on the wall?" I wasn't buying it, and he gave me the usual lift of the shoulders. "It distorts everything. It reflects bad as good, and good as bad."

"Ssecnirp eht si erehw?" the hag chanted into the mirror.

"And now she's talking to it. She's a little crazy." Of course Hobs was leaving out all the good stuff, like what was she was saying to it and who exactly was she talking to? All I knew was that the hag had some evil stepmother syndrome.

"Why does the hag want Babs?" I asked.

"The princess is the only one who can stop her. She's next in line to rule the Sidhe. It's her destiny. One's winter, the other's summer, and the hag must relinquish her rule to summer, no matter how much she hates the queen."

"The hag wants it to be winter forever?"

Hobs had on his guarded look again. "Winter's just a side effect here. The hag now rules through brute force, but the faery princess is the true sovereign of the Sidhe. She's the hope of this kingdom. Summer passes her powers, along with her destiny, on to her successor, to our poor little princess, a faery far too weak to fight winter or any of the other beasts after her."

"So." I studied Babs, who looked and thought like a seven-year-old in human years, but might be our age because of some horrible enchantment. "In order for our little princess to have enough power against winter, she just needs to grow up a little?"

Hobs smiled slowly. "Yeah, you've got it."

Judging by the look on his face I knew I was off. So, I had to trust that Hobs knew what he was talking about, and not only that, but trust that he wasn't purposely leading me astray.

By now the ogres were chasing each other around the frozen lake, talking about children eating. The smarter part of the hag's army watched them with disdain. The redheaded waif slid an arrow from her quiver, but the hag just shook her head—shooting the dumb lugs down would lower morale. The hag turned back to her mirror and waited. When nothing happened, she stomped her dainty little foot against the ice. She wasn't having any luck, which was good since we were the ones she was looking for.

Hobs' hand left the talisman around his neck. "We need weapons." His eyes were on the pretty little redhead. I didn't believe he was going for weapons at all—this had something to do with her. "Wait here."

"You're just going to leave us? Are you serious?"

_Apparently, yes._ Hobs was halfway down the slope, the snow jetting out under his feet as he went. "Get behind one of those mirrors if there's trouble," he whispered harshly up to us. "Everyone's so busy looking at themselves that no one thinks to look behind them."

What was he going to do? Steal weapons from the more half-witted of these beasts? If he was as notorious as the wolves said, anybody would recognize him. Babs and I watched Hobs sneak down to the army below. As soon as he reached them on the icy lake, he straightened up and walked brazenly through them. He met a few eyes, nodding like he belonged there. No one seemed to care. The Cyclops scanned the crowds. I was afraid he would catch sight of Hobs. I'd be amazed if he didn't, but then again, Hobs didn't look like he was trying to hide, either.

Claws on paws scuttled over the ice behind us, and my stomach dove to my feet. The wolves! How could Hobs leave us behind like this? Wait—of course he would. He was a thoughtless fanatic. I wrapped my hand around Babs' arm and ran. She gave a little yelp as soon as she realized why. The wolves snorted behind us. We skidded over the ice to the nearest mirror as millions of wolves swarmed into the hall in different directions—at least, that's what it looked like through the mirrors.

I dragged Babs behind one, throwing myself in front of her. She whimpered. "Shh shh, it's okay." I hugged her tightly, rubbing her arms to stop her shaking.

"There you are!" Octavius shouted.

I caught Babs' gaze with my own and put a finger to my lips. Octavius would've seen millions of us who had just disappeared behind millions of mirrors. The trick was keeping the millions of us hidden. We scooted further back, trying to scrunch up as small as possible.

The wolves sniffed around. " _Behind a mirror of lies she hides. Her soul within her withers and dies._ " More bad poetry from Glasses.

"All we want to know is the answer to the riddle," Octavius wheedled. "Then we'll let you go."

"Yeah, tell us," Gray whined.

"Don't waste your time. I don't think she knows," Glasses said. I knew it was a challenge. "Why would Hobs tell her?" They laughed. They knew Hobs wasn't with me. Had they not seen millions of him, or did he just always leave damsels in distress behind? "He tells you nothing, does he?" I stayed silent, listening to them prowl around the mirrors and press their snouts against the glass, grunting. "Where _did_ he go, I wonder?"

They were trying to get a reaction from me. I made a zipper motion across my lips. Babs nodded, but I could hear her breathing hard. I hugged her close. She was just as scared as I was.

"Is he turning you in to the hag's armies? Or is he planning something else for you?" The others chortled at Octavius' words.

"I can guess what he wants with you," Gray said. My head lifted. What?

"He's not your knight in shining armor, little girl. He wouldn't save a child for nothing. He's got a lot at stake." Octavius was lying! _Right?_ The faery queen had sent Hobs to help us. That was a good enough reason to believe he was on our side. "Oh, yes," Octavius growled under his breath. "He told us the truth when we found him at the faery transporter. He was already taking you to _her_." A mirror cracked when he pounded impatiently against it. "He didn't need us to take you to the witch's lair. You came so willingly. Your mistake."

I pushed my face into my arms to keep silent. Hobs was tricking them, not us.

"Why don't you just come out?" Glasses said. "Don't let him have the satisfaction of collecting the reward for you."

"Yeah, let us do it!" Gray piped up with excitement.

Babs pressed her face against my shoulder, her blonde hair catching the lights from the torches above us. I squeezed her hand to keep her from lashing out, but it was getting harder and harder not to speak out myself, especially since it seemed like we were in for it no matter what.

"So, where is he now?" Glasses asked.

A gray snout sniffed the glass between us and I could feel the warm breath against my leg. Gray was close. I expected him to chomp off my foot at any second. One more inch and we'd be his. "Betcha he told you to wait here while he fetched supplies."

"Yeah, I did."

_Hobs!_ He came back! I was so relieved. Gray howled in pain. I listened to the following thunk, and the mirror cracked between us. He fell against it. We scrambled out into the open, seeing an arrow protruding through Gray's tail. Gray turned on us with a snarl, and we stumbled back from him, running as fast as our legs could carry us. "Hobs!" I couldn't find the real one in all his reflections.

Octavius found us instead. He snapped his fangs at us and I kicked his snout hard. He yelped and I twisted backwards, not able to get away. The tiara over my head rang, and I knew I was in for another freak-out moment. Octavius came for us again. I knocked a mirror between us, and he rammed into it, shattering it between us. Hobs pulled another arrow from the quiver, the same one that belonged to that redheaded waif. The wolves' accusations against him wouldn't leave my head, but I had to forget about that to survive.

Octavius sprang over the broken mirror, his sharp teeth bared, and stopped short with a howl of pain. An arrow jutted out from his tail. He glared at Hobs. Glasses snickered lazily behind him, not attempting to join his less-than-clever friends—we all knew Hobs played mean. Octavius rolled away with a whimper. "I see you got your arrows back!" The wolf got a hold of the arrow with his sharp teeth and tugged it out, yelping in pain.

"You like them?" Hobs said in a conversational tone. "They can pierce any hide."

"Then why bother with ours?" Gray joined Octavius in the icy hall to lick his matching wounds.

Hobs put down his bow, watching me. "Did you figure out my riddle yet?"

"I've got an inkling," Glasses said, his eyes on Babs. "The baby ain't the Faery King's? That's why she's not _Oberon's_ child."

Hobs grinned.

Octavius licked his tail. "You the father?"

Hobs let out a hoot of laughter. "You're way off, you dogs. The princess is the real thing. You're never going to guess it." Looking nervously behind him, Hobs edged away from the entrance hall. "Girls!" He included the wolves in that statement. "I think you'll need to run."

I smelled the stink of rot moments before a group of hairy ogres barged into the ice cave. They ducked under the high-arched ceilings. A few didn't duck in time and got knocked out immediately. The shorter of them swung vicious-looking clubs around the room. "Children eat! Children eat!" they repeated, not in time or sync to anything.

I hid Babs behind me, feeling like we were caught in a stampede of buffalos—really smelly ones. They swung at everything that moved. The wolves scrambled to their paws. The ogres came at them, too, since they were too dumb to figure out who was on their side. I felt a hand on my shoulder and barely had time to turn before Hobs dragged us away from the commotion. "They followed me," he said as a way of explanation.

"Let me guess—you led them here on purpose?" He gave me a strange look, but I cut him off before he could give me some flippant remark to throw off my suspicions. "How are we supposed to stop these big guys?"

"You don't. They'll do it to themselves." The ogres hit at the ground, some of them smashing their own feet or their neighbor's. Clubs were dropped or used against each other while they shouted out their vengeance. They grabbed each others' throats in chokeholds. By now the wolves had clambered to a safer distance. I tried to back up, but Hobs wouldn't let me. "Don't move," he shouted. "They hit anything that moves."

"So they're blind! How's their smell?"

"They smell awful. It overpowers everything else. That's why they're so crazy."

That was not what I meant. I kept my breathing shallow, looking into the mirror in front of me. Babs was gone! Where was she? I whipped around and accidentally bopped her in the head. My yelp carried along with hers. She had been behind me the whole time, but she wasn't in the mirror. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

Glasses stood in an alcove above us. "Wait." His yellow eyes slanted. "I know the answer to that riddle." A passing fist from an ogre knocked him against a mirror, and the glass splintered. He rolled away in agony. I cried out, not sure whether I should help him.

Hobs tugged us away. He dropped down on one knee to fire off a few arrows to keep the ogres back, but it wouldn't work for long. They grunted at the impact and grappled with the arrows sticking from their flesh, which only served to pound them in harder. I flinched with disgust and fear. They had us surrounded and were too stupid to feel pain. And now they had reinforcements. Something hideous lumbered up behind them, foul and decaying. It was worse than any monster I had ever seen . . . wait, actually, no. I had seen this one before. Bugul.

His image was duplicated millions of times in all those mirrors, and we fell back as one. The ogres and wolves screamed out and scurried away. My knees got weak, but I resisted the urge to follow after the wolves. I tried to comfort Babs instead. I shouldn't have bothered—she smiled her toothy grin at Bugul and waved like a mini-Daphne.

The room echoed the silence of a battle's aftermath. A few ogres lay face-down on the ground. Everyone else had deserted us after taking one look at Bugul. Hobs let out a relieved breath. "I never thought I'd say this, Bugul, but I'm really glad to see you."

If the look Bugul gave him was anything to go by, the sentiment wasn't returned. We had been the ones to desert him; it seemed useless to tell him that it was entirely Hobs' fault.

Hobs walked off to rip out more arrows from the fallen ogres, slipping slightly on the ice. Bugul followed him with tight fists. Hobs was in for it. The wolves were long gone. Bugul had nowhere to turn his wrath except on Hobs, who didn't seem to care. After waving his arms and getting no reaction, Bugul gave a long and ragged sigh. I knew the feeling—lecturing Hobs was never satisfying.

Hobs wiped the green blood from the last of his gathered arrows. "I suppose you're going to say I told you so." Hobs waited for Bugul's answer, but when the goblin didn't speak, Hobs couldn't resist. "Oh yeah, I forgot your vow. Guess you can't."

# Chapter Fourteen

Sound of the calm wave on the beach,

pure shadowing tree of pure music,

carousals are drunk in your company,

voice of the swan over shining streams.

Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler,

no melody can match you

—Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh, _The Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair_

"Forget it!" Hobs pulled away from Bugul, giving him a dark look. "It's the most dangerous territory in the Sidhe and you know it! We're not trespassing there."

Bugul and Hobs had been arguing since we left the ice castle, which seemed like a pretty hard thing to do considering that Bugul didn't have a voice, but they managed quite well. From what I gathered, Bugul wanted to take his chances with the nymphs and cross their territory to get to the faery queen, but Hobs, as usual, wanted nothing to do with them.

Bugul made a fist and grunted out another argument that no one but Hobs seemed to understand. Hobs gave a frustrated sigh, glaring at the forest around us. The leaves glowed green under the dust of snow as if lit from below. Despite the cloudy day, the branches filtered the light into a spattering of speckles over our faces.

Hobs' eyes rested on my confused face, and he surprised us—most especially Bugul—with a pleasant expression; it held a hint of devil. "Fine. Okay. You win, Bugul—we'll cross Crystal Lake. It's probably frozen over by now, but that's okay. We'll walk across it if we have to."

Bugul grunted out his opposition. Now instead of fighting him, Hobs was putting words into his mouth. Even I could tell Bugul didn't want to go to Crystal Lake. "What? No!" Hobs looked shocked. "Bugul, we can't swim across. We could drown. Be reasonable."

"Uh-uh," Bugul got out. It was an obvious no.

Hobs helpfully supplied Bugul with yet more reasons for his resistance, "Steal a boat? Well, I guess if you want."

"Uh-uh," Bugul grunted with more force.

"Oh, just borrow it? Okay, we'll take it from the nymphs, although for the record I'm shocked you would suggest such a thing."

"Uh-uh!" Bugul shook his fist for emphasis.

"It's not very honest—that's why I'm shocked. Borrowing without asking is usually called stealing." By now, Hobs was trying not to laugh outright. The goblin had gone scarlet with rage. "But we'll do it." He reserved an apologetic look for me. "Bugul is a daredevil. I hope you're okay with that."

Bugul spun from us to pace the snowy clearing by the trees. I couldn't understand why he didn't storm off, but the two must be better friends than I thought. Bugul gestured with a meaty fist for me to follow him. I gawked, not sure what he meant to do. He made muttering sounds, and I left Hobs to investigate. I couldn't figure out what Bugul was trying to tell me until he gave a sigh of impatience and drew something in the snow. Babs and I stared over his shoulder at his artwork. He poked some holes in the white powder and made a squiggly mark around them. "Is it a map?" I asked. He nodded. Hobs leaned over it too, and Bugul pushed him back roughly. "What's the squiggly?" I asked.

"A snake?" Hobs guessed. Bugul stopped his drawing to glare at him.

"Crystal Lake?" I asked. I tried to warm my hands against Babs' neck. She smiled up at me. Bugul watched us with a piercing look, then nodded again. "Then what are the dots?" I asked. This time Hobs stayed silent, his lip curled up. "A forest?" I guessed. Bugul shook his head. "Villages? Houses? Cottages? Condos?" Bugul was about to shake his head off. He made bigger pokey marks in the squiggly line as if _that_ made things clearer. Was there something in the water? "Alligators?" I asked. "Crocodiles?"

I was closer this time. Bugul got excited and acted out combing seriously long hair. Babs laughed.

"Oh great, we're back to the nymphs again." Hobs threw his hands up. "I thought we were past that."

I circled on Hobs, knowing he was trying to throw us off. The wind picked up, chilling me from my scalp to my numb toes. We didn't have time for games. "Take it back."

"What?"

"Take it back! Your curse. It's stupid. Make it so he can talk again!"

Hobs hesitated. "I'd love to, but it's a time dependent spell. It only wears off."

"Then what's he really trying to say? Answer me that. You're keeping something from us and I want to know what!"

Hobs gave in with a shrug. "He's trying to warn you about the Merrow. He'd rather face the nymphs than them."

Bugul sagged in relief.

That was it? "I don't understand why you're so against nymphs, besides their music and all. How can Merrow possibly be less scary?"

"The Merrow are green with razor-sharp teeth, and the nymphs will grant you your every wish." Hobs acted like that was worse.

"So?"

"You don't want that." He looked stern.

The cold Sidhe wind ran through my hair. I hopped up and down in the snow to ward off the chill. "You want to know what my first wish to the nymphs will be? Huh? To be warm! Maybe I'll ask for some earmuffs too—something crazy like that!"

"Are you serious? We're almost to the faery queen's, and that's what you want?" Hobs' gaze slid over my clothes, and then he looked over at Babs and let out a sigh. "You'll never pass as a nymph in that outfit." I stopped dancing around in the snow. Was he going to follow Bugul's advice? He would trespass nymph territory? Hobs mussed the top of Babs' hair. The poor girl was drowning in his jacket with my Midsummer Dream's costume, which made me wonder what my shadow was wearing for the play at home. I tried not to think about it.

"Maybe if you had packed us some real clothes," I said. "I wouldn't be throwing away my wishes on something warm."

Hobs ignored me, tapping Babs' forehead with his finger. Her costume lost its wings and pulled into Babs' tiny frame. The skirt became little khaki pants and the ballerina top turned into a pink-striped sweater. A long white coat layered over her, replacing Hobs' oversized jacket. Her hands grew matching mittens. Soon she was wearing fur-trimmed boots. She looked warm and absolutely adorable.

"Did you really just—?" My lips trembled with the cold that he could've alleviated with a mere tap of his fingers. "What else can you do that you haven't been telling me about?"

"That's it. I'm just the brave little tailor who could."

Bugul snorted in derision. I felt the same way. _What a liar!_ "And you couldn't go brave little tailor on us sooner? I'm about to freeze to death!"

"Oh, c'mon, you just think you are. We're _in_ the Sidhe after all! Besides, I only have so much Fringe power on reserve, and you want me to waste it all on clothes?"

I gave him my best pleading eyes, and after a moment of resisting, he growled out a complaint and tapped my head. Soon I was wearing go-go boots with lots of black hair toppling over my head—completely covering the tiara I wore. I looked like a sixties dancer and I _wasn't_ any warmer, especially my legs. "There," he said. "You'll fit in perfectly with the nymphs now!"

I tugged at my skirt. "I refuse to believe that your nymph friends are stuck in the sixties!"

"It's disturbing how well you know me." Before he could change me back—and I could only give him the benefit that he had every intention of doing so—twinkling wisps of balled-up light looking suspiciously like Christmas tree ornaments flitted through the air toward us. More oozed from the frosty trees, making the leaves lose their glow. "It isn't too late to run," Hobs told Bugul. The goblin stubbornly stood his ground.

"Surprise!" I heard tiny voices shout. We were surrounded by the beautiful little things. It was like they had been waiting for us to join their big faery bash. "Oh, he's back! He's back!" the faeries shrieked as soon as they recognized Hobs. "Hip, hip, hurray!"

"So much for sneaking past quietly," Hobs said through the cheering voices. One by one, the nymphs grew tall enough to touch the ground. For the record, they didn't _look_ like little sixties girls. They were elegant and perfect in slinky, form-fitting dresses in every hue imaginable. And they looked _very_ happy to see Hobs. He didn't bother to hide the fact that he didn't return the sentiment. "Wow, we just stumbled on the most annoying place in all the land. I'm so happy."

I elbowed him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Look at them; they're just so . . . beautiful."

They giggled, completely entranced by his un-charming ways. Sure, Hobs was hot, but then, I had always assumed he was tricking my human senses because he was a faery. But these glamour dolls were all over him. Some of them had already slipped their hands into the crook of his arm and were batting their eyelashes wildly. "Hi, Hobany!"

My eyebrows went up. Hobs forced a gallant smile, as if knowing what had to be done. He pushed away from me and turned on his act. "Hi, girls! Glistenda, Sparkle, Bubbles . . . missed you too." His pleasant front was a little too good, and they wilted in delight.

"Take off that terrible cap," a nymph sang sweetly, stealing the black beanie from his head. "It covers your glorious hair." She ran her fingers through his blond hair, trying to put some order to it, but it was an impossible task. With an annoyed glance, Hobs tried to disentangle their hands, but they held tightly to him—he must have escaped them before.

"We've been waiting for you," the one called Glistenda cooed. She was a tall blonde with white, almost transparent skin that glowed with an inner light. Her eyes roved over Babs and dismissed her as too young for competition, but finding me, she bristled possessively. "He's way out of your league," she sneered. "He's a prince, you know."

"A prince of what?" I asked. "Darkness?"

The others giggled. Hobs rolled his eyes, as if trying to pass the claim off as ridiculous, which instantly made me suspicious. He _was_ a prince, wasn't he? What did that mean here? What else wasn't he telling me?

"Who is _she_?" Glistenda glared at me.

Before Hobs could answer, Sparkle had Hobs by the neck of his shirt, rubbing the back of his head with her sharp pink fingernails. "Tell us she's nothing. I'm the only one you love."

That started a catfight. Bubbles ripped her away from him. "It's me you love. Tell me!"

Hobs ineffectually tried to defend himself from their loving attentions. "If my heart were free, you'd be the first to steal it, I'm sure."

"Who? Who has your heart?" they cried all at once.

"It's a secret," he said with a wicked grin. "You know who you are."

Most of the nymphs blushed to the roots of their silky hair. Bubbles wasn't happy with his answer. "Why can't you say you love me in front of everyone? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Do you think I'm fat? Is that why?"

Hobs looked positively hunted just as Sparkle dragged him away from Bubbles. "We never talk anymore!" she whined. "Tell me you love me. I'm wearing a new dress and you didn't even notice!"

"Why are you so quiet?" another nymph chimed in to join the chorus of complaining girls. "What are you thinking?"

"Yes!" The nymphs all agreed in their singsong voices. "Tell us what you're thinking!"

He was thinking he wanted to kill me for getting him into this mess. I knew that look on his face. Before I could laugh, Glistenda pulled me aside, smiling with her perfect rosebud lips. "We're having a party. Do you want to stay? We'll make you our special guest." Hobs' eyes widened and he shook his head at me through the chaos.

Why not? I could find out what was happening around here. These girls might be overwhelming, but at least they talked. Speaking of, there was a wide berth around Bugul. Apparently jealousy wasn't the nymphs' only failing. They were shallow, too. Bugul didn't mind at all. He rolled his club over his meaty palm, a small grin playing on his lips. Like me, he enjoyed seeing Hobs tortured, and for good reason. Yeah, Hobs had a lot to answer for. I smiled at him through the chaos. "Sure," I answered Glistenda.

Hobs shifted uneasily. "No. We couldn't possibly stay." He matched Glistenda's smile. It was the war of smiles. " _She_ can't eat your food, you see."

Glistenda giggled. "Of course she can. She's an oaf. You can't fool us, Hobany." Now it was my turn to stiffen. Compared to _them_ I was an oaf, but Hobs didn't even try to defend me. He looked ready to bolt.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Bubbles asked.

"Why are you even with her?"

"She wears strange clothes." _Yeah, because Hobs put them on me!_

"You like her, don't you?" Glistenda said in a dangerous voice.

"Of course not." Hobs looked tense. "That's a death sentence around here. Besides, look what she's wearing. I could never fall for a girl dressed like that."

I frowned angrily, but the girls giggled and led us deeper into the dark forest caked with snow. "Please stay." With their nails digging into our flesh, we really had no choice. Babs and I trudged reluctantly behind. I was starting to regret my hasty decision to go party with them.

"We'll give you gifts!" they promised. "That's what people with manners do, isn't it, Hobs? But you never do that for us. Why? You have something for us this time, don't you?"

He muttered something rude, and they giggled again. He could do no wrong. Bugul tickled the blunt end of his club with the tips of his stubby fingers. I felt a chill the moment I saw the murderous gleam in his eyes when they rested on Hobs. Why had I been so sure that Bugul was on our side, anyway? It seemed strange to entertain, but Hobs could've been right all along. We might have been better off with the green-skinned, sharp-teethed Merrow on Crystal Lake. So far, the nymphs hadn't played their captivating music, but I knew that once they did, Babs and I were done for.

The discomfort of a bad mistake settled in my gut the further the nymphs dragged us into their forest kingdom. This part of the woods was more captivating than a vision. They had garnished their trees and tiny houses with gauzy ribbon and splendid ice crystals (marquis, diamond, and princess cut, of course). The cold had ruined the décor, sadly, with the snow weighing down the branches and dragging down ribbons. One of the nymphs brushed snowflakes from her delicate shoulders in disgust.

An exotic spread of food was heaped over the long tables. Steam rose from it, and I took a deep whiff, hoping the smell would do me for the next two days. The nymphs had been expecting us. Meat and fruit, but mostly sugary concoctions (a faery favorite) were laid delicately across the table. My stomach rumbled at the sight. The tiara over my head buzzed over my ears in warning. _Never eat faery food!_ I kicked at the snow, tempted to eat that too.

At least Babs didn't have to starve. She scooted next to me and we sat down at the elegant table. Hobs took my other side. The other faeries fought and scrambled to take his left, dragging extra chairs around him once the opposite side of the table was full. Normally the comedy would make me laugh . . . if it wasn't so creepy.

I could only assume the blonde beauty, Glistenda, was their leader. She glided—nay, floated—regally across the snow-kissed ground. After that, her table manners ended, and she ripped a lid (made from ice) from the pudding and tilted the whole carton up against her mouth to gulp it all down. Hobs picked up a drumstick, and I watched in pure torture. Babs waited for my lead. "Go ahead, eat!" I told her behind my hand.

She picked up her spoon and carved out some ice cream for herself. I was never more jealous of faeries than at that moment. Bugul wouldn't touch the food. I put a staying hand on Babs before she could get the ice cream into her mouth. "What's wrong with it?" I asked Bugul.

Of course, he couldn't answer. "He prefers slugs and grubs," Hobs explained.

". . . and eating small children," a nymph suggested with a mouthful of food. She giggled, and some of her soup slid out her mouth. She didn't bother to wipe it off her chin.

"No, he doesn't," Hobs began. For once his need for accuracy overcame his need to joke.

"And he smashes small villages with his club and kills cattle . . ." the beautiful nymph said.

"Not really."

"Don't argue with me." The nymph attacked the ice cream next and it dribbled onto her chin and neck. "How could he not? The Leprechaun is hideous."

"And of course that means he's bad," Hobs said sarcastically. The girls nodded, a few heads disappearing into their bowls of food. Hobs gave Bugul an apologetic shrug of the shoulders.

A Leprechaun? I never imagined a Leprechaun would look like Bugul. No green outfit or shoes, no pink cheeks, no perpetual smile. He just sat there, giving us all a cynical look. I wasn't sure why Hobs even bothered to talk sense into these nymphs anyway. I suspected they liked his attention, even when it was negative.

"Oh, but you're different," one of them said, batting her thick lashes at him. "You're bad _and_ beautiful, Hobs." They all giggled. My mouth dropped. Sure, he was annoying, but bad? Like evil?

After gauging my reaction, Hobs introduced a change of subject, "Ever heard of Merrow?" Now, _that_ I was interested in. "Not only are they bad and beautiful," he said, "they prey on the fancies of their victims. Just like some girls I know." He yelped. One of the nymphs gave him a benign smile in return. His eyes turned cold and he rubbed at his knee. "Like I said."

"Yes, don't judge a book by its cover," I recapped quickly.

"You were talking of Merrow?" the mischievous nymph reminded him. She narrowed her sparkling emerald eyes at me. "C'mon, eat, you oaf! It's the finest food in the Sidhe."

I was sure that it was. My stomach growled, which reminded me. I turned aside to Hobs. "Is the food okay for Babs?"

He shrugged, only picking at it. Still, it couldn't be poisoned since he had chanced a few bites. "The nymphs cooked it. They aren't much for domestic skills. They have other skills, of course . . ."

I didn't want to hear it. "Go ahead," I told Babs. She lifted the ice cream to her mouth, and Hobs casually jerked her spoon away from her before she could get it in. He flicked the ice cream over his shoulder, spoon and all. Her mouth fell open.

"Don't bother. It tastes like dirt," he said.

I doubted it. There was something wrong with it. The girls were hanging all over Hobs, their hair getting into his food, and that ruined my appetite too . . . in a lot of ways. They also seemed genuinely interested in what he had packed from the Otherworld. A few of them found the backpack and rummaged through it. "What did you bring us, Hobany?"

He brought his eyes up to the sky, easily playing the role of martyr. "Oh, I don't know if I can bear to part with this stuff."

True to form, they giggled. Glistenda stole the backpack and overturned it onto the messy table. Everything tumbled out: cotton—we needed that for earplugs! A blindfold that was for the much-dreaded love potion, my book of faerytales that still in no way resembled the faeries here, ugly pink lipstick, crystals from our chandelier. I stiffened. How did he get those? My mom would be furious! Did Hobs pack nothing useful? The nymphs hunted through the useless items, gasping in pleasure. Bubbles held up the only useful thing, the blindfold. "What about this?"

Hobs heaved a long and dramatic sigh and I knew the bartering was about to start. "You're not getting that off me. I'll need it if I see something I can't resist."

Bubbles looked angry. "Why don't you need it now?"

"I like what I see."

_What a liar!_ But it did the trick, and she simpered. "I'll give you faery dust for it. It'll do the same thing."

"Faery dust? C'mon, I can just shake that off a sprite."

"Try to catch one."

He made a show of reluctance. "Deal." She hopped up in joy, clapping her hands and twirling, kicking the snow into a dust devil behind her.

Sparkle grabbed a gum wrapper. "What's this?"

"You can stick your gum in it."

"Gum?"

"It lasts you forever."

"Oh. Forever!" She crinkled it in her hand and liked the noise. "How about a love potion for it?" She pulled out a bottle of black sparkly potion and held it under Hobs' nose. "Black for the color of your heart . . . or maybe for your eyes." She gazed deeply into his and sighed lovingly. "If you want, you can use it on me."

"Use it on me," the girls shouted in an ugly unison.

"No, me!"

"Me!"

Hobs hurriedly stole the potion from her. "I'll take it."

"What are you doing, Hobs?" I whispered.

"Confiscating."

I couldn't imagine anything more dangerous than a love potion in _his_ possession, but I wasn't about to argue with him. It was like arguing with a guy holding a gun.

"I'll take these for a sneeze!" A nymph had already gotten into my pink lipstick. It was all over her face, and she threw down a packet of sneezes for it. At least that's what she said it was. It looked like a teabag.

Before I could get a good look at it, another nymph pressed in. "Hobs, I want the earrings!" My mother's chandelier crystals? A nymph traded a bracelet for them and danced away with them on her ears. The nymph with the lipstick was now covering her arms with the fascinating pink stuff.

"How about this?" Glistenda's knowing look wasn't lost on me. She had our book of faerytales in her grip. Bugul's face tightened. According to Hobs, it was our map out of here. We couldn't lose it.

Before I could argue, I watched Hobs mold the expression on his face into one of absolute boredom. "That stupid thing? Take it."

I jerked in surprise, but she just threw it into the backpack until she found something better belted across his chest. Her fingers caressed the strap. "How about your bow?"

"You'd leave me without a weapon? You really don't care about me, do you Glistenda?"

"Of course I do. Just take me with you. I'll protect you."

He blanched and she didn't miss it. Once again, her beautiful eyes transformed into vengeful slits. "Okay." Her voice went husky. "Then what about these?" Her hands skipped over the stuffed animals and the unmatched sock until she found the cotton. "I need something to plug my ears. Things can get pretty . . . complicated with all the festivities we have around here." She met his eyes evenly, and I knew that she was planning on making things complicated.

"What's the trade?" Hobs asked slowly.

"Frog's breath."

"Sounds delightful."

"And nymph kisses," another nymph suggested, wrapping her arms around his neck, "for when I'm not here for you."

I frowned, but he smiled. "That would be perfect, Orange Blossom."

"Peach Blossom," she corrected with crazed delight, and danced away.

"Yeah."

"So, it's a deal." It wasn't a question, and Glistenda swept the cotton away from our reach, setting the frog's breath and nymph kisses heavily down on the table in clever little capsules and lotion containers. Judging by her catlike expression, she had no intention of letting us use them.

Bugul glared across the table at her. It intimidated me, but Glistenda dimpled prettily. Her dainty fingers traveled across the table to take Hobs' hand. He unobtrusively picked up the frog's breath, at the same time flicking her off like a speck of dust on his sleeve. She'd be a complete moron not to notice. She shot him a dirty look.

"And how about a way to cross Crystal Lake?" he asked.

"Swim," Glistenda said. Her beautiful eyes were on me.

Sparkle was horrified. "And get drowned by Merrow? Poor Hobany! No!"

"Who knows?" Bubbles said with a glittery little snort. "Hobs, they might spare you because you are so beautiful . . . _and kill her!_ "

Yeah, I got it. No one liked me. What did they think Hobs and I had going? I thought of slapping him to ease their minds, but knew that would only confirm their suspicions.

Glistenda bobbed her head grandly. "Ah yes, that's an idea. Perhaps that's your problem, Hobany. This girl. Where did you find this oaf—in some trashy sixties diner?"

I winced, wondering if Hobs would ever defend my honor. He met my eyes, at least having the decency to look apologetic. "She's a keeper, actually, of poor little Babs." Glistenda didn't favor Babs with her disinterested glance—she just glowered at me. Hobs' expression hardened. "I wouldn't waste my time with her, Glistenda."

"No, _you_ wouldn't. Why's Bugul here? She must be something special for the faery queen to send him." Glistenda had it wrong, but Hobs didn't bother to let her in on the secret that the faery queen had sent him instead, and that he was protecting a princess, not some clumsy oaf like me. There was no telling what the nymphs would do if they found out Babs was royalty. Glistenda watched me wickedly, and I knew I was in for it. "Would you like to hear a song?" she asked.

_If you hear the music, run._ It echoed through my head, and the tiara glowed through the dark forest. Glistenda's quick eyes caught the magical reaction. "What is this?" She pushed the stack of my hair away from my tiara and stiffened. "What is going on here, Hobany?" Hobs stayed rebelliously silent, and Glistenda straightened, trying to look clever and failing miserably. She got angry instead. "It seems you are special, oaf." Her eyes went to Hobs. "I don't do this often, but since you are more than you appear, I shall grant you a wish. Any wish. Just make it quick."

Hobs didn't give me time to think of one. He threw his chair back in his haste. "A toast." He raised an icy glass in the air. The contents smoked out and curled around his hand. "In gratitude to the nymphs for this splendid meal!"

_Never thank a faery._ I didn't need the tiara's reminder. The nymphs were groaning in response. It actually physically hurt them. And I thought _I_ was a rule breaker? Hobs continued to thank them in his merciless way. "So, thank you, girls, for the food, the fun, the flirting. My appreciation exceeds all bounds. In every language: _Merci! Danke! Tak! Salamat! Gracias!_ _Dhanyawaad! Thank you!"_

They gasped in pain and he grinned broadly, enjoying himself for the first time since his visit to the forest. I threw my hands over Babs' ears. She was a faery, so it was probably hurting her too. But she didn't seem to be in pain at all—it must only affect those who were getting thanked. "I thought you weren't supposed to say that," I yelled at Hobs.

"Yeah, it really annoys them."

So much that it hurt? I guess that was how the shoemaker got rid of his helpful little elves. They must've been nasty little pests. Glistenda rose to her full height, her scarlet dress billowing around her legs, looking splendid and furious all at once. "I'll get you for this, Hobany!"

"Thanks!" he returned glibly.

She shuddered. "Get out of here, you _prince_! I shan't give you your wish now, my girl, but a curse." I was shocked. Nymphs switched dramatically from love-struck to hatred in a very short time. Of course, Glistenda had always hated me, but I thought she was a little better at hiding her feelings than that.

"Why, thank you." I shot to my feet. "You are such a dear! I'm so grateful!"

Hobs choked in surprise, but then he looked proud.

Glistenda howled in pain, not able to get the curse out. "Go on!" she blubbered. "Take your chances with Crystal Lake! Swim if you have to!" It wasn't exactly a curse, but it still didn't sound good.

"Thanks!" Hobs wrapped a hand around my arm, then grabbed Babs. We shoved past the table. The nymphs' exquisite tableware crashed against the ground into a million pieces of ice, and the girls shrieked and jumped back, saving their super-cute slippers from the spill. I murmured my apologies. Hobs wrenched me away.

Bugul carved a trail ahead of us. Everywhere he went, the girls screamed and propelled backwards. I was pretty sure Bugul was on our side now—even if he hadn't been before, the nymphs had sealed the deal. We were the lesser of two evils. They danced out of the way, paddling their arms through the air and falling inelegantly against the snow in their haste to avoid touching him. "Oooh! Ick!" they shrilled out in supersonic voices.

Hobs glowered at them. We rushed under the glistening branches of the forest, far from the nymphs' sensitive ears. Our feet stamped our shoe sizes and brands into the snow, leaving our tracks behind. The forest breathed silently down on us. So far, the nymphs hadn't started their revelries, but it was only a matter of time before they got their revenge on us.

"I know where they dock their boats," Hobs said between breaths. Bugul stormed through the forest ahead, swinging his club to clear the foliage. A green swamp overflowed over the snowy banks. It looked like thick pea soup mixed with healthy chunks of seaweed and algae. Steam drifted over the surface of the bog. One dip in it, and it would swallow us whole.

"Don't worry. This isn't as bad as the nymphs made it out to be." Hobs skidded to a stop, and Babs and I plowed into him. He twisted and rammed his shoulder into me to stop me from flying face-first into the swamp. I half-expected another faery swear out of him when I saw the panic in his eyes; it made me completely doubt his words. This place _was_ bad.

"Don't you have anything nice here?" I shouted. "Like unicorns?"

Hobs rolled his eyes. "Where do you think we are? The land of fantasy and rainbows?" Well, yeah. "There is nothing _that_ pure here." Bugul was already untying the boat from the docks. After making sure Babs and I were settled far from the banks of the swamp near the tree line, Hobs joined him, looking huffy.

Whatever was in that water was dangerous. There had to be a way out of this. "Won't the nymphs want an exchange for their boat?" I asked.

"I'm terrified of what they'd try to give us in return." Hobs' fingers fumbled over the side of the boat. "No, I'll take a chance with their wrath. They'll get over it. They always do. Well, with me, anyway. They'll just give you a bad make-over and turn your skin inside out. Didn't you hear Glistenda? She actually tried to give you a wish."

I swallowed back the dry feeling in my throat. "What's so bad about a wish?"

He laughed without humor. "Try it if you don't believe me, but personally, I'd consider the source. Nymph wishes are dangerous. Wish to be rich, famous, live forever. It doesn't matter, somehow you'll end up dead—especially if the nymphs hate you. I knew they'd be jealous of you."

Of me and Hobs? Or was it because of something else? I hugged Babs close to me. At least _she_ was safe from them. They hadn't spared her a glance.

# Chapter Fifteen

I would be a mermaid fair;

I would sing to myself the whole of the day;

With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;

And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,

'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?'

—Alfred Tennyson, _The Mermaid_

Snowflakes danced across the sky, melting into the green depths of Crystal Lake. Hobs plunged the paddle into the water after the melted flakes, rowing us further and further away from the shore. So far, there were no signs of the Merrow, but the other side looked too far away to get there easily. Something terrible was about to happen. Seaweed clung ominously to the paddle. Hobs was trying to put us at ease. "They can't catch us . . ."

". . . we're the gingerbread man?" I finished for him. "And we all know what happened to him."

He went silent. Bugul steered us away from the island in the middle of the lake. The reeds swayed silently in the cold chill. "Just keep your mind blank," Hobs said, "or they'll use it against you."

"I have nothing to hide." I gave him a significant look. The nymphs had gotten to me. Just like the wolves, they had alluded to all sorts of things that Hobs . . . Hobany—no, the prince!—was keeping from me. "How about you?" I asked. Do you have anything to hide?"

"Plenty." As usual he was unruffled. "If we're not careful, we'll be their next snack. The Merrow feed on the foils of men."

"So women are safe?"

He laughed appreciatively. "Merrow distort the truth. Ever hear anyone talk behind your back? You can't help but listen, but when you do, you're sorry. You'll wish you can get it out of your mind, but it won't leave. It's like acid eating at you. That's exactly what the Merrow are like. They steal your thoughts. You don't want to hear what they have to say. Even if you know they present the truth like a lie—that's what they do—their words eat at you anyway, and they swallow your trust whole. And then? You find yourself turning against those you shouldn't."

"So basically listen to no one but you, Hobs?"

"Yeah." He treated me to a dry look. "Now you're getting it."

I leaned against the pile of blankets and cushions stashed inside the boat. Babs shivered beside me, and I dragged out a woolen blanket and laid it over her lap. Babs peered out into the lake and stiffened. I followed her gaze, seeing a dark form slide through the water. I gulped, suspicious that I was feeling only a shadow of the fear that was coming.

"Where are you going?" The question echoed across the still waters. Hobs put his finger to his lips, but I didn't have to say anything. "To deliver the baby," another voice answered. Hobs tilted his head significantly at me, and I knew he was right. The thought had been stolen from my mind. "To the queen, to the queen," the Merrows chanted. ". . . but what does she want with the baby?"

"It isn't _hers_ ," another said.

That wasn't my thought. My brows furrowed, and I interrupted their ghostly conversation. "Excuse me? Not hers?" I asked. "Where did you get that?"

Hobs?

I glanced at him, and true to form, he looked amused. "Don't talk to Merrow. They're just rocking the boat. They'd love to tip us over into their loving and cold arms. Wouldn't you, my dears?"

They purred like cats.

The last thing I wanted was to end up in that water with _them_ waiting for us. I tried to judge how close we were to the snowy shores, and saw a green face staring up at me from the water. She was beautiful, with sharp green teeth and long, seaweed-like hair. Yeah, I know it doesn't sound beautiful, but it was a weird kind of beauty all the same. "Come swim with us," she begged. She leaned heavily on the frosted boat, tipping the side up.

I lunged to the other side, yanking Babs with me. "Why can't you stop them, Hobs?"

"What do you want me to do? We're not dealing with mortals here."

Babs gritted her teeth, her little body rigid. She couldn't tear her eyes from the green creatures swimming past us like starved sharks. What if the Merrow weren't lying? What if they had read Hobs' mind like they had read mine . . . or maybe even Bugul's? If the faery queen wasn't her mother, no way was I giving Babs up to her.

"What _does_ the queen want with this baby?" I whispered.

I wasn't sure if I was asking Hobs or the Merrow, but the Merrow were quicker to speak up. "What do you care? You're stuck with her until you deliver her."

Babs turned to me, and I gave her a weak smile. She looked hurt.

"Perhaps we should take her off your hands!" I felt corpse-like fingers slide past my hand to twist around Babs. They felt like cold seaweed—a terrible feeling in the dead of winter. "Come with us, sweetie. The keeper doesn't want you. She never did!"

Babs screamed.

I slapped the Merrow's slimy forehead, dunking her back into the lake. She bobbed up, water dribbling from her mouth. Strangely enough, she was laughing. Hobs grimaced and kept rowing.

Bugul growled low in his throat. Babs breathed hard and trembled like she was going to cry. "It's not true," I told her. "I only want to keep you safe. Bugul, take her." I gently pushed the little girl to him, so I could guard the sides. "Don't let them get her." I trusted him more than Hobs right now. I mean, what did Hobs' riddle to the wolves mean? Whose identity did they get wrong? If the Merrow were reading Hobs' mind, then maybe that was the answer—Babs wasn't the faery queen's baby.

"Who is she?" I asked the Merrow before I could examine the wisdom of doing so. I knew they would answer my questions—distorted truth was better than nothing; or was it?

"What is her name?" the Merrow asked me back.

"She has no name," I breathed.

"Who doesn't?" Another Merrow playfully bobbed up next to the way too touchy-feely one. I realized they were toying with me. They were stretching out Hobs' riddle to drive me crazy. They had probably stolen it from my mind too.

Hobs looked stressed and paddled harder. "We could really use those earplugs about now. You mind using your fingers? Just poke them in your ears. Works every time."

He was right. I kept my mouth shut, but my thoughts poured out without my permission.

"Until she knows her name, the princess has no power," a Merrow said before sliding under our boat, answering my next question.

"Consult the faery books," another Merrow suggested with a crafty look. "Then you shall know who she is."

The Merrow were supposed to lie. How was that a lie? The faerytales had to have the answers. It seemed perfectly logical. They were prophecies here. Snow White's evil stepmother had a mirror, and so did the hag. Was Babs Snow White? Rapunzel's hair grew quickly, and so had our baby's. Cinderella had a faery godmother . . . if you could call _me_ a godmother. Sleeping Beauty had a curse—then again, I had been the sleepy one. Babs was more like a Magic Goose stuck to the innkeeper's daughter. We were all the innkeeper's daughter. Still. No way. Babs couldn't end up being _everything_ in the books.

Ignoring Hobs' scowl, I stole the backpack and dug through it to find the faerytales. Bugul shook his head, but it wasn't enough to stop me. No more secrets. I had to know.

Hobs made a move to stop me, but I turned from him. "We don't know her name," he said. "She's Rumpelstiltskin for all we know."

"Not so loud." I glanced over at Babs. The little girl looked terrified. I tried to reassure her with a smile.

"C'mon, really?" Hobs asked. "You think it will take flipping through a bunch of faerytales to learn her name?"

"She's got to have a name."

"Are you sure? Oh no, honey, we forgot to name our baby," he mocked. "How irresponsible of us. Well, let's brainstorm and come up with one really quick. How about Bobby Joe? Ashton? Billy Jean?"

Would he take nothing seriously? "What's with the guy names?"

"Our princess is cute enough to pull it off. Huh, baby girl?"

Babs hid her face shyly against Bugul's massive chest. "Thanksh," she whispered. Hobs had a way with females, just not with me. Bugul sighed, but his expression softened on the little girl anyway, and he smoothed down her snarly hair.

The Merrow watched us, dripping with menace—just like everything else had here in the Sidhe. If I didn't figure out how I was supposed to keep Babs safe, and quick, we'd be toast—soggy toast, since we were dealing with Merrow. I groaned when the Merrow giggled and repeated my inward pun.

"Soggy toast. Soggy toast."

"The faery queen told me she didn't have a name," I realized. Why hadn't I thought of this before? I grabbed Hobs' arm in my excitement. "That's what we have to do. We have to name her! Isn't that the source of a faery's power, as long as no one bad knows your name? She can inherit everything that belongs to her if we can just figure out who she is!" I remembered the enchantment her mother had bestowed on her. She could rule if she loved. Maybe someone who loved her could help her find out who she truly was, though I refused to think about what Babs would lose if she loved me back. The hag's curse made sure of that. Hobs stared at me like I was crazy. He flexed his arm under my grip, and I pulled away. "I mean it. What do you think of naming her? We'll call her, uh . . . Blest?"

"Sounds like a cow," one of the Merrow said. Hobs' eyes widened, and I knew exactly where that thought had come from.

I frowned at Hobs for even thinking it. I loved that name. "Fine, we'll call her something more faery-like." I studied Babs' face. Her cheeks were pink and adorable. She held her breath, waiting in suspense. "How about Apple?" I asked.

The Merrow giggled. "What if she ends up looking like one?" they sang. "The kids at school will be merciless."

I hit Hobs for that. "We have to call her something!"

"Halley," the Merrow whispered. "Halley." My name, caressed by their lips, sent a shiver of revulsion through me. The Merrow sank into the swamp, still chanting it beneath the water, leaving bubbles in their wake. I stared into the empty surface. Bugul's hand went to my back in warning, but I was being careful. I knew they'd snatch me the instant I got too close. Babs screamed behind me. I swiveled, seeing the Merrow grabbing their trophy. They had her around the neck. A splash was the only thing that remained of her.

"Babs!"

I plunged into the disgusting water after her. It was warm like a hot tub when it should've been cold. I tried not to think of what was down there. The only thing I cared about was my little girl. I came back to the surface, shaking my hair free from the muck, catching sight of Babs' bobbing head. I couldn't hide anything from the Merrow anymore. Now they knew it all. They surrounded us gleefully. I swam through the lake, trying to reach Babs' tiny fingers. They flailed over the waters and she sank. The Merrow had a firm grip on her. I screamed out and kicked them to get her free.

"She loves this child?" they asked in wonder. "She cannot love this child!"

I dragged Babs' head out of the water and hugged her to me. She sobbed into my neck, choking and gasping for breath. My legs pumped against the water, my free arm paddling to keep us upright. Of course, I knew the curse the hag had given her before she had stolen Babs away. If the princess loved, that love would vanish away, but I could love without Babs loving me in return. There was no harm in that.

"Why?" I shouted. "Why can't I love her?" I held onto her tightly. The Merrow would not get to her while I had her. "Is it forbidden to love this child?"

"Yesssssssssssssss," they answered at once.

Hobs dove in after us. The Merrow screamed out in delight and deserted us for him. They would love him to death. "Son of a queen," they purred, coming in closer. Their claw-like hands twisted over him. I gasped. I came face-to-face with one of them. Her golden eyes blinked just inches from mine. "Who are you?" she asked. "You've been here before, have you not?"

I remembered the hands. _Had I?_

"They can't hurt you!" Hobs shouted out. He tried to push past the Merrow to get to us. "Just keep your mind blank. They'll twist your thoughts and use your fears against you." But I couldn't control my fears, any more than I could control the heavy beating of my heart. I was sure Hobs would feel it as soon as he fought his way through the Merrow to get to us.

They pouted their lips at him, but allowed him to scrape past. He was better at guarding his fears. He threw his arm around Babs' neck and dragged me against him. I wasn't the only one breathing hard. His chest heaved in and out, and I clutched onto him tightly, not sure if I should, but he was the only one who could save us now. "Don't let go," he said.

"You came for her," the Merrow said. "You've broken the rules, Hobany. It _is_ forbidden."

"Bugul!" Hobs shouted. He boosted Babs up and over the water, shoving her at the anxious Leprechaun. Bugul caught her in his grip, dragging her over the side of the boat. The water from her waterlogged body sprayed over our faces. As soon as she was safe, Babs buried her face in her hands, tears pouring through her fingers. I couldn't stand seeing her so scared.

The Merrow cried out in delight. "Your mother wouldn't like this. No, she wouldn't at all." They trailed moist fingers along Hobs' arm. He elbowed them back.

"Who's your mother?" I shouted. Was he somehow related to Babs? Her brother? They both had blonde hair. It made sense! Why wouldn't the faery queen want Hobs to come after his own sister?

Hobs took a steadying breath and tried to toss me onto the boat after Babs. The Merrow shrieked, and I felt their bony fingers clasp onto me in a deathly grip just as my chin cleared the side of the boat. They tugged me back into the soupy depths with them. I felt like I was tangled in seaweed and couldn't struggle free. Hobs clutched me possessively under the arms and wrenched me back from them. I pushed my head out of the water and gasped for air. They cried out in frustration, and I wrapped my arms around Hobs' neck, kicking them away. The Merrow pushed the boat further from us, their slick bodies sliding past. I tried to ignore their slimy coldness. Hobs held me closer, my dark hair wrapped around his neck.

"Why?" the Merrow asked Hobs. "Is this for her? Or for you? Is she to be a favor for your queen?"

"Which queen?" another asked. "Seelie or Unseelie?" They erupted into giggles, their eyes dissecting Hobs like they could force his thoughts from him.

"What are you doing here, prince? The faery queen sent Bugul, not you."

I was more confused than ever, but then, it could just be the Merrow trying to turn us against each other so they could devour us. It looked like they wanted to. Water dribbled from their sharpened teeth like drool.

Babs cried above us, tears dripping down her red face, and my attention riveted to her. She shook with fear, calling out our names. Bugul rowed closer to us and she reached for me, stretching out each tiny finger so she could touch my hand. The Merrow's nasty fingers met hers instead, and I flinched as they sang out, "Which queen will you give her to, Hobany? Will you give her to . . . ?"

"Bugul," Hobs shouted out over my cries to leave Babs alone. "Watch Babs." With a growl, Bugul jerked the girl away from the Merrow before they could dunk her back into the water. "Take her ashore!" Hobs called. "Go without us. Just go!"

"Oh, you don't want them to hear what we have to say. Why is that, I wonder?" The Merrow looked intrigued and swam around us, ducking and diving. "You don't want _her_ to know?" Hobs winced. Had they read his mind this time? It seemed they got it spot on. We were in their playground.

"Bugul, just keep rowing and shut your mind off," Hobs whispered. His mouth was close enough to my ear for me to hear what I wasn't supposed to.

"Your own mother . . . ?"

Hobs splashed the Merrow maiden in the face and she choked on her words. He laughed a little, but sobered immediately, trying to get me to the snowy shore. "Don't look back." He practically carried me through the seaweed and up onto the bank, his legs fighting for footing through the ankle-deep water once we found land. The water maidens shouted after us, but I didn't want to hear what they had to say anymore. They used truth to deceive and turned us against each other . . . unless? Nothing they had repeated from my mind had been wrong—not entirely. It had all been based on a nugget of truth. I didn't know what to think.

Bugul and Babs had docked to the side of us. Hobs had me by the arm, and together we slipped over the slushy rocks to meet them. I pulled my ridiculous sixties skirt back to my knees—the shock of the cold air hitting me as I left the steaming water. My boots felt heavy and sodden as we retreated onto the blanket of snow against the bank, though not fast enough to miss the Merrow's next words. "She is your _Leannan Sith_ , is she?" Hobs got red, and he mopped the wet hair from his face. The Merrow ducked their heads, pretending to simper out congratulations.

I turned to him, my body shaking with the cold. "What's . . . that . . . that mean? Leannan Sith?"

He hesitated, but in the end, couldn't resist sharing the joke with me. "It means faery sweetheart." His lips trembled with the cold. "I _told_ you their truth is distorted . . . unless you're falling for me, of course." He laughed at my look of surprise, though I noticed it was slightly shaky. "Didn't think so." He pulled me closer, and I clutched his warm body, desperate to get some heat out of him. He took full advantage of it so he could cover my ears with his hands. I felt his rough fingers catch in my hair, shutting out all the background noise. He shouted back at the Merrow. He shouldn't have bothered. It was muffled, but I could still hear—I just couldn't understand the language. The Merrow drew back in sudden surprise.

I fought his hands away from my ears. "What did you tell them?" I demanded.

He let me go, peeling his wet shirt from his stomach to wring it. "I gave them something they couldn't twist. The truth. They don't like it." Hobs let his dripping shirt go in defeat. It was hopelessly crushed against him. He splashed over to the boat instead and dragged it further up the bank. He gathered Babs out of it and set her on the snow, not letting go of her wet hand. He grabbed mine as well. Bugul gave him a disgusted look and pulled out of the boat. "What?" Hobs asked. "I'm out of hands. Maybe next time, _best friend_."

With an expression of intense dislike, Bugul retrieved his club from the hull. Even Hobs couldn't pretend to mistake his meaning. His reluctant eyes went to me. "I should get you out of those wet clothes." My sodden sixties outfit was freezing; the murky swamp water steamed up into the chilly air. Soon, I'd be a block of ice. "I don't know, though," he said, "I kind of like your wet look. It makes your hair go black." Hobs let me go to tuck a piece of wet hair behind my ear.

I blushed. "You just like to see me uncomfortable."

"That's not the only reason."

Bugul took a threatening step closer, and Hobs sighed in defeat and reached out to tap me on the head. My wet clothes sizzled and dried. The go-go boots evaporated into my old fur-trimmed ones from home. The sixties skirt grew and slid down my legs, transforming into jeans. Soon I wore a coat and a blissfully heavy sweatshirt. The unexpected comfort came as a relief. After changing Babs' clothes into dry ones with a similar tap to her head, Hobs went back to studying me. "Hmmm, I got something wrong." He touched me again, and my coat turned from white to black. "Yeah, more you. Matches your heart."

I tore away from him, but at least I was warm—for the moment.

# Chapter Sixteen

Do you remember how the dreams of glory

Kept fading from us like a fairy treasure;

How we thought less of being fam'd in story,

And more of those to whom our fame gave pleasure.

Do you remember in far countries, weeping,

When a light breeze, a flower, hath brought to mind

Old happy thoughts, which till that hour were sleeping,

And made us yearn for those we left behind?

Do you remember this?

—Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton, _Recollections_

The light from the fire danced across our tired faces. I was cold. My hair was still wet, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. And I had some faery song stuck in my head, and there was no way it was coming out. But at least I could sleep now. And I didn't feel sick . . . not like I was in the Otherworld. Wait—the Otherworld? Now I was thinking like the faeries. Home was _not_ the Otherworld. This place was the foreign one.

Night had descended on the Sidhe. The forest branches creaked over us, heavy with the weight of the snow. The trees stretched long spindly fingers into the starlit sky. In just a moment, the branches would have us all in their grasp. My mouth lifted at the turn of my thoughts. This place made me paranoid.

With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see. Then one and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax.

According to the faery queen's curse, I had one more day left in the Sidhe. One more day—until the stroke of midnight to get Babs back to her mother.

And if I didn't? What would happen?

I looked across the fire at Hobs. He had changed from his wet clothes to a warm brown jacket and worn-out jeans. The fire was playing tricks with his hair, turning straw into gold. He hunted through our backpack, taking an inventory of what was left. But his gaze wasn't on the faery gifts—it was on me. As soon as I became aware of it, he looked away and smiled bitterly with just a hint of something that I couldn't read. Well okay, I could a little bit. It was like he was waiting. I didn't know why, but his eyes betrayed him, because in them I sensed something impossible, like he knew me more than I knew myself. I couldn't figure it out, but I could tell he was frustrated. Something stirred inside me when I looked at him too, something I'd never felt before. Affection?

Never.

I shouldn't try to read him anymore. It would make me too close to him, and it wasn't like he was my Prince Charming. I knew his stats, had Googled him even—a good faery to have around when he wasn't stealing kisses and making girls cry. It all added up to one thing: player. I shouldn't try to read myself, either. My stats were just as bad as his. I had a cold heart jumpstarted by a faery queen. Now that I was bombarded by these strange new emotions, it only made sense that I would latch onto the first guy I felt something for—and a faery at that. It was forbidden. I looked at Babs, her head heavy on my arm. This strange place was messing with my heart.

I lowered Babs to my lap, smoothing her blonde hair back from her sleeping face, a face that had grown so precious to me. Light freckles stood out on her cheeks, and I unconsciously connected the dots between them by the light of the flickering fire. Her future was completely dependent on me. Another scary thought. I didn't know how to help her. Was her mother even her real mother? And if she wasn't, did she at least want the best for the kid? I dearly hoped so, because if Babs ever loved me back, I had a very good chance of disappearing . . . or at least, doing something really stupid. It was really hard for me not to do something stupid.

"You need a kiss."

My head lifted. Hobs didn't look away this time. My heart lurched when I met his eyes. Had the nymphs turned a love potion on him after all? Knowing how they felt about me, and him, that was doubtful. Bugul growled in annoyance.

Hobs pulled his dark eyes from mine, giving him an innocent shrug. "What?" Bugul continued to glare, and Hobs pushed past the faerytales in the backpack to dig out a gift from the nymphs; I recognized the container that held their nymph kisses. "Since you won't take mine, this is the best I can do." He stood up, edging past Bugul and the circle of fire to kneel beside me. He squeezed out the goo of nymph kisses from its container and rubbed it into my hand. It looked like lotion, except it was hot. His head turned to catch me with his probing look again. "It will warm you up."

In what way? But the temptation to be warm was too much, and I let him roll up my sleeves. His fingers trailed a path of heat through my arms. I felt it ooze over my skin and tingle through my senses as he rubbed it in. Soon, I wasn't even shaking. The stuff worked better than hot chocolate. It made my hands glow. I loved it. I snatched more from the container and tried to rub it onto Babs' exposed face.

"Don't." Hobs blocked me with his arm. "It will burn her up worse than a fever. She's warm enough."

Babs was covered in furs, her cheeks rosy. She sighed happily and curled up against me. She looked content. I squared my shoulders and pressed my luck. "Got anything for hunger?"

"Not unless you want some faery food."

And then what? Be stuck here forever? Bugul frowned in disapproval, and I had to adjust to the idea that he was the one the faery queen had sent to protect Babs. The wolves, nymphs, and Merrow had all confirmed it, so if I didn't accept it, I'd be an idiot. But what did that make Hobs? Nothing the Merrow said about him made sense. I tried to put it together in my head—he was a prince. Though not necessarily sent by the faery queen, he had come to help us. Why?

He still watched me. The usual jaded look was gone. The concern on his face was foreign, and it made my stomach twist—no guy had ever watched me that way before; but then again, I was incapable of accepting affection until now. "You'll be alright," he said after a moment. "The faery queen killed you with her curse."

Any peace I felt disappeared. "What?"

"I mean," he grimaced, "she rid you of your human tendencies and barriers. You don't need food. No one here does. You just think you do. Time is slower in the Sidhe."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean—we'll fix it later. You're not going to starve to death. No one ever has here. No worries."

I tried not to think too hard on it. I stole Babs' swirly toy from her limp fingers. Without having to say anything, my home appeared on the face of it. At least, it _looked_ like home. The leaves were golden and orange. They dropped gently over the green grass on our lawn. The sun was brilliant against the flat red roof. Below that, next to the balcony on the trampoline, I spied dark and blonde hair, two heads pressed together in laughter, their hair entwined. The blonde was Daphne, of course. The dark hair had to be mine . . . but no. It was my shadow's. They were both having too much fun for it to be me.

The two lay on the trampoline, staring up at the clouds—comparing them to animals and celebrities and . . . me. They were laughing and making jokes. Daphne was in her gray sweats. She had snagged my shirt—it didn't match, but I doubted she cared. It was mine. She loved everything that belonged to me. My shadow didn't look like she cared, either. Her taste in clothes leaned more on the preppy side, with pink bubble shorts and a flirty shirt. They kicked their bare feet in the air and elbowed each other for no apparent reason. I smiled when they laughed so hard that they snorted and choked. Finally, they settled down and talked. I mean, they really talked. I frowned, feeling horrible.

It should've been _my_ moment, except I hadn't been capable of it. If none of this had happened, if I hadn't been stolen away to the land of the faeries, if I had been there instead of here, this moment still could never have been mine. What had happened to make me this way?

_The hands._ Still, I couldn't blame them entirely. I was selfish. I had never appreciated my family like I should have. They loved me—and I always supposed that being their daughter was enough, but now I realized that it wasn't. I didn't do anything for them. I was mean. They never had any fun with me, _ever_. Was it too late to change things? Was I incapable of changing things? Even if I was unable to love, I still could have shared moments like these.

Hobs leaned next to me to look into the toy, and I felt the warmth emanating from him. His presence was somehow comforting. "Months have passed at home. You got homecoming queen, by the way. Well, your shadow did."

"Months?" Besides the threat of becoming homecoming queen, I didn't like the idea of losing so much time so fast. My hand landed against his chest. "What do you mean months?"

"I thought you knew." He shifted uneasily. "Time passes quickly in the Otherworld."

"Yeah, but the homecoming dance? That's late September." My heart beat uncomfortably as I tried to digest this information. The leaves had changed. They were falling. Just one day and my shadow started my senior year in high school? I might graduate before I got back, or worse. I could be in college and so far removed from everything familiar that I would never get my life back. I felt tears well up, and I was so shocked by it that I fought them, lashing out at Hobs instead—that came more naturally. "She's probably flunking all my classes!" It was terribly insignificant, but it hurt less to talk about than other things, to talk about how I was missing my life, not to mention all the years I had wasted when I actually was home.

"Yeah, she's making a mess of things. Now everybody likes you."

That hurt more than he knew, and I couldn't even glare at him. The urge to cry smothered me. I sucked in my breath to stop that from happening. I had never experienced so many contrasting emotions at once: longing, hurt, and love? It was more than I could handle. I felt like I was bleeding with no way to patch things up. Hobs tried to comfort me. "Hey, at least now you don't have to watch _Hot Club_ every Tuesday night with Daphne."

How did he know about that? Before I could ask, I saw a movement in the swirly toy. I tried to distract myself with it to keep the tears back. Daphne turned to me—to my shadow, rather—and whispered, "Remember that guy who played Puck in our play last summer? He's so beautiful. I have a huge crush on him. I think he likes me too."

Ren? That awful kid! It seemed so long ago when he flicked my dangling earrings, and sat on the park bench in his dark shades and red hoodie watching me make an idiot of myself. Maybe it was the part he had acted out in the play that set me against him. Puck! Some strange, protective sisterly instinct overcame me, and I wanted to reach through the swirly toy and shake Daphne, but my shadow just kicked her legs back and flipped onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hand. "Yeah, he's really cute. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I wanted to . . . I tried, so many times."

But I wasn't there for her.

"Look," I heard Hobs saying. He hesitated a moment, then I felt the weight of his arm around my shoulder. He hugged me, trying to make me feel better with his soothing strength. "If we fix things here, we can rewind everything when you get back. It will be like you never left."

I studied their happy faces for a moment. "No, I like how it is now. It's better."

"What did you say?" He watched me closely. I knew I shouldn't try to read his expression, but I did it anyway. He had the look of someone who might kiss me. My pulse quickened, like maybe I wanted him to.

Bugul harrumphed in the background. He loudly pounded out his sleeping bag, trying to make himself more comfortable in the snow—all the while making a perfect third wheel. I think I knew what would happen if Hobs stepped out of line.

Hobs knew it too, but the excitement in his eyes was hard to resist. "Can you feel? Everything?" I didn't know what he was trying to say. He touched my hand. "Do you love . . . I mean, do you love Babs? Is this for her?"

"Hobs, it's so dangerous. She could lose everything. If she loved me back . . ."

"The love of mortals fades from view," he recited the hag's hateful curse, his eyes darkened on mine. "I hate to break it to you, but that's not everything. I mean, to be able to love . . ."

"It sounds like I leave her or something, and I won't."

He shook his head. "You're supposed to give her to her mother."

"Yes, I know, but . . ."

"The sovereign cannot rule unless she loves. This is good."

"Don't tell me that, okay? Just because I love her, doesn't mean she loves me too. She's still safe. We're fine!"

"You do have a heart." He looked as if he was trying to make up his mind about something, but he leaned back and tried to adopt a calm expression instead. "Now it can be broken. You'll be susceptible to love talkers. You'll be easy to manipula . . ." His voice trailed off, and he looked worried. "I didn't think about that. No, this isn't safe."

That's what I was afraid of. I played with Babs' soft fingers, limp in sleep. Under normal circumstances, we'd look like a family on a camping trip. Of course, the hot chocolate and s'mores were missing . . . and the stories—I felt drawn to the faerytales. They poked out of the backpack just within reach, as if daring me to figure them out. The story behind all of our troubles was hidden somewhere in those pages. If I could just piece the clues together before Babs loved me back, we could get her home. Then I could concentrate on how to be normal—and try to survive it.

Under Hobs' suddenly alert gaze, I dragged the book out and opened it. He didn't try to stop me this time. The firelight flickered across the story of _Sleeping Beauty_ , except there was something wrong with it. The words of the book shifted and changed into something else. Either the flames were playing tricks on my eyes or this was a product of faery magic. The story beneath my hands was only slightly familiar. Instead of the blonde innocent who tangled with a spindle, it was the story of a beautiful princess, daughter to royalty from a far-off province in the Sidhe.

"Hobs," I asked. "What is this?"

Hobs could see it over my shoulder. "Faerytale prophecies." For once he didn't hide his interest, but then, that was directed more at me. "These are the _true_ faerytales," he said, "as we were meant to see them."

"The book didn't look like this before."

"That's because you didn't open it in the Sidhe. All faerytales have magic in them—even if it's imperceptible in the Otherworld."

Could everything Hobs told me about this book be taken literally? They were prophecies, sure, but actual prophecies—like their Bible? Most importantly, it would tell us Babs' identity, written down in black and white. I scooted closer to the fire to read the latest scoop on _Sleeping Beauty_.

The story started out the same. The princess was beautiful and sweet, born to loving parents. But from there, it went completely crazy, because she had to live among shadows and demons and pests. Her life was filled with confusion and turmoil. She was only a princess because she had royal blood from an ancestor who had been stuck in a tree, imprisoned there by her stepsister. Then again, stepsisters were known to be mean. Sleeping Beauty's ancestor escaped, only to face banishment in the wilderness. The first daughter in her royal bloodline would be a princess. If the princess ever found out who she was, she would be cursed to sleep for a hundred years in the same tree that imprisoned her ancestor; there she would be forced to guard a treasure. Even worse, some creepy dog and a cat with large yellow eyes would watch the princess to make sure she couldn't escape.

I groaned and set the book down on the mounds of blankets over Babs' back. The only thing familiar about the tale was that the poor princess had to wait under a spell until a knight with the right bloodline came to rescue her. I turned to Hobs. "So what happened to Sleeping Beauty?"

"You mean, what _will_ happen to her?" Yeah, that was right. These were prophecies. They hadn't happened yet, which made absolutely no sense. He took the other side of the book, lacing his fingers through mine. "It says a brave knight of Tristan's lineage will try to save her."

"Try?"

"Well, it's kind of hazy from there. The words of the prophecy aren't all in yet, but most likely he'll die and she'll rot in the tree." He turned to meet Bugul's unblinking glare, and treated him to a dry smile. "That's how real faerytale romances go." At my gasp of shock, Hobs shrugged. "He doesn't have the right bloodline. What can he expect? He's a goner."

"Then," I ventured, "he must not really love her either?"

"Love? He doesn't know her. If anything, he'll be after her lands and power. Everyone will be. What?" Hobs arched a brow, not attempting to take back the harsh truth. "The knight's bloodline, not his love, will save the princess, but since you're so worried . . ." He gave me a teasing look and perused the book. "I know a guy who belongs to the proper aristocratic family. Geoffrey of the Great Tooth can save her. He's got the right DNA."

"Oh, really," I drawled back. "He sounds so charming." By now I was completely disenchanted by the whole story.

"Oh, whoops, no. Wait." Hobs held up an index finger while he skimmed through the rest. It wasn't long before he generously divulged all the gruesome details. "The unfortunate soul who represents the appropriate family bloodline will lose his one true love. Looks like Sleeping Beauty will die of old age before he can collect the princess's booty from the tree. Poor boy."

_Poor girl!_ "So it ends that way?" I tugged the book from Hobs and searched the rest of the page to look for the "happily ever after." It was missing. What _was_ surprising was to see that the whole end of the story was gone too. I jumped when something sharp pricked my finger. _Ouch._ The paper got me.

"Of course it doesn't end." I heard Hobs say in a way-too-patient voice. "Why would the story end?"

I sucked on my finger, staring at the blank pages. Half the words were there. And the ones that weren't? My hand ran gingerly back over the prickly paper and I felt a hint of them. They poked into the parchment from a bumpy surface beneath the story, almost like backwards carbon paper. The words weren't coming in yet. They might not be fully engraved in this prophecy for months, maybe years. I lifted the page and found nothing underneath, except another wretched faerytale on the next page. "Where's the rest of the story?"

"Prophecies become clearer as time passes." Hobs stretched, acting like it didn't affect him, but I knew better. He watched me too closely for that. "The way things are going, Sleeping Beauty will just sleep forever."

"That's a terrible story!"

"Not as bad as Snow White's."

I caught his not-so-veiled hint and flipped roughly through the pages, ignoring the stories of dark spells and other forms of faery torture. They made me sick. "If your people know what's going to happen to them, why do they keep making the same mistakes?"

"Why does anybody? Everyone thinks they can beat the odds. The problem is, the more mistakes we make, the more they pinpoint our doom." I glanced up at him for more details, and he just looked grim. "Oh, there it is." He didn't look down at the book, though he had stopped me at the right story. I found it hard to believe he had the exact turn of pages memorized, but he did. "There's our sweet little Snow White." His voice was laced with that familiar irony.

What used to be a sweet brunette in rags could only be a cold, ethereal beauty . . . um, from the back, anyway. If Hobs hadn't pointed her out, I never would've recognized the Snow Princess as the one we all knew and loved from our bedtime stories. I read through her description. The dwarves worked for her. The animals were her dark-hearted familiars. The queen (who was not of her blood) was ticked at her. Yep, this was the hag's story—or as the faeries here liked to call her, the Snow Queen. There was no hint of her downfall.

"Hobs? What is her ending?"

"Why do you always insist on one? She's on top. What does she have to worry about?" Hobs toyed with the medallion around his neck. "The witch sucks everyone's power dry. Without _her_ , no one is anything." He took a deep breath, his face lifting so I could see the sardonic twist to his lips. "But you should see the great snowflakes she makes at Christmas, and she frosts the roundest pumpkins on Halloween. Besides, there are plenty here in the Sidhe who are far worse than she is."

My eyes couldn't leave his. They hinted at something terrible that he wasn't telling me. "Here's a paragraph about her stepmother. Ever hear of the queen of Tylwyth Teg?" I shook my head. "Well, Queen Gwendhidw, of course, _is_ the fairest of them all. No one can live if they gaze on Gwen for too long." My mouth dropped and he looked amused, though not terribly proud. He turned the page to Goldilocks and grimaced at it.

"More prophecies about women," I said.

His smothered laugh forced me to look closer at the page. Goldilocks was a guy. Hobs moved to turn the page before I could see it too closely. "He goes on an important mission for . . . uh . . . royalty, and tangles with the wolves."

My hand landed on the page, and I forced him to keep it open. "That's you?"

His hand joined mine, and he expertly guided me away from the story. "Have I ever told you what big eyes you have?" I rolled them. He propped his fist against the ground, moving his arm behind my back while he made himself more comfortable next to me. "We're never sure which prophecy concerns us personally. Everyone has their theories on who's who. There's a certain _power_ to knowing who you are. But whether the prophecies are fulfilled or not depends on . . ." His voice trailed off when he turned another page, "us."

Before I could look too closely at it, Babs cried out in her sleep. I stroked her full head of wispy blonde hair. We had put it in braids earlier, but her hair was so baby soft and thick, it wouldn't stay. And now I was messing with it again. The poor kid never had a moment alone. Neither did I, for that matter. Hobs wouldn't stop looking at me now, and Bugul clearly didn't approve. Even without his voice, Bugul was noisy about it. He pulled out a cushion that he had stolen from the back of the nymph's boat and pounded it like it was someone's head.

Hobs turned from me to stare into the fire. "It used to be better here," he said in an undertone, "before the treasures were stolen. Not that we haven't had our problems. There have always been those who had a connection to the Otherworld, spilling secrets, exchanging ideas, giving mortals ill-gotten powers."

"You thought the Skinwalker was one of them?"

"Yeah, the guy who peeled off his face at the Okanogan golf course. It just seemed too big a coincidence that it happened so close to you. Then when he showed up at the park, I knew."

"Who?"

"You saw that big black dog?" he asked.

Quite honestly, the Banshees had almost swept that from my mind. "I . . . I thought maybe he was some big faery pet or something."

"He's one of the cursed." Seeing how serious Hobs was, I believed him. "These Otherworldly are humans who work with stolen magic. They're dark creatures who will destroy you and me, everything if they have a chance. They hate us for existing. It was the ultimate betrayal when one of our own made a deal with them."

"Hobs, you've got to tell me. Does this have to do with Babs?"

"It has to do with all of us. The four treasures are what give us our powers. Dagda's cup, Lugh's wand, Nuadha's sword, the sacred Stone of Fal. Without them, the Sidhe will fade out of existence. The worlds will end." I glanced down at the story that had caused him to talk this way. _Rapunze_ l, or more accurately Ratis. This prophecy actually stated a name. The others were just guesses as to their identities. "The prophecy has been filled," Hobs said in a dull voice. "I've never seen anything like this before."

The story had ended. The words were all in and accounted for. Printed across the bottom of the page in bold letters were the words: _The End_. My gaze slipped from the words to his solemn face. "You know something about this story, don't you?"

He nodded. "It was said that Ratis betrayed the kingdom by selling the four treasures to the leader of these cursed, and for a measly price . . . love."

"Was it worth it?"

"Does it matter? Now that the treasures are gone, our powers will dwindle to nothing. It's only a matter of time." I studied the drawing of Ratis in the book. Her hair was long and golden, just like I was familiar with in the original story. Only this time, she had been locked up in a tower in the middle of the city.

Hobs refused to look at the story. "We knew we were dying without the treasures, but she wouldn't tell us where they were, wouldn't reveal her secrets. The Twelve from the High Court banished Ratis' handmaidens to the Otherworld where they would forever mourn the loss of the treasures. You've met them; those are the Banshees. Then the Twelve confiscated Ratis' powers and clipped her wings."

"Wings?"

"She's from Gorias," he explained with a shrug. "Of course she had wings. The Twelve then sent the Dones d'aigua, her own people, to guard her in the tower."

I studied the elaborate depictions of the creatures, part bird, part women. The graceful guards circled the tower that stretched out into the heavens. Their glorious wings glinted in the sun, their eyes hopeless. It was vengeance that provoked Ratis' life sentence, not justice. Locking her up wouldn't have brought back the treasures.

"And after all this," Hobs said, "Ratis was found innocent of the crime. Now that it's too late."

"Can't you save her?"

"It's not a prophecy anymore. Nobody saved the princess. The end is the end."

I skimmed through to the bottom of the page—Ratis had died in her tower. The treasures of the Fae were in the hands of some unknown perpetrator, and no one could save the innocents of this crime. The prophecy had the stamp of fulfillment.

Hobs met my eyes. "Our faerytales aren't like yours. We live in a world where heroes die."

I didn't like the sound of that. Hobs could die. Bugul could die. And Babs? With difficulty, I kept myself from freaking out. None of us were safe. "You knew Ratis was innocent, didn't you?"

"I had been told that . . ." He shook his head. "Let's just say that you can't trust what you see, or hear." Hobs was being cryptic again, and I saw the faint panic in his expression when he stared into the forest.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can't hear anything." He pulled away from us, which was disappointing, and not just because I had been stealing his warmth for the last half hour. There was something comforting about his presence. He dug through the backpack for the faery gifts. "No birds, no sounds—except us. Bugul?" He exchanged glances with the Leprechaun, who had lunged to his feet and paced the campfire with his club. "I think we have some Grim on our hands."

Oh, no—Grim! I held Babs tighter. It sounded . . . well, grim.

"Kobolds and Shades," Hobs explained. "They're the worst things in these woods. The most terrifying sound in the Sidhe isn't the growl of a wolf. It's the beautiful sounds: the song of a siren, the laughter of a brownie. The danger is not knowing the enemy until it's too late." He sounded like he spoke from experience. "C'mon, we'll build the fire higher." He sprinkled something on it, and its smoke sucked into the flames and disappeared. In an instant, the fire turned into a huge blaze. I tried to shield Babs.

"It won't burn you," he said. "Get as close as you want. You can even sleep on it."

No. Way. It smelled awful. Bugul wrinkled his nose and tried to wave it away. "Yeah," I said. "The smell will lead them straight to us."

"Nope, it repels them. Frog's breath. It's perfect for camping."

Bugul snorted. Clearly, he'd had enough of us and our nymph magic—and I thought I was uptight. I tilted my head at him. "Bugul, I can feel your disapproval clear from over here."

"At least you can't hear it." Hobs slushed around the circle of snow that made up the edges of our campfire, peering into the darkness to the woods beyond. He listened for a moment in the silence until he was satisfied. "I think we're safe, for now."

I watched the firelight play with the gold highlights in Babs' hair. I didn't want her to be anyone in those faerytales. They were depressing and terrible. And yet, it was critical that the princess know her name. If not, the results might be just as bad as those other faerytale prophecies. Maybe worse. "Cinderella," I guessed half-hazardly. "She's sleeping near the ashes."

Hobs gave a short bark of laughter and settled back next to us. It immediately warmed me up. "We're talking about our princess, right?" he asked. "She doesn't clean up after herself at all."

"Well," I tried to figure it out. "We have to prove that she's a princess first . . . like the _Princess and the Pea_. Everyone will have to know she's real because of her sweetness and sensitivity."

"Sweetness? Sensitivity?" He looked like he would laugh again, but then he thought better of it. "That has possibilities."

But it wasn't enough. I quickly flipped through the pages of the book, remembering what Hobs had said before. Her whole story had a very _Rumpelstiltskin_ feel to it. A baby was stolen. I found the faerytale and carefully smoothed down the rough page. As soon as Hobs saw it, he stiffened. Good. I was on to something.

The identity of what used to be a manipulative troll with a secret name now seemed obvious. Rumpelstiltskin was the Otherworldly, a dark and loathsome creature from a different land. As I read, it seemed the Otherworldly had great power over the queen. Instead of turning straw into gold, the creature had something else the girl wanted—the four treasures. Without it, she could not rule the Sidhe. That, at least, was spelled out.

I read the prophecy with building dread. According to this, the queen would make any deal with the Otherworldly to get what she wanted, even a child. It was part of their bargain. My insides felt hollow when the truth sank in. I knew exactly who that child was.

Of course the Snow Queen would try to trade Babs to the Otherworldly. It was a convenient way to get rid of the only girl who could take her down. Was that why the Otherworldly had sent that dog to spy on us in the park? Maybe the Otherworldly thought he could get Babs without the queen and keep the four treasures too. The only puzzle stumping me was why Babs meant more to the Otherworldly than the four treasures. Well, she was to me, but that was irrelevant.

I took a deep breath and closed the book. The original faerytales were safer. "We just have to put the clues together," I said. We had to save Babs from this fate and give her a name so she stood a chance against Rumpelstiltskin. So, what did Babs and the other princesses in these tales have in common? Most of them had a Prince Charming. He always saved them. It wasn't a very girl-power way of thinking, but I didn't care.

"I have an idea," I told Hobs. I wasn't sure how he'd take this, but I was desperate. "We need to figure out who her Prince Charming is. If we know him, we'll know her."

"That's easy." I was glad to see that Hobs wore his wicked grin again—it meant he was on my side. "It's me."

I laughed. I probably shouldn't have, and at his usual ironic look, it cut short. "No." I shook my head a little too vigorously. "No, c'mon, you're not even charming."

"What's the matter? You don't think I'm good enough for a princess? Oh, I know—you don't think she's good enough for me." He was teasing me, and I didn't like it. Hobs looked too cute when he did that, and when something like this was coming from his mouth, it was just wrong.

"Knock it off."

"I can't tell you who our princess is, but I can tell you who I am, and I'm sitting right here in front of you. Check the book if you like."

I swiveled to Bugul for confirmation. He sulked next to the fire, but he didn't deny it. I felt my heart plummet. It was true then. The nymphs had called Hobs a prince. The Merrow had called him the son of a queen. And now he was meant for the princess? So, why was that so upsetting?

Hearts were so . . . stupid! I felt like Hobs had cut mine out and thrown it into that ridiculous fire made of frog's breath. I was so through with him.

# Chapter Seventeen

My grief! My grief! that bitter hour drained the life from me;

I thought him human lover, thought his lips on mine were cold,

And the breath of death blew keen on me within his hold.

—Ethna Carbery, _The Love Talker_

The sun was hot on my shoulders, caressing the bare skin on my arms. It felt like it would never snow again. I lifted my head to the sky. Instead of blue, it was the most brilliant white I had ever seen. It bathed the world in white. Nothing in the Otherworld compared to it.

The Otherworld? Was that a dream? Wait. The Sidhe. That was the place that didn't seem real, so why did home seem so far away now? I wandered through a grove of trees in a white dress, my toes sinking into the soft, wet dirt. A deep sadness filled me, and I tried to remember why.

I had never been to this grove before, and yet it felt so familiar. Hobs called my name, and I circled to see him standing there behind me. As soon as I saw the expression on his face, I remembered something about being sad. I had lost him somehow, but that seemed impossible, now. Here he was, looking as calm and carefree as he had the last time we had been together.

His hand found mine. The contours of his palms felt natural against my skin, and I tried to recall why that was wrong. He wore white too, blending into the air until I began to suspect that the evil hag had gotten to us and we were dead. He kicked my bare foot mischievously. I kicked him back and he laughed. No, we weren't angels. My stomach rumbled in hunger, another reminder we were very much alive.

Hobs smiled down at me, the wind blowing against his white shirt. He plucked a pomegranate fruit from a tree and cracked it open, peeling out three seeds. "Eat. They won't hurt you." He brought the seeds to my lips, and I clamped my mouth stubbornly shut against them. In mock exasperation, he chucked the seeds at me and I ran from him, laughing.

My dress caught the wind. I felt free, though it wasn't too long before I was back in his arms. He swung me around until he held me tightly. My laughter cut short at his intense expression. I was drawn to it. With a sinking in my stomach, I realized my sadness had something to do with how I felt about him.

He studied me in return. "You're so beautiful." I was shocked that he was so solemn, and he laughed, making that sound tragic, too. He smoothed my dark hair from my face. "It's been so long, _Leannan Sith_. I've always loved you . . ."

I woke up from his confession with that same strong hand warming my fingers. "Do you want to go home?"

Feeling groggy, I opened my eyes. The spell of sleep was immediately broken. I didn't know why I had been expecting Hobs. Well, I _had_ been dreaming about him, but the man holding my hand in the dim morning light was gorgeous. Not that Hobs wasn't attractive, but this man took my breath away. He had coal-black eyes and sand in his hair. Uh yeah—sand. Something was wrong.

"Follow me." His hand stroked my cheek, his eyes smoldering. He didn't need to speak. I knew what was in those eyes, such amazing eyes—they worshipped me, but they didn't belong to Hobs. So, why should I care? With the knowledge of wakefulness, I remembered why I was so sad. Hobs was someone else's prince. I searched out his bedroll in the snow. He slept across the way in his rumpled clothes, his hand resting in the fire. I jumped. Hobs wasn't lying—the flames didn't burn. The fire gave the predawn air an unearthly glow—appropriate, considering where we were.

Babs was still asleep, her head burrowed into my side. She used my coat for a pillow. Bugul snored loudly a little farther away. It was the loudest I had ever heard him. Did that mean the muting spell was wearing off? They were all sleeping so heavily. It wasn't too much of a stretch to believe that this beautiful man who now invaded my personal space had done something sinister to cause it.

He tugged at my hand again, oozing a charm that a normal person would not be able to resist. "Come." When I didn't, he knelt next to me in the snow, cutting a dashing figure in his blue tailcoat, white knickers, and boots—everything a Prince Charming should be. He was nothing like Hobs—Hobs wasn't mine anyway.

I sighed. "I can't."

The beautiful man looked confused. His eyebrows drew in, which almost made me laugh. He must always get what he wanted, but one: I wasn't a morning person. My whole family knew that. And two: my newly opened heart was broken. I tried to wave the dream away, and buried my face back into the arm I used as my pillow.

The man changed tactics, his fingers sliding through my messed-up hair until they were hopelessly entangled, which actually didn't feel very romantic at all. He chanted something. _"Brow-girt with golden circlet, that doth bear A small bright scintillating star between Her braids of dusky hair."_ I pulled up to stare at the guy, and he drew me to him, his lips a breath away from mine. "That, my love, is who you are, though you are even more perfect in person than those words suggest."

I struggled to my knees and removed my fingers from his with difficulty. Yes. Something didn't feel right. I didn't normally feel anything, yet somehow this guy had managed to snag a bit of my heart. Just a bit of it. Someone I refused to think about still had a huge chunk of it, but even that felt more natural than this. Who was this guy? I sat up, still feeling like this was a dream. He was too charming, too slick, too handsome. If this wasn't a dream . . . he was evil. Wasn't he?

My head ached. I glanced over at Babs, and my mouth dropped. She was further away. Hobs and Bugul were too. They slept where I had left them. The man had led me away from the protective circle of fire. Subtle shades of pink and orange filtered through the trees of the forest. The sun was already rising, which meant I had been stuck in some strange spell that made me forget time. How long had we been going at this?

I planted my feet and cleared my throat, getting ready for the biggest inner struggle of my life. "I can't go with you."

The beautiful man looked surprised, and I knew I had to think fast before he turned into a monster and carried me away. I mean, the guy didn't have a shadow. The fact that I didn't have one either was irrelevant. I brushed some of his sand off my hand. He must work for the hag, and she needed to trick me away from Babs to get her.

I tried to think of an escape while throwing him off guard. " _Though I like you."_

"You like me?" He chuckled low in his throat and reached for my hand again. "No, _you love me_." His words were alluring, and silly. The spell he was weaving made me feel lethargic, but I didn't think it was working like it was supposed to. It probably meant there was something wrong with me. Maybe I did have a sliver of ice still left in my heart. For once, it worked in my favor.

"Your shadow's gone," I said. "Has it run away from you too?" His eyebrows drew in, and I decided to play the flirtatious card. " _My love_." I could probably get some information out of him this way. My heart beat heavily at the danger, which I figured was very near to infatuation. "Who sent you?"

"The same one who sent your _protector_ , but he didn't do his job. Never fear, my dear, I will."

"My protector?" Our protector was Bugul. The wolves, nymphs, and Merrow had made that clear, but this man was talking about Hobs. I was sure of it. I had to ferret out the truth once and for all. "Was Hobs sent by the queen?"

The man tried to yank me to him again, but I rooted myself to the ground like a tree. "The talisman he wears." He desperately tried to catch my eyes. "It will show you his orders. Believe me. He doesn't do any of this for you. He wants you for himself."

_Me?_ My hand tightened over the man's and I started tugging him back. I'd make him tell me what he meant. It was Babs everyone wanted, not me. "You're lying."

"Would I lie to my lo . . ." He gulped mid-word, for the first time seeing the horrible Bugul sleeping behind us. "What is that?"

I gave him my most dangerous smile. "Just one of my protectors."

"That's why Hobany hasn't . . ." He backed away, but his hand was still interlocked with mine, and I came unwillingly with him, sliding through the slick snow. I tried to get away, but if I didn't go voluntarily, then what? He'd take me kicking and screaming? These faeries would do anything to get me away from the princess, but I wouldn't leave her alone, not here, not with them.

The nerves in my brain finally felt like they were connecting, and as I felt them reach wherever I kept my fear center, I screamed as loud as my lungs could carry my voice. I gasped for air, seeing the glowing eyes of the Grim appear behind the man in the deepest, darkest part of the forest, like they were waiting for me the whole time. Now real terror exploded through my body, and I screamed again. The sound of it echoed through the woods. I twisted to see Bugul, Hobs, and Babs still sleeping soundly. They were caught in a spell—they had to be, not to hear that.

The beautiful man smiled crookedly. "Play with fire and you get burned, my lovely oaf."

"What?" I shouted. "And I suppose you think you're the fire? Did they actually think you were enough to tempt me into the woods? You're frog's breath, as far as I'm concerned."

I really didn't think he'd get it, but his dark eyes sliced into furious slits, and, wrenching me to him, he threw me over his shoulder. The sand from his hair spilled over me, and I choked on the dust of it. "Disgusting!" I shouted. "What are you, a sand creature?"

He growled in response, and I tried to fight him, but it did no good. I knew I was small, but I had no idea how small until now. "Let me go!" I threw my fists against him.

His elegant boots thudded beneath me as he brought me closer to the thickest part of the forest. The light of the sun traveled over the top of the trees, brightening the world, but leaving the foliage in the woods alone. It was still as black as night inside the thick snarl of branches and thorns. "Got your supper," he announced to the Grim. I kicked him hard. He grunted at the impact, but my satisfaction was short-lived when I tumbled over the guy into the slippery snow like an offering to the dark forest.

"Hobs!" I shouted. Forget what the man said about him. Whether it was true or not, it was time for Hobs to break whatever sleeping spell he had over him and come claim his ill-gotten captive. I'd figure out how to escape him later. "Hobs!" I shouted. "Please! I need you!"

My hands paled in response, and I stared down at them as the warmth of the nymph kisses left my skin in a rush. It turned them all cold and tingly. Uh-oh. What had I done? A white color crept up my arms where Hobs had slathered the nymph kisses all over me. What had _he_ done?

The beautiful man's angry face swooped down next to mine. He clawed at my wrists and pulled me off the ground so he could chuck me into that horrible forest. I fell headlong into the rough branches of a pine. It didn't hurt as badly as being separated from Babs. The ache in my head felt like it would split me in two.

I slipped over the fresh powder, feeling the snow explode under my chin. My hands hurt with the cold and were hard to move. I scrambled to my trembling feet, and my gaze went up and up and up, seeing tall and beautiful women with pale skin and shimmering eyes surround me. These were the Shades? I took a deep breath. They were just ghosts. What could they possibly do to me?

One Shade drifted my way, catching me in the swish of her skirts. It sent searing pain through my arm. I cried out. Okay, so that's what they could do. A deep burn pulsed through my suddenly white skin. Another Shade came at me, and I ran the other direction, tripping over some tree roots. I almost fell flat on my face, until something tickled over my feet—brown bodies, too many of them, scurrying past. I firmly righted myself to keep from landing on them. _Kobold._ Nasty sighting number two.

Darker, humanlike shapes loomed over me, making me forget all about the creepy-crawly things. I staggered backwards. These creatures were horned and tall as trees. One of the wispy silhouettes howled at me, and I covered my head, trying to hide. There was no escape. Awful, terrifying things crowded me in.

The beautiful man laughed from the safety of the clearing. Sunlight filtered through the trees over him. "The Grim howl when someone is about to die," he called out. "You can no longer hide behind your protectors, my love."

The Grim's massive black fur bristled as they came closer. Their fangs dripped with spittle. The tallest of them bent completely in half, leaping for me. I fell back against the tree and covered my head with my freezing hands, waiting for the feeding frenzy. Nothing happened. The Grim's howl broke into a pained one. I opened my eyes to see it fall just short of me, an arrow stuck through its back. Hobs' arrow? There was no sign of him. I looked past the arrow, seeing the Shades slither closer, screaming out vengeance. Their skirts moved in rhythm with their hips like runway models out for the kill.

I ducked behind the wounded body of the Grim. It jerked fitfully until it lay still in the blood-flecked snow. I listened to the Shades make hissing noises deep inside elegant throats. Their soft slippers crunched into the snow. They would burn me alive with a touch. They stopped moving, and I knew they were standing in front of me. The thought sent prickles through my skin. I looked up just as one reached out a graceful hand. Before it could get me, it screamed out in surprise and dropped to the snow with a sick thud.

I tucked in my feet, making myself as small as possible. The first Shade faded into the ground, but a new one dove for me, only to collapse next to the other one. Another shrieked and charged, followed by another, all of them meeting the same fate, plummeting around me like drops of deadly rain. I tried to make myself even smaller, knowing they would sting me if we touched, but they melted into the snow, each leaving a single arrow behind.

The last Shade made a break for me, her white arms stretched out noodle-like. An arrow struck her through. Instead of snatching at the offending shaft, she clawed for my face and evaporated like morning dew, an arrow the only thing left of her.

Before I could crawl away, Hobs lifted me to my feet, half carrying me, half supporting me. It helped that I was so much shorter than him. "Told you these could pierce any hide," he said into my hair.

I clung to him in shock. He had come for me. His arms felt safe and, being so close to him, they warmed me instantly. His eyes, when they found mine, were protective. Hobs couldn't be as bad as everyone made him out to be. More Grim howled from the trees, filling the forest with their cries. "What are you doing out here?" he shouted through the noise.

Before I could answer, more furry brown bodies scuttled over my feet. I shrieked, fighting the urge to jump onto Hobs' back to escape them. "That guy. That really beautiful, charming guy." I tried to point him out, but couldn't find him.

Hobs pulled me closer and fished out the faery dust from his backpack. The stuff was supposed to work like a blindfold—Cherry Blossom or Bubbles or whoever it was had promised it would. I could've used it against that jerk who threw me in the forest. My head was pounding out its punishment. Hobs searched my drained face in worry. "Let's get you back to Babs, okay?"

We crossed the dark threshold of the overhanging trees, entering the bright wintery morning, when _drop-dead-_ g _orgeous_ himself slithered out from behind a tree. He gave us both a disarming smile. "Why hello there, Mr. Hobany. Just leave the girl with me. That's right. We were only having a bit of fun."

Hobs smiled back, but with none of his usual biting sarcasm. What was wrong with him? They weren't in cahoots, were they? Or maybe the gorgeous guy had more mind tricks than I thought. I could see he had every intention of putting Hobs under his smooth-talking spell. "Sorry, Gan," Hobs surprised me by saying. "I don't think you're _that_ charming."

I sagged with relief, especially when I noticed the faery dust that dusted Hobs' eyelashes. He must've thrown it in his eyes to be safe. Gan treated us to another shocked look, turning from me to Hobs.

"What's the matter?" Hobs asked. "Nobody's falling for your smarmy act today? You must be getting on in years. No one can stay young and beautiful forever."

"Why do you betray the orders of your medallion?" An ugly stain of red pulsed down Gan's neck, his face pinched with anger. Hobs met the accusation with a bitter look.

I listened to a thump echoing in the distance. "What's that?" I whispered.

Hobs shifted uneasily. "Gan's shadow."

"Whose side is it on?"

"Not ours. It follows him everywhere, except it scares the ladies, doesn't it Gan?"

Gan looked smug. Judging by the sound of his shadow's footsteps, it would easily finish what he had started.

"But since Gan bungled the job already . . ." Hobs left his words hanging cruelly.

Gan kept smirking, until Bugul came out from the clearing, more than a little grumpy. His sleep had been disturbed. The Grim howled in the woods, and Bugul's hand tightened over his weapon. He stalked out the loud beasts, disappearing into the forest with his club. Since the Grim woke him up, they would be the first to go. We listened to the ensuing thuds and screams. Even after being attacked by the horrid things, I found it a little disturbing.

"Have I introduced you to our friend yet?" Hobs asked Gan. "His name's Bugul."

"Keep that Leprechaun away from me," Gan shrilled. He was used to being obeyed; either that, or he had a reason to believe Hobs would do what he said.

"Of course," Hobs said, "but can you keep away from _him_?"

"What are you say—"

Hobs brought a vial up to his nose—I recognized it as a gift from the nymphs. He sniffed it, then sneezed directly into Gan's coal-black eyes. It was completely disgusting, but actually super funny. Hobs wiped at his mouth with a chuckle.

Gan's nose wrinkled and he stepped back, revolted, but not before he began to rub viciously at his watering eyes. "What did you do to me, Hobany?"

"There she goes," Hobs whispered, pointing out Bugul's disappearing form through the opening of the trees. "Our beautiful little oaf. You can't let her get away from you now, can you?"

"The oaf?" Gan studied Bugul's swinging arms, then me, somehow confusing our identities. The vial of sneezes the faery traded for my pink lipstick must be powerful stuff. It made his mind susceptible to suggestion. Gan watched me with distaste. I crossed my eyes at him and he backed up, utterly sickened by the sight of me. Without another word, he took off after Bugul. He'd have quite the surprise waiting for him.

Hobs snickered. "Looks like the nymphs made up an extra-good batch of sneezes this year. I hope Bugul can take care of himself." Hobs seemed to be talking to himself.

"You haven't used any of that on me, have you?" I cut in.

"What—have I sneezed on you lately?"

"No, but you did put nymph kisses all over me!" I held up my hands. Now that they were close to him, they were glowing again.

He grinned unabashedly, holding his glowing hand against mine. I felt a rush of heat spread up to my elbow in reaction to his touch. It felt even warmer than before. "As soon as you left the clearing," he said, "my hand throbbed so badly I thought my frog's breath ran out on the fire. Only it was cold, not hot. What? You're not mad, are you?" Looking defensive, his fingers wrapped over mine. "I had to put a tracker on you. Good thing I did, too."

"Remind me to wash this stuff off!"

"Never. I like keeping you around." He treated me to his most charming smile, and despite my best intentions, I felt myself warming to it. "We don't have much time before Gan's shadow comes and finds us." He drew us closer to our own little Sleeping Beauty, and the tiara eased over my head. Hobs still had his arm around me. The heat from his body almost made me forget what Gan had told me about him--almost, and I watched him tensely.

_"Do not fall in love with a faery."_ The tiara buzzed around my ears as a reminder, and I winced. Certainly the guy with me hadn't set that off. His eyes widened and I remembered Hobs could hear it too. "You're kidding? You fell for the love talker?" He sounded a little irritated—more than irritated.

Gan was a love talker? Hobs let go and landed on his knees in front of the fire, cramming the rest of our stuff into the backpack, still muttering crossly. I saw the chain of his medallion glisten on his neck.

"Hobs," I said. "The love talker talked. It wasn't just about love. He told me about you."

"He's the fool of the _Tuatha de Danann_ court. Don't listen to him."

We didn't have time to argue about it. Assuming we escaped Gan's shadow, this was my last day to get Babs home. We had until the stroke of midnight. I couldn't waste my last day wandering the Sidhe in circles. I dropped on my hands and knees next to Hobs. I wasn't sure how I could get his talisman close enough to see the orders he had written on it, but I had to try.

"Hobs?" I rested my hand on his broad shoulder, just inches from that necklace. He smelled faintly of musk—like no cologne I had ever smelled, probably some faerie brand.

He glanced down at my fingers, his breath warm on my cold skin. To my surprise, it quickened. "What are you doing?" For once, he looked shaken. I didn't have enough time to be amused. His cheek brushed against mine as he found my wrist, and he laughed a little self-consciously when he pulled my hair from his. "Stop that. I can't think when your hair's tickling my chin."

He tried to peel my fingers off his shoulder, then hesitated the moment our hands brushed—they glowed by the merest touch, and I felt the warmth spread everywhere he had applied the nymph kisses. I could see it was doing the same thing to him. He held his breath and looked directly into my eyes. I tried not to fall back when the smoldering darkness in them burned into mine. I didn't want him to suspect what I was really after, so I gave him my most innocent smile. He swallowed. "Sorry," he whispered after a moment.

_For what?_ He lifted a cautious hand to my hair, and then I understood. More lay between us than the distance between our lips, which wasn't much, just a lift of my chin—but no, this was crazy. He was a mischievous devil-raising faery. _He blows out candles and kisses girls in the darkness._ I felt his fingers at the back of my neck, gently guiding me to him.

He was going to kiss me--but no. He didn't mean any of this. I couldn't let him distract me with his kisses, even if a part of me wanted him to do it. Too much was at stake. Life. Death. My heart. The only truth lay in the talisman resting against his chest, and my fingers fumbled for it, catching it by its delicate chain. I slid it out from his shirt.

Before our lips could touch, I read the inscription aloud: "The order of _Cailleach Beiradas siebte der siebten_." That was confusing. Cailleach Beira? It told me nothing.

His hand on my wrist tightened. I was close enough to notice the flash of pain behind his eyes. "What have you done? We almost . . ." He stopped short, letting out an unstable breath. "Let's hope your pronunciation was bad enough not to bring _her_ here." Snow fell gently over us and he frowned at it. "You might have invoked the hag."

"The hag?" I cried. "Why do you have her name on your medallion?"

"I'll tell you later." Hobs dragged me to my feet, gathering up the backpack in the same movement. He paused when he saw the sleeping Babs. There was no way we could leave without her. Of course not. He was using me to get to her anyway. Surely he wasn't lying about her identity, too? He groaned, looking torn. "Okay, yeah, I work for her _._ "

He let me go. The backpack fell to the snow with a thud. He knit his fingers behind his head, staring up at the morning sky. The snow came down heavier. "We can't get out of here in time." He turned to me as if trying to read my face. "I'm sorry . . . I really am." He said this a bit reproachfully, and his arms dropped. "I waited as long as I could. There's only one way to break this curse. And now the ice has completely melted. I'm sure of it. I don't think it will shatter."

The cold morning snow drifted past his face, staining his cheeks red with the chill, obstructing his long lashes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he looked apologetic, a little vulnerable, and a lot determined. "You're going to have to trust me. Okay?" His hands found mine and they trailed to my elbows as he pulled me closer—the nymph kisses went crazy over our skin.

His lips stopped just short of mine. "Trust me?" Was he actually going to kiss me? After the trick I played—after the trick _he_ played? Was I going to let him?

I closed my eyes. His breath froze into the air as he bent closer. The mist of it built around us and I knew the moment the hag materialized between us. Her silky curls smashed against my nose. My eyes opened, then went cross-eyed when I saw her black hair.

The hag faced Hobs, her arms crossed in front of her in full Snow Queen splendor. Before he could stop himself, he kissed her frozen mouth. He stumbled back, gasping painfully as his own mouth frosted into a nasty blue.

A cruel smile raced across the Snow Queen's unpleasant face. She shifted. Her dress groaned in protest. It was made entirely of ice and snow, and jingled like armor. Larger snowflakes floated down over us and Hobs' eyes darted to them warily. It didn't take me long to figure out why.

As soon as the flakes hit the hard ground, they shifted into beautiful waiflike guards. The Cyclops landed on his feet next to them and glared down at us. The ogres hit the ground a little harder. The wolves were next, their claws clicking against the ice, except they didn't grin as cheerfully as the dimwitted ogres did. And why should they? They had to stand next to the stinky things.

The Snow Queen tapped her foot in irritation. Hobs' eyes shifted from my surprised expression to her disapproving one. He wiped at his freezing lips. "Why, hello, Mother."

# Chapter Eighteen

My arms are withered and thin,

My hair once golden is grey;

'Tis winter—my reign doth begin—

Youth's summer has faded away.

—Donald Alexander Mackenzie, _Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend_

"Well, well, Hobany." The Snow Queen laughed and he did too, though a little cautiously. "You weren't going to actually kiss her, were you?"

His eyes grew serious at that and he refused to answer.

"I can't trust you to do anything. Why do you think I sent Gan?" She gave a mean smile. "Someone had to trick the trickster." The Snow Queen picked up her ornate skirts and circled her son, frost curling over the ground everywhere her ice slippers touched. Her hand sliced forward, and she ripped Hobs' medallion away from his neck with nails as sharp as icicles. "Stupid thing stopped me from keeping better tabs on you. I'll never make that mistake again!"

"Mother, you're overreacting. I was going to bring her to you."

Excuse me?

"Overreacting?" she cried. The medallion twisted through her white fingers. "Don't you tell me I'm overreacting! I raised you for better things than this . . . this . . . oaf! Tell me this isn't some cruel joke, this pitiful reenactment of Beauty and the Beast!"

I gulped. Beauty and the Beast? I didn't know the Sidhe version of the story. I knew the faerytale—it was about two star-crossed lovers, not the betrayal of a baby. I didn't think it fit us at all—unless Hobs was the beast! It would explain why he had been so difficult in the beginning, but looking at his face and the way he watched me now, it was hard to imagine he meant me harm.

Babs was waking up. She stretched on the ground, her silky hair spread over my coat and the blankets Hobs had dropped over her. Hobs must've turned against his mother for her. Who wouldn't fall for our little imp?

"Oh c'mon, Mother. She can't love. You made sure of that. What are you so worried about?"

My heart lurched at that. _Poor Babs._ She was just a little girl stuck in the middle of a crown war. The hag could take her curses and choke on them! None of this was Babs' fault. The little girl wiped the sleep from her eyes, looking up at me. I tried to break away from the hag's soldiers to get to her, but Cyclops stood in my way. His eyes watered, and I remembered that he was allergic to humans. It made me want to rub my hands all over his creepy face.

"Unless you try to break the curse _._ Then she can love!" His mother shrieked at her son. "The ice I put in her has melted. Any fool can see that. Did you do that to her? You wanted to claim her power for yourself. That's what this is!"

Of course, the ice had melted. Babs couldn't rule unless she loved a mortal—me—and she did. Hobs was her prince, and he would rule with her. I had played right into his hands.

Bugul, poor mute Bugul, had tried to warn us, and now he was missing because Hobs had tricked him too. And I almost let that traitor kiss me! _Never, never fall in love with a faery_ . . . or at the very least, don't let them kiss you! I remembered the first faery kiss I had witnessed. It banished the faery queen's lover from the Otherworld. Was Hobs going to do that to me too? Now that I had melted the ice in Babs' heart, he didn't need me anymore . . . and then _the love of mortals fades from view_. That's how he'd get rid of me. He even warned me against faery kisses. It was all such a cruel joke!

"Hobsh?" Babs was finally aware of what was happening. Her cheek was red from the cold ground. She turned from him to me, looking scared. "Halley?"

I tried to shove past Cyclops, but he stopped me with a beefy hand. "Where you going?" He tried to threaten me back with his hard eye.

I refused to let him intimidate me. "Leave her alone! She's just a kid."

"She cares for the girl?" The Snow Queen gaped at me with horror. "Disobedient boy. I should've known your word meant nothing." She turned her icy eyes on him, and his lips turned even bluer. His breath came out in a mist, but still he met her glare in defiance.

She wouldn't turn her own son into an ice cube, would she? "Don't hurt him!" I shouted out, surprising even myself.

The Snow Queen's expression grew haunted, and she studied her son with new loathing. "No, it couldn't be _you_." She exhaled, filling the air with frost. "I am a fool. You would know it as soon as you touched her! You are this oaf's consort. And I sent you to her?"

Cyclops' hands were the size of tree branches, and they clawed into fists. His hideous eye rolled up into his eyelid until it went red. Hobs shouted out a warning before falling to his knees—his frozen legs couldn't support his weight. "No, Balor! Stop!"

Beams of intense red light shot from the Cyclops' eye. I twisted and felt the heat shoot out at me, but then something weird happened. It deflected off my shoulder and hit Cyclops full in the chest. He grunted and fell flat to the ground. Had I done that? My chest heaved from the exertion.

"Protection from the good faery queen," the hag's minions whispered.

" _Good?_ " the queen snarled. They fell back at her wrath. "The child." She spun from me to glare down at Babs. "She has no protection from the faery queen. The two go together! Get her and you have the other."

The wolves swarmed in, and Hobs held out an ineffectual hand. His teeth chattered, but still he tried to stop his mother. He pushed up from the ground, but his body was freezing, and there was no way he could get to us. Cyclops drew a saw-toothed dagger and turned it menacingly on me.

"Balor," Hobs hissed at the Cyclops. "Don't." The Cyclops ignored him, lunging, but I maneuvered deftly away, knowing I had to get to Babs. His vision was blinded by his watering eye. His allergies were the only thing I had going for me.

"Run!" I shouted to Babs.

She held out her hands to me. "Halley! Halley! Don't leave me!"

It would kill me to be separated from her, but she had to escape. I couldn't fight them off forever. "Go! Please!" I shouted at her. "Run while you can!" She scrambled to her feet, kicking the blankets from her little snow boots to run, and I saw the Grim coming in from the outskirts of the forest to meet her. "No! Stop!" I cried. "Don't go!"

Babs hesitated, not sure what to do. Tears streamed down her face. Her ragged breath shook her small frame. She wouldn't make it out there in the dark woods without me. _I_ couldn't even survive out there. Only when the princess knew who she was would she have power, but it was useless. I had failed her. I had no idea who she was.

The wolves circled me, growling. I had tried every name I could think of, everything but . . . "Beauty!" I borrowed it from the Snow Queen. Her head twisted around at my guess and she guffawed. Hobs glared at her, but there was nothing he could do to help us. He collapsed to the cold snow, choking with the pain.

"Your names have no power here," the queen told me.

"Babs! You're Babs!" It was a long shot and I watched for some sort of reaction from my girl, but there was nothing. I had it all wrong, didn't I? I just wanted to break the curse and give Babs back her power, but I was losing her. She loved me, but it was no good. I didn't have the power to give my kid a name. If I didn't help her, she could never rule. I would disappear and it would all be in vain.

The delicate little waifs got to her first and plucked her off the ground. The redhead had Babs in her arms and I cried out when they dragged her away from me. The tiara over my head wracked me in agony. They tucked her in a sled carved from ice.

"Halley! Halley! Hobsh!" she sobbed. Her small fingers wrapped around the rope on the sled. "Help me!"

I couldn't fight them with my head throbbing so badly, but I couldn't let the Snow Queen know it. I tried to bluff them. "I'm her protector and keeper," I cried. "I won't let you hurt her."

The Snow Queen gave me a secretive smile that reminded me painfully of her son. He glowered up at her, doubled over. He couldn't talk anymore, couldn't give me an idea of what to do. "What will you give me in exchange?" she asked me.

"What do you want?"

"Your promise. Your promise that you will not fight me."

_Never break a promise to a faery_ , the tiara reminded me. Could I do it? Would it be enough to save Babs? I turned to study her face. Tears stained her baby soft cheeks. All my fear and distrust returned tenfold. Was this what love did to us—made us helpless? Love would make me more vulnerable than I had ever been. Being normal was the worst thing ever.

_"You cannot love,"_ the Snow Queen whispered _, "for if you do, the love of mortals fades from view."_ I blanched. I recognized that alright. That was Babs' curse. The hag laughed.

I glared. No. They might take Babs away from me, but my love would never fade. I wouldn't stop loving her. The pain I felt would never belong to this little girl. I couldn't let them hurt her, even if it hurt me in the end. "And if I make that promise, you won't hurt her?" I asked the hag. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, but she nodded. "Then you must promise Hobs!" I shouted. "Promise your son that you won't hurt her!" He was a faery. No matter if they were on the same team, if the witch gave Hobs a promise, she'd have to keep to it.

She rolled her eyes, but did it anyway. "Hobs, my good, young, _faithful_ son, I promise I won't hurt this little girl if I get the promise that I've asked _from her keeper_."

Relief filled me at her words and I breathed in deeply. "Then I promise that I will not fight you."

The look Hobs gave me filled me with about a million self-doubts. "What . . . have you done?" he got out.

"Are you kidding? You didn't really give me a choice, Hobs. What were you planning on doing with Babs if it wasn't this? Did you plan on stealing what was rightfully hers?"

The witch's laughter sounded like the tinkling of bells and was just as annoying. "What would my son want with that child—a human?" Her mouth twisted into an ugly smirk. "It's _you_ he wants." Her sneer punctuated each word like a knife. "Don't you know who you are, little changeling?"

I stopped short, my head reeling as I tried to digest what she was saying. A changeling was a faery child switched at birth with a human. I knew that much from Midsummer Night's Dream. But that was supposed to be Babs, so who had she swapped lives with? Or had I swapped my life with hers? I trembled with the realization. Was that why I had faery sight? I was one? But why now? What had changed? I knew the answer. My mother's kiss.

My knees buckled. The faery queen was calling _me_ her baby, not Babs. I circled to the one who I considered mine. Babs looked fragile under the hands of the witch's followers. She looked human. Was that what my mother was trying to tell me, that my destiny was hers? It didn't seem possible that we had been switched at birth. Babs was so young . . . because humans couldn't be touched by the years here.

"I knew it," one of the wolves growled under his breath. I dumbly watched the paws exchange money.

It was just a bet to them. And to me? My whole life had just changed. I pieced everything together. My distrust. My sickness at birth. The curse. My happy family of tall blonde sisters. Babs fit in perfectly with them. She _belonged_ with them. How could the witch be so heartless as to rip her from their arms and replace her with me? Babs could have grown up happy and fulfilled. And me? What of me? I was supposed to be here in this cold place. Somehow it all fit, though I desperately didn't want it to. I felt a loss so painful that I tried to push it back, but it was impossible. My family wasn't really my family.

"You didn't know, did you?" The Snow Queen looked mildly amused. "My son told you nothing. How _charming_."

"You weren't ready," Hobs told me through chattering teeth. "You still aren't . . . I had no choice . . ." He gave his mother a look of fury.

She cooed at him. "Look at you, my dear. You're freezing. Let me kiss it better." She had already numbed him with the first kiss and she leaned down to deliver a second. "I can no longer give you my protection, Hobany, I'm so sorry."

He tried to pull back. "Mother . . ."

"I can't have you turning on me, again." She kissed him on his right cheek and he groaned in pain. "Stop fighting me," she hissed, "or I'll do more than take away your powers, my darling."

"What will you do? Kiss me to death?"

Her lips hesitated over him. "I will save you from yourself, Hobany. I hereby banish you from this dreary place. Send you some place . . . safer." With that, she gave him a final kiss on his left cheek. He glared up at her with a tortured look, gasping for air as thousands of ant-sized sprites circled him in a cloud, flying faster and faster until he blurred before our eyes and disappeared into a flurry of snow.

At my separation from him, my arms grew instantly pale and then frosted over. The frost then fell off me in a sprinkle of dust until my skin went normal. The nymph kisses were gone. "Hobs," I whispered. Losing him hurt worse than his betrayal. What had he done to me? Before, I couldn't feel, and now . . .

The wolves pawed through the backpack, taking anything of value. The cotton, the frog's breath, the nymph kisses. Glasses hesitated at the book of faerytales, sniffing at it until he finally clamped onto it with his drooling canines. My earrings and bracelets they left on the ground where other scavenging faeries could find them. I didn't see the love potion anywhere. Maybe Hobs had used it on me already. But no, what I felt for him was very real. I just didn't want it.

The Snow Queen frowned at me. She stepped into the sled with Babs, winding the reins around her delicate fingers.

"Why are you taking her?" I had to somehow bargain her back. "She's just a human. Give her to me."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, you can't be separated from her, can you? Don't ask me why your mother did that. She must like to see you in pain, since she never told you the _truth_. She has made all of us suffer, and now it's your turn. It hurts, doesn't it? Just like love. Remember that the next time you're tempted to try it again."

"Halley!" Babs called out to me.

"She is _not_ Halley," the witch told her impatiently. "You are!" I cried out when the sled pulled away with a crack of a whip. It drifted higher and higher in the sky in a flurry of snow. The pain screamed through my head. This pain was my destiny. It wasn't with Babs. Her destiny to rule the Sidhe was never hers, but mine. The thought ran through my mind until I sobbed for mercy.

"You have no power here," the witch's voice echoed above me, just like it had from the rafters in the Omak stage in my hometown—no, not my home. Babs'. She was lost in the clouds of the Sidhe, and I felt her drift farther away. "Leave this place, girl . . . or die!" The hag cackled. I felt the painful reality of it in my mind. "You know nothing of this place, nothing of who you are."

Who did? And now that I knew, I still didn't. I couldn't save Babs. Hobs was banished far away, and I couldn't help either of them. And worse, without them I was lost. How could I even save myself?

# Chapter Nineteen

That little outcast grew a fairy girl,

A beautiful, a most beloved one.

There was a charm in every separate curl

Whose rings of jet hung glistening in the sun,

Which warm'd her marble brow. There was a grace

Peculiar to herself, ev'n from the first:

Shadows and thoughtfulness you seem'd to trace

Upon that brow . . .

—Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton _, The Undying One_

I chased after the sled's flying shadow until my head ached more than I could take and I collapsed to the ground. I could no longer see my Babs. The separation was too much. Tears poured down my cheeks—they were the first that I had cried. Hobs would be proud. Thinking about Hobs made me cry even harder. _No, he wouldn't be proud._ I tugged out the swirly toy from the deep pockets of my jacket, but I couldn't see Babs. I just heard sobbing in a snowstorm. I whimpered in response and threw the toy from me. It rattled over the snow.

They had left me here to die. I only had until the stroke of midnight. If being torn away from Babs didn't kill me, the hunger and cold would. I lost everyone I loved. My family was gone, and to make it worse, now I actually cared. Babs was destined to become a minion to that evil hag, and Hobs had betrayed me. I wasn't sure how long I lay there in the snow, but it wasn't enough to numb the pain.

The sun lowered over the trees, attempting to put an end to this awful day and to my awful stay in the Sidhe. Death was the only way out. My body shook uncontrollably. I wasn't sure if it was because Babs was gone or if it was growing colder, but in a matter of minutes, I watched dumbly as the ice climbed up the trees. The air crackled under the pressure. The frost spread into my hair, weighing down my head. My tears froze onto my cheeks. How many hours until midnight?

A cold and gentle hand touched the back of my head. I listened to the voice. It was caring. "I cannot take this away from you, but I can make you forget."

Forget? That this had ever happened? I looked up to see a beautiful faery—like the ones I was used to seeing in faerytales, not the ones I had seen here. She knelt by my side, her lavender skirts spread prettily over the frozen ground. Her wings fluttered, making a musical sound. "Did my mother send you?" I asked her.

She smiled a little sadly and stroked my frozen hair. "None of this was supposed to happen. The curse was too much. The human child wasn't the one who was special—you are. I can make you forget all about her. You won't have to hurt anymore." Her glowing fingers toyed with the tiara on my head. "It would be so easy."

To forget Babs? I remembered the curse. _My_ curse. When I loved, the love of mortals would fade from view. Was it because I would cause Babs so much pain? How long until she hated me? Maybe she already did. "Who are you?" I asked.

"A friend." She pulled out a juicy red apple, and I gaped at the familiar threat. This was no friend—did she think I was stupid? Snow White, Eve, and now me—we all had the same temptation. Why had they given in? Did they want to go home? Surrender? Maybe they were just hungry. I felt my stomach growl.

Even though Hobs said I didn't have to eat here, old habits were hard to break. The little faery folded my hand over the apple. Even to my numb fingers, it was frozen to the touch. My tiara buzzed a reminder through my head. _Don't eat the food._ "A gift," she said. "Take it to forget."

"Can't," I mumbled into the ground. "I can't eat the food."

"No, no, of course not, not here. Take it home where no pain can touch you. Then you can eat it. It will make you forget everything. Look how red and juicy." The faery had the power of a siren and I stared at the apple in my hand. The tiara reminded me of the rules again: _Don't eat the food. Don't eat . . ._

I wished more than anything that I could just rip the hated thing off my head. I was a rule breaker anyway, right? When we broke the rules, we faced the consequences. I could forget Babs. I could forget Hobs and his plans to use me. I could forget that I was just some misfit who didn't belong in the Otherworld, make it seem like this never happened. The wolves howled in the distance.

The faery's head lifted and her wings rubbed together, sounding like bells. "They are coming." She studied me with worry and I shook my head. How could I forget Babs? She needed me. "You must leave," she said with a gentle bite to her lip, "before they catch you."

"How?"

"You're on a faery ring. Transport yourself back home."

For the first time I became aware of where I was. The dark circle beneath me had singed through the snow. My head ached and I squeezed my eyes shut, not able to think clearly. I had to stop the pain, but I wasn't sure how. Hobs would know, but I couldn't trust him, even if I could get to him. I gritted my teeth. "It didn't work before."

Her hand pressed down on my head. "You didn't have a faery who would grant you any wish you desire."

My eyes flicked open. A wish. Hobs had warned me about wishes. Why did this little faery want me to leave so badly? And why should I care? I just wanted to go home. I was in so much pain. "I wish . . ." I whispered. "I wish . . . I wish . . ." I wished that I could save Babs. I wished that Hobs were here, and that he could help me, but I had to face reality. We weren't on the same side. I felt another tear rush down my cheek, and I sobbed into the ground. He had lied to me. Why would he help me now?

The faery pushed the swirly toy in my hand, and I stared into the face of it, seeing the ones from the Otherworld I had left behind: my father, my mother, Daphne, the twins. "You'll be in your warm bed in the arms of your loving family. They will be yours again."

Yes, but they didn't love me—not really—now that I loved them. It was the curse. Everything I loved would be torn from me. I saw them with different eyes. The twins were a little older. My mother happily fixed matching bows in their hair. It was snowing outside the kitchen window. My dad walked to the fridge, teasing everyone until my mom threw a ribbon at him. Daphne and someone else with a similar—though sweeter—voice than mine giggled off to the side. My family was better off with the shadow of me.

The hag had played it brilliantly. She could've placed me in a horrid home, but instead I was the bad one. I never could hope to compare to my stolen family in beauty and grace and affection. If I couldn't love such a sweet group, I could never be expected to love anyone else—except the hag hadn't counted on Babs. She had broken the curse. And now that I knew how much my family meant to me, it was too late. They weren't mine. The hopelessness spread deep inside my chest. The faery's cold hands crept around my arm and I gasped out. They were freezing, and I knew exactly who held me. The hag. She was in disguise, though I still recognized the arms that dragged me from my home as a baby.

Who am I?

Everything in the faerytales had yet to happen. That meant they could be happening now. I wracked my brain for some clue as to where I fit. Cinderella? There were no stolen shoes, no slavery, not yet. What else? There was an evil queen, and I had dark hair, though my singing voice could never rival a bird's—unless it was a crow—and besides that, Snow White was already taken by the evil Snow Queen. I had to try harder. What was my name?

There was an evil witch, yes, and possible imprisonment. Rapunzel was dead. Sleeping Beauty? The thought of getting trapped in a tree wasn't appealing at all. Would that be my fate? I had always slept in—my curse had put me in a dreamlike state so that I could find the Sidhe. Did that mean I had to be awakened with a kiss? I covered my face with my hands. Every curse was broken with a kiss. I thought of Hobs and banished him from my mind just as quickly. Here a kiss brought life _or_ death. Was I ready for that kind of commitment?

The cold from the hag's fingers seeped into my shoulders. The wolves whined in the distance. "Hurry, they're coming." She tried to force me into making a decision. How could I possibly be that big of a threat to her? It was like she couldn't hurt me. I wondered if it was my mother's blessing that kept me safe.

The faery chanted over my head, and it turned into a song. The tiara buzzed its warning through me. _When you hear the music, run!_ I couldn't this time, so whether I liked it or not, I was the rule breaker. Now there would be consequences. So what if I _wanted_ those consequences? I would do anything to save Babs!

I shifted on the ground when I got the idea, and I followed Hobs' example. "Thank you," I whispered into the snow. The hag winced in pain. "Thank you for the song! Thank you for the advice! Thank you for the apple!" _Never thank a faery!_ My fingers tightened over the apple, and she stiffened. "Will this faery ring take me anywhere?"

"It will take you home. Just say it: _home_." Her tongue slithered nervously over her red lips. I took a deep breath. Of course. _Rumpelstiltskin._ She was trying to exchange me for the four treasures. That's why she wasn't through with me yet. I could just imagine the cloaked and bandaged Otherworldly rubbing his greedy hands together, waiting for me on the other side as soon as I used the faery transporter. What would he do to me?

There was only one way out of this, and I needed Hobs. I whispered his name into the cold snow, and the tiara on my head went crazy. _Never call a faery by their name. It's annoying, and they have to go wherever you call._ _Or worse, it'll make you go to them._ _Poake-ledden!_ I jumped at his shout of pain, and remembered Hobs had run his knee into my dresser when he gave me that order. The tiara repeated exactly what he had said—even down to the faery swear word.

I smiled sadly. Could I even invoke Hobs after his mother had banished him from here? Well, I was lying on a transporter. If he couldn't come to me, I could go to him. That's what he was telling me, wasn't it? He had even recorded it for me.

"Hobs?" I said, but not too loudly, so his mother wouldn't overhear. Nothing happened. Anyway, that wasn't his real name. Hobany? _Love's true kiss . . . Hobs._ That's why they took him _._ Was he my true love? My Prince Charming? My heart beat heavily at the prospect. _Never fall in love with a faery. Never!_ Well, it was too late. I swallowed. It was too late. That's why it hurt so much to find out that he had betrayed me. That he never wanted me at all—just my crown.

"Hobany." I kept it down, so the hag couldn't hear, but again nothing happened, and I squinted through the pain. The name to get to him wouldn't be Hobany. Everyone here knew _that_ name; it would have to be a code so secret that no one could guess it. I tried to think of all the names he had supplied me with. There were too many. The only one I could think of was Puck, and that name was even more infamous than Hobs. He hated that name. I'd asked him if it was a swear word, and he had laughed. More tears slipped down my cheeks. I would never see him again. "Oh, Hobs." My tiara choked out another reminder. _"Never call a faery by their name. It's annoying, and they have to go wherever you call. Or worse, it'll make you go to them._ _Poake-ledden!"_

My head lifted. No! Did he really? He did! The faery swear word. It sounded like Puck. He had given me his name. "Poake-ledden!" I breathed. The moment it left my lips, I felt myself drift away from my cold spot on the ground.

The faery looked absolutely smug as everything but the apple disappeared in front of me. Poor thing thought I was going home and into the arms of our Otherworldly friend, but she couldn't be more wrong. I clenched the apple in my hand, heading for somewhere worse.

# Chapter Twenty

Speaks the soft voice of Love! "Turn, Psyche, turn!

"And see at last, released from every fear,

"Thy spouse, thy faithful knight, thy lover here!"

From his celestial brow the helmet fell,

In joy's full glow, unveiled his charms appear,

Beaming delight and love unspeakable,

While in one rapturous glance their mingling souls they tell.

—Mary Tighe, _Psyche_ ; or, _The Legend of Love_

I found myself standing on the ledge of a stone tower, staring down at the ground far below. It was a long drop to a thick bed of thorn bushes. The tower cast a long shadow over the cliffs that stretched out over a snow-spackled city of twinkling lights, the ice castle at its center. In the distance, the witch was throwing a party. I could hear wisps of faery music carrying through the wind and echoing up to us and the full moon above. The sound of it howled through the tower, no longer cheery, but haunting. It was a celebration in honor of my defeat.

"What are you going to do with that apple?"

I jerked around, watching the slow smile spread across Hobs' face. He sat on the cobblestone floor, looking only slightly surprised to see me. Besides being locked in a tower, he wasn't the worse for wear. He was barefoot in worn-out jeans and his black punk-looking shirt. His hair was messier than usual. "You have any magic beans?" he asked. "They always come in handy when you need something to climb down. Other than that, we're out of luck. The tower's indestructible. Some pigs made it."

I was torn between hugging and slapping him. Of course, he would joke at a time like this. It didn't look good for us. Without the faery ring, there was no way to get down. Thorns curled ominously beneath the window. I didn't see stairs or a door or anything we could use for a ladder. And to add to this impossible obstacle course, an ogre marched below the tower with self-important steps.

I threw the apple at Hobs and he caught it with surprisingly deft fingers. That only made me more annoyed with him. "Why don't you just jump?" I suggested. "That's a good way to get down."

"Only if you promise to heal me with your tears. You _would_ cry, right?"

I didn't answer, watching his sober face. I wasn't prepared for honesty right now. "Maybe," I said. "I'd have to use onions, of course."

Hobs stared at the apple in his hand. He held it carefully, probably knowing what potent poison coursed through it. "I had to save you." His voice was subdued, and his directness surprised me. "Despite what you think, I'm not my mother's servant. For all her beauty, for all her powers, she cannot love. She doesn't know what it is."

It sounded familiar. Well, it once was, though having no feelings didn't hurt as much as this did. I leaned against the wall and pulled myself down to sit next to him on the cobbles. It felt good to be near him, but nothing eased the tension in my head. I tried to understand what he was saying. "Who sent you for me then?"

"She did." He shrugged. "My mother awarded me a fancy medallion in some fine ceremony—ironic that it worked against her. It kept me safe from her minions. No matter how much they tried, none of them could invoke me. My mother was right, of course. I wanted you for myself. I knew it the moment I touched you." He reached for my hand, and despite his confession, I let him take it. There was something comforting about the touch of his skin on mine, not that (I told myself) it meant anything. He turned my hand over in his, his fingers tracing the delicate veins at my wrist. "The thing is . . . I'm sensitive."

I was shocked. Besides not having a sensitive bone in his body, I didn't see the correlation. Hobs bit back a self-deriding laugh, which meant he read my expression perfectly. "I'm sensitive because I see things—just glimpses of the future, really. And I feel things, too—like when I touched you for the first time. I always knew that my mother's plans would kill us all. None of us could stop her, but I had to try. I went to the Otherworld, pretending I would take you back to her, but I was going to hunt out the Otherworldly instead, make him pay for what he did to us—all of us, Ratis, you, my mother, my father . . . my brother. You were just an excuse, but when I touched you, I knew there was hope for our world. And there was more, something I never knew, though I had searched for you so long. You belonged with me."

The pain in my head wouldn't subside to numbness. I tried to hold still, but my thoughts were making me crazy. What had happened to his family? His mother's vengeance screamed of pain that I couldn't understand. And what Hobs said about me—was it true? Did I somehow belong with him? It made my heart race and didn't help the headache at all. I squinted under it.

Hobs got to his knees, sliding the hair back from my face. His expression tender, he no longer held back the affection he had for me. His hands cradled my aching head. "Where is Babs?"

"Your mother took . . ." I couldn't finish. Just knowing that Babs was somewhere in the Sidhe and I couldn't get to her was driving me crazy.

"We could've used that kid. The way her hair grows, she'd be our way out of here."

I blinked up at Hobs. "We'd be stuck up here for a really long time."

"At least we'd be together."

I groaned, knowing he was trying to figure out what my feelings were for him. I wanted to be with him, but I couldn't let myself trust him. Not like before. I dragged my head up from his capable hands—hands that seemed to have been through more than this. They were roughened from past suffering, the hands of a survivor, everything that made up him, and yet they weren't enough to help me. "Did I take Babs' place on earth?" I asked. "Is she me? Is she Halley? You need to tell me what's going on."

"She's just a mortal who got in the way."

"My poor little baby. Everyone used her to get to me. Why? I'm not a threat to anybody! I have no power. I can't even save her." I choked on a sob and hid my face from him with my hands. "I don't have a name."

"You have a beautiful name."

My hands fell to my sides. "You know it? Tell me!"

"That's not how it works. You have to remember it." That was ridiculous, and I was sure he could see my frustration. He took a steadying breath. "Listen to me. You're ready now. No potions, no tricks. I couldn't do it before. There was a shard of ice rammed in your heart that made everything I did dangerous. I could've shattered it. And if not, if you knew too soon who you were, you'd be just like the hag—unstoppable, with no heart." He searched my face. "It was genius of my mom, really. The only way to melt the ice was to love a mortal. No faery does that. Once I realized what the curse meant, I knew how hard it was going to be to break it. Why do you think we wandered the Sidhe in meaningless circles with that poor kid?"

"You didn't? All that time wasted . . . on me?"

"You needed to learn how to love. Truly love."

"And you? Why did you come along?"

"I was going in the second the ice melted. We're connected, like it or not. The hag did everything she could to keep your heart frozen so no one could touch it, so _I_ couldn't touch it. That's why I had to wait until you were ready. You see, there is only one way for you to know your name—you have to fall in love with a faery."

I stared at him. Did he know how I felt about him? I liked him. A lot. But, he could hurt me so easily. I was so inexperienced—I couldn't control my feelings. The fact that my heart could've easily shattered days ago meant none of this was very safe.

Hobs touched my hand. "We have too many memories to give up on each other."

"Memories?"

A single eyebrow went up and I saw a hint of his familiar smile. "I suppose they haven't happened yet, but don't worry, _Leannan Sith_. I remember them. I see things."

_Leannan Sith?_ It meant "faery sweetheart." My lips lifted . . . even as the tiara reminded me. _Don't fall in love with a faery_ . . . but if you are one? If he was my Prince Charming, then everything could be fixed with a kiss. Already he knelt before me. Sure, I was doubled over with a raging headache. His forehead furrowed in concern. His was a face I had learned to care for. Now, he implored me with his eyes. Couldn't I just let go for once? Trust him? It was only one kiss, after all. I leaned forward and gave him a light peck on the lips.

He grinned. "Why did you do that?"

I felt my face go red. "I thought," I stuttered. "You're not my Prince Charming?"

"Just your consort."

"What's that?"

"Your Prince Charming, but _I_ have to kiss _you_ for this to work."

My breath caught in my throat. That meant I really had to trust him. Give him the power. If the shard in my heart wasn't melted properly, if his intentions weren't good, if my curse wasn't even close to being broken, Hobs could shatter my heart in an instant. Kisses were deadly here. It thumped loudly as I stared into his dark eyes and I took a chance. I closed my eyes and waited.

His hand slid over my chin and he leaned over to kiss me, just a brush of the lips really; and yet with that light touch, a spurt of awakening thoughts and emotions surged through me and I felt a burst of memory—well, a backwards memory, since according to him, it hadn't really happened yet.

We were no longer freezing in a solitary tower, but sitting near a gurgling fountain. A blue scarf fluttered over my shoulder. Hobs played with it. I smiled at him, taking in his tunic and faded jeans. As always he took a modern twist to the faerytales. The fountain sparkled in the moonlight and I turned to stare at my reflection in the pool of water. Just like a dream, I could see the tiara on my head. The star on it twinkled over us.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

My mother was singing my song. I could see her in the distance. Beautiful blonde hair flowing. The sky was dark with tiny lights from the stars shining above. The foliage around the courtyard swayed, lush, green, and high, a maze of color behind us. I belonged here.

"Prosperity," Hobs whispered. There was concern in his eyes. His fingers brushed my cheek. "You're guardian of the Harvest, Lady Luck, Abundance. You are the life of the Sidhe. Without you, we are lost. I need you most of all." He rested his forehead against mine. " _Habonde Dáma a wanders._ I've called you Habonde always."

"Habonde?" I closed my eyes briefly. It was a strange name, vaguely familiar. "It goes well with Hobany." I smiled. All my dreams—he was in them. He was my best friend, even though I didn't know him like that yet. This vision held the promise of what was to come. And now that I knew him, I knew myself—just a faint memory, but it was enough to realize what I was capable of doing. I wasn't some heartless villain or even a sweet princess. I was just . . . well, me. Same likes, same weaknesses, same hopes. Now that I knew, I felt silly. How could I have forgotten who I was? _Princess and the Pea, Goose Girl, Thumbelina._ They were all just Otherworldly euphemisms for living, breathing people in this world. People who weren't me. He kissed me again.

I opened my eyes to see that the cold stones still held us captive in the tower, but I could only see Hobs. He watched me like he knew me, and now I understood why. We meant something to each other, the promise of what was to be. The pain in my head had subsided somewhat; it had become bearable. "Habonde?" I tested the name on my lips. "Yes, it's so . . . me, isn't it?"

He smiled. "You and I are the only ones who know it."

"Besides my parents . . ."

"No." He shook his head. "Faeries don't name their babies. We're born with them. Keep your name to yourself, Habonde, for now." At my quizzical look, he explained, "It will keep you safe." I was startled and he smiled at me and laughed, and completely surprised me by picking me up and swinging me around. "Habonde! That sounds so good. I'll call you Halley to keep you safe, but when we're alone together . . ." He kissed me again. With the help of his visionary touch, it transferred us to another prospective memory in the near or distant future—I couldn't tell which.

This time we stood in the courtyard of a vast marble castle. Dancing couples swirled around us. Gardens surrounded us with glittering lights hanging over the trees like icicles. I wore a sleek, white evening dress, my hair gathered high on my head, and two braids plaited past my shoulders. My hair was so long and heavy. Was it even real? Hobs tucked his arm around my waist. We were in the middle of a formal occasion, but he wasn't dressed for it, as usual. He was in black and white and looked like a court jester—a super hot one. He wore a mask. With a wicked look, he danced something above my head, trying to keep it from me. I could only guess that he had been teasing me—it was definitely in character. I tore away from him and we were back in the tower.

"You jerk!" I shouted.

"Don't get mad." He held his hands up to defend himself. "It hasn't happened yet . . . it might never happen."

"But it did!"

"Yeah, but for now it's just a faerytale prophecy, and not a very helpful one at that. At least now you got to see what I saw the first time I touched you." True to form, he hugged me to force out some of my temper, completely aware of the sparks flying out of me, and yet I knew that he loved every bit of me. "C'mon, we'll find a better memory."

Before I could shove him away, we were interrupted by a scream from below. The ogre standing watch sounded absolutely terrified. Hobs rushed to the window. "I think we've been discovered. We don't have much time—only till the stroke of midnight actually." Now my mother's words made sense. She had given me a time limit. Midnight. It was always midnight. "They're still having the Midsummer Night celebrations here," he informed me, "when the moon is aligned with the heavens. That's how we tell time in the Sidhe. It's been a summer since my mother took you to the Otherworld to live with the Starrs."

"A summer? I'm seventeen. I don't think so."

"We're going by faery time here, you oaf." At my angry look, he hurriedly explained. "Sorry. Oaf just means you've been switched at birth with a human."

_Oh._ I felt myself relax. "I see. So just enough time passed for _some_ of us to meet the required maturity levels."

"It's been 13,896 cloud drifts, 3,956 moon shifts, and almost seventeen Midsummer nights since we've been apart. Believe me, I felt every moment. The world came to a stop when you left, Habonde. I didn't know why until I touched you, but I searched the Otherworld endlessly for you, not even finding a shadow of you. I've spent years in the Otherworld numb with worry for you until it hurt to feel."

I wanted to kiss him for that, but it really was important to stay in the present and figure this out, so I hugged him instead. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me in tightly. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart before we pulled apart.

Another scream alerted us to the action below.

I leaned over the window, not seeing a thing in the shadows. On one side, the tower was tall like a skyscraper, the Sidhe a constellation of glistening lights below. The other side? I couldn't see the ground there—it was so dark. I took a deep breath, getting vertigo when I tried to think of a way to scale down. A cluster of snowflakes melted against my face, though it gave my aching head no relief. "Shouldn't winter stop?" I asked. "I know who I am now."

We listened to another thud in the darkness.

Hobs pulled me back by my elbow and took my place at the window. He tried to spy it out for himself, all the while acting nonchalant as if he didn't care what was going on down there. If it was for the benefit of the vigilant guards, he shouldn't have bothered. All they would see was the leanness of his silhouette. After a moment of nothing, he turned to me. "You've got to be crowned before winter can end," he said as if working it out. "It's the only way to find your destiny."

And then what? I had a life in the Otherworld. I didn't want to get stuck here. I had no problem with going back to help raise Babs. Maybe Hobs could go with me, but there was no way I was staying in the Sidhe permanently. I couldn't tell him that though. I could only handle one crisis at a time.

"If my mother still rules by midnight, none of us stand a chance. You lose your powers to her as soon as she opens the portals to the Otherworld. We've got to stop that from happening or he will kill us all."

"Wait a second. He?"

"The Otherworldly," he confided. Ah, yes. _Rumpelstiltskin._ The human. "I know who betrayed us to him."

"Your mother."

He gave a single nod. "It all makes sense now. It's part of some great prophecy. A mortal will come for the four treasures, and my mother must have been the one to find him, the boy who rolled up the world."

"Rolled up the world? How do you do that?"

"No one knows that yet." His eyes turned sober. "He'll control all of our powers, even hers. She thinks she can stop him by making a deal with him, but he'll turn on her too. If my mother would only listen . . . but she can't feel. She doesn't care."

Not even for her own son. I didn't like that look of hopelessness on his face—except . . . wait! The hag did care about some things. Wasn't she trying to exchange _me_ for the four treasures? Well, there was no way I was more important than the treasures, and the Otherworldly would know that. No! Neither of them planned on sticking to their deal. Everyone else would get caught in the middle of their fight.

My legs had grown weak, and I couldn't stop the shaking that spread from my aching head. I sat down on the hard bench that jutted out from the wall and took out the swirly toy. Babs, Halley—no, I'd just call her Babs for now—appeared on the face of it. She was a slave in the Snow Queen's quarters. They already had her polishing the ice on the castle steps to a brilliant hue. "She needs her faery godmother," I whispered.

Hobs sighed. "They're keeping her as bait. At any rate, she'll freeze at midnight with everyone else if we don't take care of this first. Let me see that." It was the only thing I had of Babs, but I surrendered it. His eyes filled with concern when he saw the little girl, but then he shook the toy and changed the picture on it. I peered over his shoulder. The image became a haze of his mother. She was younger. A woman stood before her, an older version of the hag, and I could only assume she was her long-dead mother from another season _._ The ice princess closed her eyes as the woman placed a garland of holly over her dusky curls.

I listened to the passage of time speak out to us as the woman warned her daughter of the only thing that could destroy her: _"Your weakness is but one; though temptation may call, stay out of the light of the sun."_

Hobs let out a long breath. "And there you have it, her weakness. _You_. That's why she's turned everything to winter. Ever since the attack against our family and her banishment from the Seelie court, she grew colder and colder until nothing could penetrate her. It hurt her to feel. The cold keeps her heart properly refrigerated. She sent the sun away and deadened your powers. Now the only thing we can trust is her merciless nature."

"Well, she did try to give me that apple."

His mouth twisted at the irony. "That was dumb. She knows she can't defeat you unless you leave here. If you ate it . . ."

"She wanted me to eat it on the other side, so I'd forget all about you. I know her plan. I read it in the book of faerytales. It's the Rumpelstiltskin story—that's who I am, the child he wants."

"Instead of finding his name, we had to find yours," he said.

"And, your mother thinks she can trade me for the four treasures. I think the Otherworldly was waiting for me on the other side to take me." He grew quiet and picked the fruit off the floor to study it.

I leaned against the brick wall. "If I can just stay here until after midnight, I think that might do the trick."

He shook his head, still staring at the apple. "If you stay here, you fight her . . . and if you fight her, you win. It's the cycle of the seasons. Summer always defeats winter, and you're the summer, my beautiful Habonde. The only problem is that she'd never be crazy enough to take you on."

The tiara repeated the warning in my head, even as I blurted it out, "I can't break a promise to a faery! I can't fight her. She'll hurt Babs if I do!"

He watched me thoughtfully, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "You've always been a rule breaker."

"But you told me not to . . ."

"If you break the rules, you become one of us. Join in our revelries, go to our balls . . . eat our food."

That didn't sound like a good plan to me. I didn't want to be one of them. I wanted to go home. Be with my family. Now that I had a heart, we could be a real one. I listened to the tolling of the bells outside. Eleven o'clock. Only one hour until the stroke of midnight. My eyes went to the apple. "Anyway, it's poisoned."

"Perfect. The only way they'll let you through those snowcapped doors of the palace is if you're dead."

I gasped.

A pinecone sailed through the window and bounced off Hobs' head. I hoped it would leave a welt after what he'd just said. He rushed to the window. Another pinecone hit him straight in the face, and he hissed in pain. "Hey!" he shouted below. "C'mon! You're _not_ still mad, are you?"

"Who?" I pushed Hobs aside, trying to see through the night air. Bugul. I recognized that massive bulk anywhere. Only he could've taken out our guards. He was just a shadow below us, which was a little easier on the eyes. He pumped his fist. "What's he trying to say?" I asked.

Hobs squinted into the darkness. "He wants to tell us something." Bugul acted it out. "Nymphs took you prisoner?" Hobs called out. Bugul waves his arms more frantically. "There's a dance?"

I elbowed Hobs hard in the ribs. "Hasn't that muting spell worn off yet?"

"I suppose so."

At his words, Bugul's grunt turned into a roar with the return of his voice. "Are you brain damaged, Hobany? The king has never looked kindly on your shenanigans. I'll tell you that." His voice sounded strangely cultured for a Leprechaun wearing leather and rags. "It's about time you let me speak!"

"Time-dependent spell?" I asked. "According to who?"

Hobs smiled distractedly.

"I've half a mind to turn you over my knee!" Bugul shouted. "Spoiled, thoughtless, selfish . . ."

Hobs gave me a pleading look, but no way would I allow him to put the mute back on Bugul. "What?" I asked him. "I'd say he's got it right, don't you, after what you did to him?"

Hobs was far from chastened; looking far too pleased, he shouted down the tower. "Sorry." Strangely, I didn't detect the sarcasm this time.

"That's all you have to say? After ditching me I don't know how many times . . . and leaving me to face that lovesick . . . thing? I'd rather you turned me into a frog!"

"Don't even think about it," I warned Hobs in an undertone.

"I would never!" Hobs sputtered, clearly for Bugul's ears since he had ulterior motives to get us out of here.

Bugul wasn't finished with him. "Carrying around forbidden faerytales!"

My eyes shot to Hobs. "Forbidden what?"

He shook his head. "Another silly rule no one follows—one designed specifically for faeries actually, not for mortals. The Twelve in the high courts wouldn't like that we have a copy, but what they don't know . . ."

"They're higher than your mother?" I asked. "The Twelve?"

"Well, yeah. They're different, like judges."

"Why haven't they stopped her?"

"How can they?" Hobs looked genuinely confused. "She hasn't broken any laws."

"You have stupid laws. You know that?"

True to form, he was delighted at the insult. "That's what I was trying to say. So you shouldn't care when we break them." He turned back to Bugul, dipping his head out into the darkness. "Now if you could get us down from here."

"After what you've done? I've half a mind to let you rot." But Bugul was already dragging supplies out of an oversized bag for our great escape. "I have my orders, ones I plan to keep this time. Your mother's gone too far. Besides, I've a soft spot for the little princess. She's not half as obnoxious as you . . ." The rest of his words were lost in grumbles.

Hobs pulled away from the window. "Now you see why I put the spell on him? He won't shut up."

"Ratis!" Bugul shouted up at us.

Hobs pushed his head back out. "Nope, we're the only ones up here, Bugul. Have you gone crazy?"

"No, you fool! Her hair!"

The crinkles around Hobs' eyes grew more pronounced. "What are you talking about?"

"It's up there, in the walls. Oh, I don't have time for this, you blackguard! Just listen. The woman gave me the code. Tap the wall three times next to the mirror; it'll open up after you say her name. If I remember correctly, the code will be . . ."

"I know it," Hobs interrupted. He strolled to the wall next to the spiraled staircase leading to an attic. "Of course the little minx would leave an escape hatch for us."

I followed him. "She didn't use it for herself?"

"Besides keeping her in, the tower kept things out . . ."

"The Otherworldly?"

He nodded and felt around the wall, his fingers sliding over the rough stone. As soon as he found the catch, he knocked once. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he chanted the spell. He knocked again. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." After a moment, he knocked a third time. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair." A stone in the wall dropped, and I peered into the gaping hole it left behind. A thin strand of golden hair dripped over the opening's makeshift tongue. Words were etched into the cavernous hollow behind it:

"Three days. Leannan Sith. Your fates are sewn; by hour of sunset you shall be known.

Fae, protector and protected of earth, your rule shall die in glorious birth.

Blood of Fomorian, mortal, and Fae; fulfills, breaks curses, the prophecies sway."

I turned to Hobs after reading it. "What does that mean?"

His fingers slid gently down the hair as he considered the words. "A spell of sorts? It sounds like something from the Norn."

The Norn? They were the three crones who changed to three gorgeous cover girls in front of my eyes. They had blessed Babs in my home with a similar-sounding spell. Why had their words followed Ratis here?

Hobs reached up to touch the engraving. "This was meant for us."

Before I could ask what he meant, Bugul shouted for us to hurry. Hobs sighed, grabbing for the hair this time. It didn't look strong enough or long enough to do much of anything. I studied it nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

"Some Fae keep their power in their hair. That's what Ratis did. She had the most beautiful golden hair—her power radiated inside each strand. It was as strong as she was honorable." He tugged on it and it met little resistance. "See?" he said. "She was innocent of her crimes." The hair grew longer and stronger as he pulled more of it from the hole in the wall. It twisted over itself, coiling against the hard floor like a golden snake. "Her hair mirrors the strength of her word, the power of her truth."

My eyes slanted. That was quite the praise. Hobs liked Ratis. A lot. What had been going on between them anyway? "She never lied?" I asked doubtfully. We'd be putting our lives in Ratis' hands—staking everything on her innocence, and Hobs seemed too blinded by her virtues to see that Ratis might not be everything he thought. "Are you sure she was framed?"

Hobs tilted his chin stubbornly. "We know who took the treasures from us, and it wasn't Ratis." He wrapped the golden hair around his arm, judging the distance from us to the ground with a quick glance. "You ready to do some rappelling?"

"Uh. You're not really going to climb down on that stuff?"

"With you on my back. Just hold tightly to me."

I nearly fell over at the idea. Hobs gave me a reassuring look. "You trust me, right? Ratis' word is gold. She's the most upstanding faery princess I know."

Ouch. I was upstanding. I sighed. Okay, I trusted Hobs, but I didn't know Ratis. She seemed way too good to be true, and he seemed way too blind.

"Hurry up, or I'll take a torch to the tower and smoke you out of there!"

Bugul. I took a deep breath and watched Hobs fashion a harness for us out of the hair. He was practiced in the art of escaping tall towers. I wondered how many times he had to scale a sheer wall to avoid the trouble he had made . . . or how many times he had come to visit Ratis. His quick fingers on her hair told me there had been plenty of times. He looped the hair to the leg of the bed. A fierce tug reassured me it wasn't going anywhere.

"Hobs?"

He gave me one of his firm smiles and I knew there would be no talking sense into him. He stuffed the swirly toy into the waist of his jeans. "C'mon." He caught my hand and pulled me to the ledge.

"Hey Hobs, you're not scared are you?" Bugul called up encouragingly.

Hobs scooped up the apple from the bench and chucked it down at him. Bugul's silhouette moved deftly out of the way. "Give us a second!" Hobs shouted into the darkness. He turned to me. "Okay, this is way easier than it looks. If an old witch can do it, you can."

"And who was that? There weren't any old witches! Just a framed girl who died stuck in a tower. No stolen vegetable to keep her pregnant mother alive, nothing."

"You're right, no rapunzel—not when she needed it. There was only one way to keep her mother alive, and it wasn't a vegetable—and still, Ratis wouldn't make a deal with the Otherworldly to get it. She was too honorable. You can trust the hair." I listened to his voice; it was better than concentrating on the drop below us. "Put your heel into this knot," he told me. "And put your arms around my neck." My legs couldn't hold still and I held onto him tightly. He grinned and I tried to ignore that he was enjoying himself. He jerked on the golden hair, keeping one side taut. The other he would use to lower us down. I closed my eyes, feeling him ease us from the ledge. I squeezed him tighter.

"Hey, gotta breathe here."

I tried to loosen my grip on him, but couldn't. My hands felt sweaty and I wiped one off the back of his shirt as my revenge. "Hobs? Can her hair really hold more than one person?"

"It's really strong."

"If we die . . ."

I felt him brace himself before pushing us off the ledge. A moan tore from my lips. Hobs tried to calm me down with a stern look. "Ratis could've had everything if she worked with the Otherworldly." So, he was opting for a distraction? I'd take it and pretend we weren't hanging so far off the ground. "Well, she wouldn't have had _everything_ ," he said, "—not the treasures—but close enough. She denied the Otherworldly and tried to save us all, and this was how we repaid her. She stood before the Twelve in the court and pleaded innocent. They refused to believe her."

I felt the ripping before I heard it. Ratis' hair was ripping! I gasped. Her hair was splitting at the ledge, shredding like dry spaghetti noodles.

I screamed. "Oh, no! I was right!"

Hobs' arms tightened convulsively around me. I only had a moment to look down at the ground before we fell. There were bushes spread out beneath us. They'd be full of thorns and would scratch our eyes out if I could believe the rumors. And since it was the worst case scenario, I believed them. Ratis' hair fell over us, silky and smooth. It was nothing like mine. It was suffocating as we plummeted at least a story down. We landed into the soft stuff. I let out a smothered ooph. Hobs collided into me, his arms still around me.

"Can't you do anything quietly?" Bugul was on us in an instant, shaking the apple in our faces. "I'm trying to make a clean escape here and you bungle the whole thing!"

It was a good sign that I could still hear him. I could feel my arms and next my legs, and they didn't hurt—that meant we were alive. I fought through the hair, feeling Hobs' hand on my back. He pushed me through the golden cascade, and it parted like a waterfall to let me out. It had broken our fall. As soon as I was free of the nasty stuff, I turned on him, my breath coming out in gasps. My body wouldn't stop shaking. "Innocent?" I asked. "You still think she's innocent?"

He looked confused; so was I. We didn't die.

Bugul pulled golden hair out of my dark hair, all the while lecturing Hobs. "I should've come for you myself."

"Oh, c'mon," Hobs said, "you weigh at least five stone more than me."

I rubbed my head and retrieved Babs' toy from the hair where Hobs had dropped it. Of course my thoughts were on her, and she came up through the mirror. I stared at my baby, and whimpered when I saw the tears on her cheeks. After everything that had happened, it made me cry too. I couldn't control myself. I choked back my sobs and turned to stare at the apple in Bugul's waving fist. If I ate it, I'd become one of them. Maybe even worse, I could die. And if I survived, I would never be able to leave this place.

"Oh, _Leannan Sith_." Hobs looked worried when he saw me. He dropped his argument with Bugul and caught me to him, instead. "You're crying? You can cry?"

"Okay, I'll do it!" It came out muffled against his shoulder. "Just one bite won't hurt."

Hobs' eyes followed mine to the apple. He ran his hand through my hair, but his words were less than reassuring. "I'm afraid it's going to take a little more than that. You're going to have to die."

# Chapter Twenty-One

And there erect and tall, Abonde the Queen,

Brow-girt with golden circlet, that doth bear

A small bright scintillating star between

Her braids of dusky hair.

—Archibald Maclaren, _The Fairy Family_

"She's dead!"

I listened to the muffled voices of surprise as the guards let us into Snow White's castle. Well, that's what I called the hag anyway, even though that particular black haired girl was only rumored to be the queen—I thought it made sense.

Bugul carried my glass casket on his back. I guessed that meant Leprechauns were strong. I felt his labored steps beneath me, and concentrated on my role. All I had to do was open my eyes or breathe too heavily and the jig was up. Luckily, the ogres weren't that smart. Bugul slipped on the ice-polished floor, and my fingers tightened over the rose laid delicately on my chest. Apparently all dead people have roses over their chests—Hobs' idea, not mine.

"What's this?" I recognized the Cyclops's rough voice and tried to keep as still as I could. "What's Hobs doing here?"

Bugul snorted. "Did you expect the prince _not_ to attend his mother's inauguration, Balor?" he replied haughtily. "Under my vigilant supervision, of course. Don't fret, General. I'm a much better bodyguard than others I might mention."

"And what makes you think the hag wants the lifeless body of the princess?"

"It's just orders, General."

I could imagine Balor's one eye zoning in on me and I tried not to breath. It didn't work too well. "Wait a second. She ain't dead!"

"Of course not," Hobs' voice licked scathingly over us all. "She's eaten the apple."

"Oh . . ."

Apparently it was a common occurrence, because he didn't argue. Apples were bad business here. Still, death or a coma, I was having a hard time getting into it. Besides my roaring headache, everything itched: my nose, my ears, my neck. I forced myself to keep my breathing shallow, and listened to the faery music echoing in the chamber. Though it wasn't exactly healthy, it calmed me down. The only problem was that once the music was in my head, it was in. I tried not to think about it, except my tiara wouldn't let me forget. _If you hear the music of the faeries, run._ It was worse than a broken record. I kept myself from swatting at it.

Bugul lurched forward, but I could hear the Cyclops keeping an even stride with us. "I don't think the hag wants her too close."

"How else will the queen take her crown?" Bugul growled. "Magic, not brawn, will get this circlet off her head."

I could almost feel the Cyclops's considering stare and I tried not to let my nose wriggle. "Ah yes, her crown," Balor said after a moment. "Didn't think of that. Very good. Continue."

After a moment, I heard Hobs' voice. He leaned in closer to us. "Is that true?"

"No, you idiot."

"No wonder I muted you. You've a way with words that's dangerous."

Bugul chuckled low in his throat. The casket thumped to the ground, and I knew that I was in the courtroom now. It was freezing in here. The music was deafening, and the sound of partying nymphs was enough to make me want to pick up my casket and run with it . . . or maybe boogie the night away. The good news was my head stopped pounding so hard. Babs was close by. My fingers tensed. I had to get to her.

I listened to the girls swarm around Hobs; it was hard to ignore. "Hobs, what have you brought?" a smooth female voice asked. It was one of the lovesick nymphs. "Is it a present?"

"You could say that." He made up colorful excuses as he deftly maneuvered around the besotted girls. Hobs might not be as powerful as his mother, but he was tricky enough to make up for it. The nymphs chattered desperately to get his attention until the noise abruptly stopped. It didn't take me long to figure out why. "Mother." His voice sounded altered, angry. My body stiffened in response.

"Son." The high notes of her alarm echoed through my ears. "What are you doing here? Who let him in?" She gasped at what I could only guess was my coffin. "What did you drag into my courtroom, you wicked scamp?"

"What?" Hobs sounded amused. "I've just brought you your handiwork, My Queen. How could you be upset with that?" He sat on the end of my casket, and it creaked under his weight. He attempted a mournful tone. "So, why did you do it, Mom?"

I knew the moment the Snow Queen saw me in my coffin, because she shrieked. "Get away from her. Hobany! Now."

"What's the matter, Mother? Are you afraid I'll wake her up?"

"You idiots!" she cried to the room in perfect villainous fashion. "Why did you let him drag her sorry carcass in here?"

"Oh c'mon, Mom. She's practically dead—what's she going to do? Crash the party?" Hobs clicked open the sides of the casket. "I think she was hungry. What I don't understand is why you fed her."

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. His mother's screams escalated as I accepted her son's hand. Hobs lifted me out of the casket, and my royal-blue skirts dragged behind me. The extra pomp and ceremony was Hobs' idea—I was only grateful he left out the puffy princess sleeves. Red netting molded to the shape of my arms, and tufts of fur decorated my collar. I looked like Snow White with a gothic twist. I'd get him back for that later, since in no way did he bother to dress up for his mother's coronation. Now that I was able to get a good look at him, I saw he sported the same worn-out jeans and black punk shirt he had been tromping around in all day. He matched his mother's glare with defiance.

The hag stepped back in all her ice-caked ceremonial finery. "What have you done, Hobs?" There was no way she would fight me, but if she didn't—all of this would be in vain. It meant I had to force her hand somehow, had to make her crazy enough to take me on. I looked around, wracking my brain for ideas.

The castle was like being inside an elaborate igloo. Ice sculptures stood silently in the hall of mirrors, mirrors that a certain little girl wouldn't be able to see herself in. The stairs were made of packed snow. The floors shone like glass. They'd need a Zamboni to polish them, not some poor little kid with numb fingers. Now where was she?

Hobs passed the apple to me and I tossed it in my hand. "Did you think you could get rid of me with this?" I asked the Snow Queen. Before she could say anything, I took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly. It tasted just like any other apple. She waited expectantly, but nothing happened . . . well, nothing she could see. I, on the other hand, felt very strange. It gave me both a light and heavy sensation, which flowed through me. It made my heart beat unevenly. With each bite, I became one of them. I turned to the Snow Queen, trying to ignore that. I didn't _want_ to be one of them. It still wasn't too late.

Where was Babs? Seeing the hag's smug look, I took another bite—she didn't suspect a thing. "You know I wasn't really going to eat a poisoned apple, right?" I choked, ruining the effect. Once I caught my breath, I managed to say, "Looks like you fell for the oldest trick in the faerytales—playing dead. Hobs swiped this apple off your banquet table."

That wiped the hag's confidence right off her perfect face. "My dear girl, you promised you wouldn't fight me." She snapped to some waiting guards. "Quickly! Fetch me the child!"

One of the sweeter-looking waifs dragged my baby out from behind a banquet table. How Babs had gotten so dirty in such a short amount of time was beyond me. The Snow Queen dug her long nails into Babs' plump arms, yanking her to her side. "You know what will happen if you break your promise to a faery, my girl? I break my promise! And you all die."

I took another bite of the apple, not realizing how hungry I was. With every bite, I felt my power growing, especially since I was cursed to protect this child. "Of course I'll never break my promise," I said between bites. "But I also promise I will defeat you and save this little changeling." The hag's eyes widened. "Now, which promise should I keep?" I asked.

"You didn't promise you'd fight me _exactly_ ," she tried to reason. "Just that you'd save the changeling . . ."

"Then let me correct that. I promise to fight you _and_ I promise to win."

The hag hissed low and catlike. For a lady who never had to keep a rein on that temper, she wasn't about to start now. "Balor," she shouted. "Get her!"

The Cyclops loped for us. I jerked back, surprised out of my mind. This plan would only work if I fought the hag, _not_ her minions. Bugul stepped in front of me. I noticed he was wearing a fat red-and-white striped tie for the occasion. It looked strange on his usual get-up. "How about I take out that other eye, Balor!" he shouted at his nemesis. "It was pretty easy last time, as I recall." Bugul thumped his club into his palm with a menacing look. A few ogres scurried for cover.

Cyclops scowled, his eye bulging. He turned from me and aimed the bulk of fire from that eye straight for Bugul instead. "I'll burn you!"

"Bugul!" I shouted. "Move!" Shots of painfully bright light shot past our scurrying feet, spraying chunks of ice against the pillars of the castle. The vaulted ceiling shook above us. Bugul dodged out of the way. I sucked in my breath. He wasn't hurt.

"Usurpers to the throne!" The Snow Queen waved the ogres forward, bringing the battle into full swing. "Take them out!"

This wasn't exactly going as we planned. Balor's eye rotated crazily and he aimed it on me this time. I twisted away, pushing far from Bugul. The last half of my apple got knocked out of my grip and rolled under the table, where it became covered in dust. I gagged when I saw it. I wasn't supposed to eat the whole apple, was I? Didn't one bite count as breaking the rules?

One of the witch's monsters shrieked behind me when a beam of light missed me and hit him square in the neck. As soon as the ogres figured out that standing next to me was getting them all killed (which took a little longer than it should), they edged away in a panic. And just like the school play, I found myself doing flips in the air to avoid getting hit, faster than anything they threw at me. _Look, Mom, no wings!_ Who needed those to fly? My faery mother had put a strange curse on me. I could do practically anything if it was connected to protecting this child.

"I taught her that," Hobs said with a laugh. He pulled out his weapons from the coffin. I ducked behind it, listening to the shouts of pain coming from the ogres behind me. The ice grew thicker around the table. It wasn't my imagination; this room was getting colder. Innately, I felt it was because the Otherworldly was sneaking his way in, but how was he doing it? Where was he coming from?

Balor shot madly for me, and I dove away. The coffin splintered into a thousand pieces. He was taking forever to run out of all that ammunition he packed away in that eye of his. There was no way I could search out that Otherworldly with him on my back.

"Princess!" Hobs shouted. I still wasn't used to my new title. He tried again. "Ha . . . Halley!" I looked up at his warning just as an ogre toppled over me, about five arrows in its back. I rolled out of the way, and the ogre crashed into the floor. Hobs had taken care of him. Bugul fought off a whole army, but the Snow Queen's minions were gaining ground, despite the skill of my protectors.

The wolves targeted in on Hobs. "What do you, the changeling, and the princess have in common?" Gray growled. _All of our names start with an H?_ None of the wolves looked like they were playing anymore. Octavius stalked out his prey. Gray and Glasses took up the rear.

"We're all strangely attractive?" Hobs guessed. "No, we smell great." Octavius chuckled appreciatively—until he saw Hobs draw another arrow. "Wait, I've got it," Hobs said. "We're taking down this madhouse?"

"No." Gray bared his teeth. "You're all going to die!"

Most of the nymphs had already peeled out of the room. A few of them, led by their glamorous leader Glistenda, glared at everyone in general, especially at me. Glistenda took out some faery dust, and I prepared myself for an onslaught of her magic.

Half of the hag's army had been taken out of commission with the Cyclops's less than detailed job, and the hag shrieked when I switched directions and headed straight for her. "Get away!" she cried. But I didn't stop—I knew what I was doing. Everyone close to me was falling in droves; she'd be next. Balor aimed straight for me and I slowed, seeing Babs in the hag's arms, but it was too late.

"No!" I shouted.

"No!" the hag echoed. The Snow Queen would get blown away, along with her precious cargo. She managed to free one arm from Babs and pointed it at Balor. The single motion threw the Cyclops through the air. He landed into a pillar, colliding with Glistenda. The nymph's faery dust exploded over them in a cloud. Balor sneezed before they both collapsed into an unconscious heap. "Idiot," the hag said.

"Here's a riddle. What happens when winter takes over the Sidhe?" I heard Hobs ask the wolves. They hesitated, lifting their furry ears. "We all die," Hobs briskly answered for them. "Okay, now let's see if you can get this one. Why would a prince fight his own mother? I mean, if she gets all the power, wouldn't he just inherit it?"

"Not if there's nothing left to inherit," Glasses surmised.

"Genius." Hobs nocked the arrow in his bow, but he didn't need to. The wolves had already turned from him, their considering eyes on their queen. The mirrors behind her were shaking.

"Rumpelstiltskin is coming through the mirror!" Hobs shouted out to me. It was our code name for the Otherworldly. There was more than one mirror, but one look and it was obvious which one would bring the Otherworldly through. It was larger than the others. It warped almost in half it was so hot. The glass melted and peeled down the sides, running down to the floor and pooling into a nasty black puddle. Despite the mini-volcano behind the witch, my body trembled with the cold. It meant I was losing this fight, and I didn't know why.

My fingers felt stiff, and I glanced down. They were turning blue. What had the queen done to me? She gave an unnatural giggle, her feet lifting off the ground. She carried Babs into the air with her. "You will die here, my girl. The curse is not yet broken. You still cannot make the ultimate sacrifice for love." She pointed at me, and I felt the chill of it seep through my chest.

The hag was turning me into an icicle. This was what we wanted, for her to fight me, but I was still losing! Just like the Snow Queen said, my power wasn't complete. I still didn't belong here. I spied the last half of the apple under the refreshment table. It was on the other side of the room and I sprinted for it. My joints ached with the cold. Hobs circled and rushed to the mirror to stop the upcoming disaster. The Otherworldly was on his way, but there wasn't much Hobs could do about it.

Bugul was in the thick of the battle. Gan, our infamous love-talking fiend, emerged from somewhere in the back clad in cravat and knickers. He cringed when he saw Bugul, and took his beautiful self off the other direction. He raced past me just as I dropped to my hands and knees to get to the dust-covered apple. I heard a loud crash and caught sight of some huge, hulking black thing materialize from the ceiling. Gan's missing shadow had finally come for us.

The wolves prowled around the mirrors, sniffing and whimpering. The mirror spat its heat at them, and they jumped back with a howl of pain. The colder the room, the hotter the mirror got. It boiled over like water. The icy air around it crackled and sizzled with the heat. I wasn't sure which one would win, but as soon as I took a bite of the dusty apple, the room warmed. I sucked in some air, feeling it heat up my insides like hot cider. I took another bite and felt better than ever. I moved my thawing fingers. They tingled.

The hag swiveled on me, snarling like a cat, her black hair a shadow behind her. "A changeling like you will experience the same transition a mortal does when eating our food—you will feel it dearly. As a faery, our rules will bind you. Now, drop that fruit! It is forbidden."

If anything, I chewed faster. Once I was through with this apple, I'd be one of them. I hesitated. Did I want that? If I broke this rule—if I could love this mortal, I would lose all who loved me. I would have to leave my life in the Otherworld. My family would forget everything about me. My shadow would steal the love that rightfully belonged to me. But it didn't have to be this way. Why did I have to lose everything? I could love my family now. No matter what anyone said, the Starr family was mine.

I didn't have to eat the rest of this apple. I stared down at it.

"Halley!" Babs called me her own name. The hag held her tightly. "Halley!" she sobbed, reaching out to me. She didn't even know I could save her. She just wanted me with her. I looked from the fruit to her. I remembered Hobs molding her fuzz of hair into little devil pigtails. I saw her in my Midsummer Dream costume parroting everything I did. She was now a part of me. It was impossible to leave her here. I bit down on the juicy flesh of the core and the air glowed. One more bite and this apple was done for.

"You eat the rest of that and I curse this child," the hag cried out desperately.

It was no empty threat. She had done it to a kid before—namely me. I looked from her to Babs. "But if I don't eat it, you lose your kingdom to me."

She stilled. "What are you saying? How is that possible?"

"You should know. It's the curse you gave me. I cannot rule unless I love a mortal," I said, even as I realized it, "and if I don't take another bite, it means I love this child . . . and I do."

"Surely you know what that will do to you?" The Snow Queen asked. "She cannot love you back!"

The part of the apple I had already eaten felt stuck in my throat. I would lose Babs no matter what I did, but at least this way she'd be safe. I swallowed.

"Your love will kill her!" the hag said.

Is that what the curse meant? Those I loved would die? I didn't know what I was supposed to do. "Hobs!" My voice cracked over my shout. "Do something!"

The mirror had reached its boiling point and started to freeze over. My eyes stung when I watched its brittle surface crack. A green vine broke through, followed by another. They grew longer and more spindly, dancing through the glass, as wide as tree trunks twisting dangerously around us. The wolves passed out from the heat. At least I hoped they had passed out. I liked them too much for them to die on me. But what did it matter? Soon we would all be dead.

The largest of the vines settled firmly against the ice-covered floor. A black inky finger wriggled through after it, followed by another. What would the Otherworldly do when he saw me? Would he try to take me? If anything, it would be a convenient way for the Snow Queen to boot me out of here. And if he joined forces with the witch, we'd all be goners.

"Hobs!" I shouted.

Hobs was busy keeping the ogres back. Gan's black shadow lurked behind them. Hobs broke off a sharp icicle from an arched doorway and glanced over at me. There was only one way to stop the witch—and I was sure he was trying to figure out a way around that. He landed the sharp end of the icicle into an ogre and pulled away, shaking his hand to get some feeling back into it. "Mother!" He tried to distract her from tearing me apart. "You don't want to do this!"

Her eyes went hard, and she turned from him to Babs, screeching out her curse on our little girl. _"As long as summer rules, you cannot come. For deadly is the warmth of sun. Your prison is ice. Death only you'll part . . . for forbidden love will melt your heart._

"No!" I cried out. She had actually cursed Babs against me. I was summer. My touch would now be deadly to her. The second my rule began, Babs could never be with me. It was too cruel. How could she do it? "No," I whispered.

"Now," the Snow Queen said, "what will you do, princess? Will you rule this place and kill this child with your warmth?"

I clenched down my chattering teeth. There wasn't enough warmth in me to do anything yet. I could feel the chill overcome me. It was more than the air around me—it was in my heart. If I finished the apple, I'd save myself, save the Sidhe . . . and kill Babs.

Bugul was too far away to help. Hobs tried to get to my side, but he was outnumbered by the ogres. With any luck, the dumb creatures would tackle each other, instead of him, but even worse, Gan's shadow leaned against one side of the building. Parts of the terrace toppled down over the fighting mob.

Hobs dodged a wicked-looking sword and dropped down behind a broken pillar to avoid getting hit by the falling ceiling. "Don't listen to her!" he shouted. "There are holes all over that curse! It's always that way. Just eat the rest of the apple!"

I shook my head. "I don't see a hole in this one."

"The girl cannot abide the same sphere as you." The hag raised her hands in triumph, cackling giddily. "You must leave or kill her. Winter and summer cannot coexist."

"She can't abide with you, either." My breath came out in a fog as I felt her magic take the life out of me. "She _is_ you now. Don't you see? You made her the successor to your throne. You made her winter. It is you who must leave, you _hag_! You're no longer needed here."

The hag's hand dropped. "I will not leave," she whispered. Her bony fingers tangled through Babs' hair, but she was getting weaker, and we both knew I was right. She gasped out and began another spell against Babs, " _Forget the Sidhe, its warmth and spring. You're banished. To the earth take wing."_

"No!" I ran forward. Babs was fading fast and I struggled to get to her side, unable to stop it. The mirrors towered around her and I couldn't see her—not just her image, but her. "Babs, eat the rest of this apple!" As soon as I reached her, I folded her hands over the wedge. I'd let her rule and then she could stay here with Hobs. She wouldn't have to be alone in the Otherworld.

"Stop." Hobs tugged the fruit from her poor little hand. His breathing was ragged from fighting the ogres. Gan's shadow made a mess of the castle behind us. It tore down pillars and knocked down balconies. Hobs threw his arms around us, blocking us from it. "She'll be stuck here!"

"There's no other way!" Babs' hand was disappearing from mine. "Don't go!" I said. "Fight it! Where is she going?" The hag wouldn't have banished her anywhere nice.

"Halley!" Tears glistened on Babs' pale cheeks. She had no idea what was happening. _Halley?_ I choked. No, that wasn't me. That was her. My little girl didn't even know who she was. I couldn't let her go to the Otherworld without knowing. How would she get back to me? "I can't see you," she said in a small voice. "Where are you going?"

"You can see me." My hands hovered over Babs, but I couldn't touch her. She was almost gone. "Look to the first star that appears at night, Babs. Just wish on that star and the moon will smile down on you. That will be me. I won't leave you alone!" Her blonde hair grew lighter and lighter. She looked exactly like my little sisters. She belonged with them, but they would never know her. The witch wouldn't be merciful enough to send her to them. "That's how you'll find me," I promised. "Watch for that star!"

"She'll never remember you!" the hag promised. She made circular motions with her hands. "And you! You will forget she ever existed."

"No! I'll be with you!" I called to Babs. "I'll remember you always—just wish on me!" The smoke of Babs lingered in the air. Her hand was fading from Hobs' and I saw his worried expression. It gave me an idea. "Your Prince Charming!" I said. It was the only thing I could think of. If the hag could curse her, I could give her my blessing. "Love's kiss will break the curse!"

"Make it rhyme," Hobs sounded frantic. "It's the only way to make a spell."

" _Love will break the curse,_ " I stuttered over my next words. A rhyme? I tried to think of something poetic. " _Though love is blind_ ," I hesitated at Hobs' disbelieving look. What rhymed with curse? " _You could do worse_." I shrugged at him. Sure, it was one of the stupider things I've said, but if it broke the hag's curse, I'd take it.

"Oh! Don't worry, Babs. We'll keep you safe. You'll never be alone." I tried to touch her arm, but she was gone. She had heard me though. I was sure of it. I no longer felt the pain at the separation. My curse was broken too, but I still felt it in my heart and it beat dully.

The hag looked furious. My words had sealed her doom. Babs was destined to take her place as Snow Queen. "I will stop your heart, Princess!" She twisted—faster than it seemed possible—and before Hobs could stop her, I felt her cold fingers trail down my back. I arched backwards as she flew from us, cackling evilly.

My lungs froze and I couldn't breathe. She had killed me. I could feel my life draining. I had tried . . . and lost everything because of it: Babs, and now my life, but not everything, not Hobs. _Hobs._ He could watch out for Babs if I couldn't.

"Hobs." My fingers were brittle from the cold. I found his rough hand. "Find Babs. You've got to find her." He acted like he couldn't hear me. His arms were around me, though his warmth couldn't touch me. His eyes were on his mother. I saw another inky hand rip from the vines through the mirror, followed by a twisting head. The eyes were dark and unfeeling and they darted around like snakes. The Otherworldly would kill us all.

"Hobs!" I cried. "You have to leave here. Get Babs."

The ogres surrounded us, armed with their clubs and daggers. Bugul was nowhere to be seen. Had they killed him too? Hobs' attention was riveted on the Otherworldly, and he squeezed my frozen shoulder before he stood up. He pulled out his arrow from a fallen ogre's gut. The arrow could pierce any hide, and it glistened in the cold winter air. His hand ran over it.

"What are you doing?" the hag ridiculed. "Is this for her? Or that kid? You weakling! The Otherworldly is my guest. Hospitality for hospitality. It is the mantra of the Twelve. You cannot shoot him!"

Hobs shook his head. "I'm not." His arrow scraped past the hag's delicate shoulder, leaving a dark and bloody scratch. She screamed out in pain, and then laughed bitterly. "You didn't kill me. How unfortunate for you." Her arms lifted and I knew she was about to finish him off. I cried out weakly and she jerked to a stop, lowering her hands to stare at her pointed nails. "What have you done to me, Hobs?"

"It's a gift from the nymphs. I laced the tip."

"My own son?" She tried to control the twitching in her body. "Poisoned?"

"With a love potion." He lowered his bow. I saw the anguish in his eyes. "I gave you a heart, Mother."

"Oh." The Snow Queen's voice sounded almost human, and she clasped her chest, stumbling across the room. "Worse than poison. It hurts to feel."

". . . especially when you can't feel that love returned."

The Snow Queen whimpered. The ice that covered her beautiful body was melting. She turned watering eyes to the mirror, and with those imperfect eyes she finally saw. The Otherworldly was almost through it. "He will kill you." Her voice broke.

Hobs watched her, grief written across his face, but still he didn't go to her. The Snow Queen staggered to him instead, dripping everywhere. She pulled the medallion from her neck with shaking hands and fell next to me. I choked on my breath; it hurt to breathe. My lungs iced over.

"Son!" She reached up and caught his fingers. He cried out in pain. "I'm sorry, Hobany. I don't want to hurt you. _I love you_."

Hobs responded with a nod. He looked numb. I doubted he had heard those words from his mother before, and even now they were bittersweet—brought only by a love potion. He knelt next to us, watching her wearily.

She set her medallion over my cold stomach and folded his trembling fingers over it. "You'll need this. The Otherworldly has the lost treasures . . . get them back . . . you'll regain your powers. I was going to get them back. I swear. I didn't . . . I didn't give him the treasures. It wasn't me. It was . . . _her._ "

He groaned, but I knew he believed her. Someone else was guilty. Had it been Ratis then? It made sense. "There is one treasure still," she said, ". . . safe. The Stone of Fal. The mirror . . . it is under the ice. The ice will melt. " She coughed, her eyes watering over in her agony. "Don't let that monster get it."

"How do I save my Leannan Sith, Mom?"

The room was hot. The ice queen couldn't survive in it for long, but somehow the heat couldn't touch me. I was turning into a block of ice. "I must die before she does . . ." she said softly. "It's the only way to break my spell over her. Make her cheeks bloom, Hobany."

The mirror melted just enough for the vines to push all the way into the room. The Otherworldly dragged himself up by his elbows, pushing free from the thick green stalks like a lizard cracking from its egg. Filthy black slime pooled down his body. He moved with the speed of a zombie in comparison to the grace of everything that lived in this world. The nymphs screamed out in panic, but the Otherworldly wasn't interested in terrorizing them. He had caught sight of me.

I watched him helplessly. He knew exactly who I was—I didn't know how. Hobs scrambled to stand between us. The arrow that had nicked his mother was at his feet, and he drew it from the ground. With one quick movement, he cleaned off the remnants of the love potion with his shirt. The Otherworldly grumbled out a laugh. There wasn't much of me left to save.

"Octavius." Hobs kicked the wolf hard in the side, trying to wake him up. "It's your lucky day, man. Fast food."

Octavius swayed on drowsy legs. Gray and Glasses pulled groggily to their paws. They snarled; I just wished with more conviction.

I felt an icy hand on mine. It was the hag's. It was colder than mine . . . then warmer. My skin glistened with frost. "Why must we suffer?" She looked older, her black hair whitened and melted, dripping down her neck. Somehow she was more beautiful than ever. I think it was her eyes. They felt warm. "The seasons change, the cycle of life continues. She will rule after me . . ."

It was the first stroke of midnight. I listened to the toll of the bell and then the crackle in my ears as the frost over my flesh sealed them shut from this world.

# Chapter Twenty-Two

They stole little Bridget

For seven years long;

When she came down again

Her friends were all gone.

They took her lightly back

Between the night and morrow;

They thought she was fast asleep,

But she was dead with sorrow.

—William Allingham _, The Fairies_

"I don't know what to do," Hobs said. "Can you hear me, Habonde?" He tried again. "Halley?" I felt his lips on mine, and my cheeks bloomed. It was the only way to describe it. "Let this crown you queen," he breathed.

My memories came rushing back to me. Were they memories, or glimpses of the future? I didn't know why I still had one. I sat in my faded jeans on a cold park bench and crossed one worn fur-lined boot across the other and leaned against . . . Hobs? With a start, I realized it was him as soon as he put his arm around me. His heat put a jolt through me—it was warm. I never thought I'd feel any warmth again, let alone his.

The snow floated down over us. Everything was white and beautiful . . . back home on Main Street. What were we doing in Omak? I didn't know Washington existed for me anymore. Piles of plowed snow took over the parking lot across the street from the cinema. I recognized the slush-covered roads, though I had never seen such a harsh winter in my hometown, not since my presence cursed it with too much sun. And now, it was a bleak wintery day, except none of this had happened yet. "Hobs?"

He smiled at me, doing his best to pass off as a human. He had the hot metro thing down with his tweed winter vest and argyle scarf. "Hey look," he said. "We're here."

_Here?_ FasFoo, the hottest teen hangout in Omak, was just across the street, and my shadow passed me, heading that direction. I stood up in shock, staring after her. We were still the same age. Well, maybe my shadow was a little older than me now—she was halfway into her senior year. She was bundled up in a sleek white coat, her long scarf wrapped several times around her neck. It looked like she shopped solely out of town. She acted like she couldn't see me.

Daphne talked a mile a minute next to her, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her puffy jacket, her dark stocking cap pulled low over her blonde hair. My shadow's eyes were on the restaurant. It had been our favorite place to get burgers.

"Kids grow up so fast." Hobs pulled me away from my spitting image and gestured to a blonde girl about my age walking out of FasFoo. Her hair was greasy and it escaped from a scraggly ponytail at the back of her head. She was in a filthy polyester number stained with mustard and ketchup over black leggings. The girl needed a shower. Maybe a brush?

With quick movements, she polished the windows with efficient squirts of her glass cleaner. Mist from the cold came out of her mouth as she worked. She didn't wear gloves.

I cocked my head to the side. "Wait a second, that's Babs! I mean, Halley, I guess." It felt a little surreal, since the last thing I had been doing was lying on the floor of a frozen ice castle, dying. My last thoughts had been of her. And here she was, alive in Omak!

Hobs smiled broadly. "No, let's call her Holly. She's the princess of winter. It fits her."

_Our little Halley . . . Holly . . . whatever._ I stared at her, barely believing she was so close that I could touch her. She didn't look like a princess. "I like the name Blest better," I muttered.

"Bridgette!" someone called from the inside.

"I'm coming!" She rubbed harder at the windows, her fingers red from the cold.

"Bridgette?" we mouthed to each other. It sounded nothing like Cinderella, either—if that's who she was supposed to be. Maybe she wasn't.

"I'm almost done." My heart dropped at the depressed note in her voice. Babs looked tired and drawn, as only a fast food job could do to a girl. Still, she was beautiful under all that filth. She'd fit in really well with my Otherworldly sisters.

My hand made a fist. What had these people done to her? I wasn't going to take it. "This is her prison, huh?"

Hobs shrugged. "Oh c'mon, it doesn't look _that_ bad."

"Bridgette!" This time the manager came out and shook an angry fist at her. "Why did I take a chance on you, huh? I'll send you back to the home if that's what you want! We have customers! I'm not warning you again."

I felt Hobs tense up next to me. "Okay, let's break her out. That guy's a freak."

"She's supposed to fall in love first," I said.

"Then we'll shoot a love potion into the first guy we see. Get it over with."

I gave him an annoyed look. Sometimes guys were so clueless about love. "We want someone _nice_ for her." I searched around for the perfect victim. Some guy walked out on the patio of FasFoo with a net on his head. It covered his ragged hair. He held a spatula in his hand, his other clutching the side of the door. He matched with Babs—their uniforms, anyway. It had to be one of her coworkers. He talked to her in an undertone. He was tall and mysterious. Well, in a slightly nerdy way, to be honest, but at least he seemed nice. "How about him?" I asked.

"Yeah, right. That one isn't even interested in girls. Let's not get desperate for her." The kid went back inside and Hobs proceeded to study every guy that passed. There was a hippy guy with really long hair, a beer-belly guy who walked into the local tavern, and some creepy guy who walked into a store with shaded windows. None of these people could remotely pass for a good boyfriend, let alone a soul mate for our little Babs . . . Bridgette.

Hobs sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Have you ever noticed that curses are usually good for kids anyway?"

"Oh, no you don't. We're breaking this curse!"

Hobs took my hand in his and laughed, trying to reassure me. "I was just messing with you." He rubbed my cold fingers, his dark eyes turning serious. "It's okay. We'll work it out."

"Oh no." My eyes were still on our little girl. "Things just got weird!"

Puck—I mean Ren—the guy from my play stepped out of an old red sedan in the parking lot of FasFoo. As soon as he saw my beautiful Babs, he froze like he had always done with me. If I didn't know better, it looked like he was getting up the nerve to talk to her, but before he could, I noticed my shadow skip across the street with Daphne. Babs saw my shadow the same time I did and ducked her head nervously.

In true Daphne fashion, my sister was oblivious to any unpleasantness. She brightened when she spotted Ren, who was the love of her life according to their girl talk. "Ren!" She smiled shyly. "Did you just get here?"

"Well, I . . ."

"Are you coming to our party Friday night?"

Ren stalled, glancing over at Babs. As soon as Daphne noticed her, she included her in her generous smile. "Oh, hi Bridgette!"

"Oh, gag! You're ruining my appetite. I'm hungry!" My shadow shoved Daphne into the restaurant. Daphne's lo-tops squeaked over the polished floor. My shadow glanced back at Ren, her dark hair flowing provocatively over her shoulder. "You coming?" He seemed reluctant, but after Babs refused to meet his eyes, he followed Daphne inside. As soon as they were both out of earshot, my shadow glared at Babs. "In case you get any stupid ideas, you're not invited, loser."

My mouth dropped. Did my shadow just call Babs a loser? I made a fist. It was meant strictly for Babs' ears, but my hearing was magnified where my little girl was concerned. I shot up from the bench. "That's it. My shadow has gone and done it. I'm taking her out!"

Hobs rolled his eyes and tugged me back next to him. "Later."

"Doesn't she know who Babs really is?"

He gritted his teeth before answering. "Yep. That's why our revenge is going to be so much fun."

I froze at the implications. Why would my shadow treat her that way? What did it mean? Tugging on Hobs' scarf, I turned his head with it so he would look into my eyes. "Please tell me we have some memories that are useful?"

He gave me a devilish smile. "Let's find out."

Before I could argue, his fingers traced my jaw. It was the tender touch of someone who leads you in a dance and just happens to be crazy about you. He was about to kiss me, and for a moment I couldn't wait. "Hobs," I said. "How is this supposed to save Babs?"

"I promise we'll clean up this town. Clean _her_ up. You can give her a make-over or wave some magic wand and give your shadow a black eye. Whatever. But first we have to get you back to where we're supposed to be." He tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear and leaned closer.

I glanced around at the milling people, recognizing a lot of faces. It was the curse of a small town, and potentially embarrassing. "Hobs, we're in public. You can't just kiss me here!"

"I can't?" He laughed, gazing so deeply into my eyes that I couldn't look away. "What did you expect from Cupid? That knavish lad."

Before I could stop myself, I smiled back at him, and he planted another kiss on me.

We were suddenly in a beautiful land, lush and green. This was how I imagined the Sidhe, except it wasn't real, was it? Nothing had been restored yet. I tried to get a better look at it, but Hobs was running too fast. He had me by the hand, and the Sidhe sped past us like a blur. There was an urgent look on his face. "You've got to get out of here!" _Why? What was happening?_

I looked down and saw that I was barefoot. Somehow I knew what had happened. "Babs has my slippers," I cried out.

Hobs didn't care. "But they're after _you_." He leaned over to kiss me farewell from this potential future, and it sent me on my way.

"Habonde, can you hear me?" His voice echoed in my ears, and I found myself back on the frozen floor of the Snow Queen's castle. Only moments had passed since Hobs had first crowned me a princess with his kiss. So much had happened in between. Then again, nothing. Not yet. I just had to make sure I survived so I could save Babs.

I blinked up at Hobs. His hands slid down the gauzy material of my red sleeves. "Habonde!" he whispered gruffly. He hugged me, and I felt the scruff of his cheek against mine. "I didn't think you would wake up."

I felt so safe in his arms, except . . . the bells were still tolling the midnight hour. The wolves were snarling, and the Otherworldly was coming for me with a horrible-looking sword. It had to be one of the lost treasures of the faery kingdom. I sat up hurriedly, seeing a puddle of the purest water on the floor. Hobs averted his eyes from it. I knew who it was—his mother had died so I could live. Cyclops whimpered inconsolably behind us. Still, I didn't feel much different.

"Why don't I have my full power?" I asked through groggy lips.

Hobs nodded at the Otherworldly, keeping his voice low. "He has it."

He may have the treasures, but he didn't have everything. The witch was dead, and he didn't have _her_ power. I wondered if Babs did. I leaned heavily on Hobs and stood up, feeling my blood pump evenly through me. I was no longer frozen and helpless, and the Otherworldly didn't have to know that I still wasn't strong enough to face him. Bugul ran into the courtroom, wiping his club clean against his trousers. His tie meant for the coronation hung loosely around his neck.

"Bugul!" I ordered. "Smash the mirrors!"

Without any argument, the Leprechaun lifted his heavy club and cleaned house. Glass flew through the air as he smashed the mirrors covering the far side of the room, making his way to the mirror in the center of it all. The Otherworldly hesitated. If he was going to do something, he'd better do it fast before he lost all his escape routes.

Glasses spewed out more poetry: " _The flutter of snow, the snap of a bow, the man in the mirror will breathe no more."_

Hobs brought his eyes upward. The near rhyme was the best Glasses could come up with at the spur of the moment. "How about . . ." Hobs said, raising his bow, " _He soon will be dead once you tear off his head?_ "

The Otherworldly cringed. The sword trembled in his hand. It wasn't the warm welcome he had expected to take advantage of. It wouldn't be so easy now to swoop in, kidnap me, and wipe out the rest of my people. I hoped that we were enough of a threat to keep him back.

Glaring at Hobs for being such a critic of his poetry, Glasses growled and turned his wrath on the Otherworldly. His posse of wolves attacked in a flurry of snapping jaws and howls, but they were still too far away.

The Otherworldly's eyes were on me. He stabbed the sword into the vine and wrenched something out of his bag of tricks that he had slung over his shoulder. He glanced over the line of mirrors. Like all mortals on this side, his reflection was missing, but that wasn't what he was looking at. He was studying me through the glass. I took a deep breath and faced him with all the courage I had left. He glared, and his hand landed on the strange contraption he had brought with him. It looked like a wooden spinning top.

"What is that thing?" I asked.

I turned to Hobs, and saw that his face had gone chalky white. "Why isn't he using the sword?" he asked.

Honestly, I had no idea what the Otherworldly was doing, but before he could turn that wooden spinning-thingamajig on us, he ducked and cried out. Bugul came at him with a club. The wolves nipped at his heels. He scrambled back against the mirror, dislodging the sword from the thick vine. He snapped his fingers at the beanstalk, and it wrapped around him. After scorching me with a longing stare that set my teeth on edge, the Otherworldly flew through the glass, heedless of injury. The rest of the vines sucked inside with him moments before Bugul smashed the mirror, sealing it shut forever.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

White shields they carry in their hands,

With emblems of pale silver;

With glittering blue swords,

With mighty stout horns.

In well-devised battle array,

Ahead of their fair chieftain

—translated by Kuno Meyer,

Laegaire mac Crimthainn's Visit to the Fairy Realm of Mag Mell

Besides the bells ending their toll, the chamber was silent. As soon as the last of their echo drifted from the room, the sun dashed through the window like someone flipped on a light switch in the middle of the night. The enchantment of winter was lifted. The Otherworldly was gone, and he had left us behind in a dissolving world. I was shocked to hear the sound of birds singing outside the melting windows. That was the quickest night ever.

Hobs breathed out in relief, turning to me. "It makes no sense. All he had to do was swing that sword and we'd all be dead." Was he joking? But Hobs looked serious. "He held the sword of Nuadha. Why did he put it down? No one can defeat the one who holds it."

"How did he not know?"

"I hope we gave him reason to wait." Hobs put down his bow. "If he's smart, he'll go after Bridgette." A flash of brilliant light startled the wolves, and they howled out, though I could barely register it after Hobs' disturbing words. Babs!

"My baby! At last you are back with us."

I turned, feeling my faery mother's arms wrap around me. Her long hair streamed behind her in a silky sheet of sunrays. She lost no time getting here. I supposed now that the Snow Queen was dead, her influence could no longer hold such a powerful being captive. The light in my mother's dress glistened under the fiery torches in the castle. _"With a kiss, one, two, three, the sun circles. Another world you'll see,"_ she repeated the enchantment she had put on me backstage. It seemed ages ago. _"Then one and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax."_

Three days in the Otherworld. Two days in the Sidhe. It was strange that everything had to do with returning to my mother, but now that I was with her, it all seemed secondary to everything else. My mother touched the crown on my head, and it glowed against her fingers. She laughed and hugged me again. "You've cracked the icy locks of our prison. My love, this castle is yours." She pulled back from our hug to look into my eyes. Tears glistened in hers. "Could it be true? After all this time, do you know who you are?"

I looked over her shoulder at Hobs; I couldn't help it. He was shaking his head so hard he was in danger of shaking it off. Just in case I couldn't read that, he scrunched his face to give me a warning look. Okay. Keep my name a secret. Check. I turned back to the faery queen and nodded dumbly. "Yeah."

She gave me a tight little smile, but didn't press me. "I knew you would." Her eyes burned with a strange inner light. My mother had the same porcelain-doll looks as the Snow Queen, but there was more emotion in her eyes; they were almost too bright.

Before I could figure it out, she guided me to a muscular, dark-haired man. He surveyed a fallen pillar next to the broken mirrors, taking stock of the damage to the castle. I recognized him immediately as the debonair man from the catwalks over the stage of my play, from the few moments before my mother banished him with a kiss. The faery king stood a few feet taller than all of us, strong and imposing. The capes of his cloak flowed around him—too dramatically. Was this my real father, then? My other father was so smiley, so gentle . . . more genuine.

"Your Majesty." My mother curtseyed elegantly to her husband. "Do you not see? Your daughter did what she was sent to do. She freed us."

My father didn't look impressed, but I couldn't blame him. We would be ruling a skeleton of this kingdom. I wiped my sweaty palms against my ripped skirt. Everything they once owned belonged to the Otherworldly, and now the guy would go after Babs. It was pretty hard to be happy about that.

My mother touched the tiara on my head—she couldn't keep away from it, like it was some kind of party gag. Under her fingers, it glowed through the room, sending rainbows of light over the slumping bricks of ice. "Welcome to your new home. All that I have is yours, my star." It wasn't much, but she hugged me to her anyway. And for a moment, it felt good . . . and wrong. There was another family I wanted to see, and a little girl. I had to remind them all that I still existed.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star," my mother whispered. Her words made me feel strange. Her fingers dug into my side, her arms like shackles. "Your heart is strong." She stepped back to study my face. "It is beating as it should. It works. I can feel it."

Oddly enough it was working against her. I knew I belonged in the faery queen's family, but if it meant I could never see my loved ones again, I'd rather not. And there was something else that felt wrong—her charm. There was too much of it, and it was consuming me. She had the power to make me forget everyone I cared about; I knew it the moment she called me "star." And if I wasn't wrong, she was already using this strange magic against me. I struggled to remain calm. Babs needed me to remember her.

I peeled the queen's fingers away from my arm, trying to look inconspicuous about it. "Mother." The word felt strange when talking to this woman. "Why did you tell me to bring her here?"

I didn't have to say Babs' name. My mother knew I was talking about the new successor of winter. Her long lashes lowered regretfully over the jewel gray of her eyes. "It was the only way to break the curse. You were as much a prisoner as she was. If you both didn't come, you'd be dead. Without a heart, you had nothing."

"Yes, but what will happen to her?"

She lifted a pointy chin, and watched me tenderly with eyes that were still too bright. "I had no choice, my child. I did what I thought best."

My father put his arm around his wife's delicate waist. He had dark features like mine and a permanent scowl. It was clear now where I got my looks. "Onagh, she won't understand. Not yet."

Her hand lingered over mine before she let me go. The faery king turned from us, taking in the wreck of the melting castle, seeing everything . . . and nothing. My new palace was in need of some major spring cleaning. The bodies of ogres were piled high. Wolves ran free. The nymphs backed up uncertainly. And if my father looked behind him, he'd see the son of the Snow Queen meeting my weary eyes. It had been a rough year for my faery parents. And for me? It had been a rough lifetime. His face twisted into a sneer. "We have much to do." He circled to Bugul, who loitered in the middle of it all, his tie askew. "Ah, there you are. Come forward!"

Bugul's boots crunched over the broken glass and ice. He threw his club down in front of him. My mother had sent him to protect me, and now his report was due. Despite the glass, he knelt on the floor before my parents, his manner far too servile. "Your Majesty," he said in a subdued voice.

No mouthy retort? I stepped back, giving Hobs a worried look. He kept a careful distance from me—from _them_. I didn't know what to expect from these new rulers. Hobs seemed to know. He tried to reassure me with his eyes, but it wasn't very convincing. He was my consort, after all—didn't he have a certain responsibility over me? I doubted he'd thought any of this through, especially since my new parents showed up so fast. Hobs was as stuck as I was.

The wolves backed away inconspicuously, practically moonwalking their way out, but not before my father dismissed their fates casually. "Banish the wolves from the Sidhe."

"No," I said without thinking. My father's eyes flashed at my disobedience. I straightened in the face of his anger. "They were very useful. If not for them, we'd all be dead."

He treated me to a brief, condescending smile that I didn't like or trust. "If not for them, we wouldn't have had this trouble in the first place."

"Finn," my mother said warningly. "Finvarra!"

But the faery king didn't heed her in the slightest, briskly murmuring out a spell through compressed lips. Fingers and claws broke from the ice sculptures where the Snow Queen had trapped the king's former guards. Tearing free from the hollow-eyed statues and gargoyles decorating the halls, they stepped out just as hideous. I felt my stomach turn on itself. Half man, half horse, half goat, half bird, half alien. Whatever. My parents had designer schizophrenia when it came to building an army. These soldiers were stranger than the ones belonging to the Snow Queen, as impossible as that seemed. They tried to stand up straight on hooves and paws. Considering they had been frozen for so long, it wasn't easy. They took up their weapons, eager to use them.

"When you have more experience, daughter, you will know how to rule your kingdom." I squinted under my father's clipped tone, already resenting it. "Until then, I shall guide you. Your reign shall be a long and prosperous one." He lowered himself onto the Snow Queen's melting throne, his cape billowing out from him like bat wings. "Frisk those stupid beasts. I shudder to imagine what valuables they've stolen from our castle."

As soon as the monstrous guards shook some feeling back into their frozen fingers, they dutifully rounded up the whimpering wolves. I was too shocked to move. I couldn't believe my father was doing this.

"My love," the faery queen lowered her voice, "—not in front of our daughter. She has an odd sort of attachment to them."

My father snorted impatiently. "Don't tell me how to run my kingdom. It has suffered long enough in the hands of those who know nothing."

My mother's head ducked, but I caught her expression. She hated him!

I didn't like their relationship nearly as much as the one my Otherworldly parents had. No, I didn't like _any_ of this nearly as much. And I didn't like how my memories kept hiding from me. Even now, my mother hummed that "twinkle" song under her breath, and I felt a wave of forgetfulness wash over me to erase parts of my past life. I fought it with everything that was in me, wishing I could get to Hobs. He was the sole guardian of my memories. He stood on the other side of my parents, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight on his bow, almost immovable as he watched them in the sea of shoving creatures that were hauled off to the dungeons.

For some reason, my parents hadn't acknowledged him yet. They argued instead, so involved in the unimportant that they failed to see the biggest threat against them. The nymphs were clapped in cuffs and led away. The guards emptied out the wolves' pockets (I had no idea they had any). They rounded up Gan Ceanach's destructive shadow, and I watched it all with a sick stomach. One of the guards found my book of faerytales on Glasses. The cultured wolf sniffed in disdain and let them take it.

My hands itched to get hold of that book. Hobs said they were our map out of here. Maybe _Jack and Jill_ held some clues; the Internet said that wells and streams could be a bridge to the other side. Or maybe the _Twelve Dancing Princesses_ had a way—they escaped the Sidhe. If the princesses were dancing, they could've been caught up in some powerful music. Magic slippers? Faery transporters? I had to figure it out before it was too late.

I stepped inconspicuously behind the guard; he was a half sheepdog, half fish. Hobs motioned me back, but since he was too far away, I ignored him and nodded casually to the strange hybrid who held the confiscated book of faerytales. He was a massive beast. Brown slop dripped from his gleaming shoulders and splattered onto me. I grimaced and with great daring, I reached for the book. "Oh, you've found it. How clever of you." The guard's forehead wrinkled and he held it easily out of my reach. I tried not to paw at him in my desperation. Instead, I adopted Hobs' casual voice. "Um, I'll take that book now."

"Get back." The guard lifted a beefy palm.

Before the man could smash me with it, Hobs was at my side. "The princess _thanks you_ for her book." The guard flinched in pain at Hobs' not-so-kind words. It made it easier for Hobs to pluck the faerytales from the scaled gloves and relay it to me from behind his back. Hobs then moved in between me and the scowling guard. "You new in town? Surely you recognize the daughter of your most gracious king?"

Using Hobs as my shield while the guard failed to match wits with him, I skimmed through the faerytales, flipping over huge clumps of pages at a time. There was one story I wanted. _Cinderella._ As soon as I found it, I smoothed down the page and skimmed through it. There was a girl, a stranger in her own country. Babs. It had to be Babs. And she was cursed with an outlandish curse. Love was blind.

Oh, no.

"Where did she go?" my father startled me by saying. "Now that the hag's gone, the ice is melting from the stone. We're running out of time. Wife, bring me your daughter!" I threw the book under my arm, hiding behind his dripping guard. "You must prepare for her coronation. Let's get this over with. The mirror will declare her the true sovereign tonight. At midnight. Send out the proclamation." The king snapped at the servants to prepare for some pointless celebration that I didn't want. There wasn't enough time to escape.

I backed into Hobs and slipped over the slick cobblestones in the process. For some bizarre reason, he didn't grab my hand, so I took his instead. He glanced down at me in surprise. I pulled closer to him, not caring if anyone saw us together.

"Your parents," he said. "They can't know that we . . ."

"I don't care. I'm worried about Babs. We can't let the Otherworldly get her." I drew him away, so I could talk to him. "She's in trouble. I accidentally cursed her."

"I know. It wasn't your fault, really. Nobody's first spell is that good."

"What's _he_ doing here?" the faery king bellowed.

I turned to see my father's face—it could've been chiseled out of fire, he looked so hot tempered. We were caught. My fingers squeezed Hobs', and his shoulders tightened in resignation. "Time to meet the parents." A bitter smile crept over his lips. "Long live the king and queen, right?"

I was the only one who heard him, but my father scowled anyway. He gave our hands a pointed look. I would've been flattered that he cared, but there was nothing paternal about it. It was political. I refused to let Hobs go. "Well, well. You've come out of hiding," my father said. Hobs dismissed him with his eyes, looking every inch a traitor to the crown. My father tried again. "If it isn't the Snow Queen's _devoted_ son. I should've guessed that I'd find him with his hands all over my daughter."

Was he for real?

Bugul took a deep breath, standing up hurriedly—even though he hadn't been given permission to stand. The poor Leprechaun had been forced to kneel for far too long. "He was actually quite helpful, my liege."

"He's a prince of the Unseelie court!" my father roared.

His anger made my knees buckle, and it took me a few seconds to recover. I glanced up at Hobs. "Unseelie Court?" I mouthed to him.

"The bad court." He didn't bother to lower his voice. "That means I'm bad. Your parents are from the Seelie court; that makes them _good_."

Wrong. I couldn't see a trace of goodness in this monarch—he seemed more a dictator. Bugul kept his eyes downcast as he tried to reason with my father. "Your Majesties, without him your daughter never would've survived the Sidhe."

"Get that silly tie off, man. I can barely look at you. What are you blathering about?"

Bugul sighed and unscrewed the tie from his neck. "He performed an invaluable service to the Crown, Your Majesties. He protected your daughter." My father's brows knit fiercely when he listened to Bugul's account of what happened between us. By the looks of things, we wouldn't get my father's blessing, but only one thing mattered right now—a little girl who was far away from his tyranny and was still suffering untold indignities. Well, fast food, anyway . . .

Now my mother was trying to reason with the king, and I knew it was only a matter of time before they started throwing faery kisses at each other or banishing Hobs. My grip tightened on him. Hobs was the only thing keeping me from getting lost in this strange new world.

"Hobs," I said. "Help me out of here. I think I'm losing my mind, my memories. These aren't my parents!"

"Yes, they are," he said through clenched teeth. "I hate to break it to you."

"You know who I am. This isn't it. Please, if it comes down to it, you have to remember for me. Please."

He had no idea what I was talking about. Of course not. The ice that made up the window pane was nearly gone. Outside, the flowers we had tromped on only yesterday were vibrant next to the deep forests. They sang happy songs about springtime. It was beautiful . . . and incomplete. Babs, Bridgette, Halley—whatever her name was—wasn't here. And my shadow was a double-crossing sneak. I shoved the faerytales into Hobs' hands. "Show me how to get to the Otherworld. I'm going after Babs."

His careful gaze was on my parents. "Watch what you say. You might get your wish." Their voices rose and he grunted out his displeasure. "And maybe that's okay. You _are_ her faery godmother after all." His hand trailed up my elbow and he looked regretful. "I'm surprised you didn't get that from the Merrow. I'm surprised you didn't get a lot of things from the Merrow." He grinned ruefully.

"Well, you stopped them from talking," I said.

"I told them I would make you my wife. I think they were jealous."

"Horrified," I corrected. "I'm still in high school."

"College . . . in a few days."

"Only when you fast-forward things."

"Done. You saw it for yourself. You and I have a future together."

I desperately hoped so. "Hobs, you've got to listen to me. I'm forgetting things, normal things I should know, like my parents' faces—not these ones! And, and I saw some things when . . ." His steady eyes were on mine, and I stuttered. "When you kissed me. Things in the future might be a little rough. We were being chased by something."

"It might have to do with _Rumpelstiltskin_." Hobs looked tense. "I was afraid that maybe . . . look, none of this has ended yet. You know that right?"

It hadn't? But what was with that whole battle with the Snow Queen? And learning my name and earning my crown? I wasn't sure I wanted to know what else was out there. Keeping an eye on my parents, Hobs cracked open the faerytales and found another story. I groaned when I looked over his arm. Hobs was right. This wasn't the ending. The tale of _Rumpelstiltskin_ hadn't changed a bit, even if the Snow Queen had died.

It didn't make sense. Who would try to trade me to the Otherworldly for the four treasures? I turned over what was familiar in my mind. As I recalled, there was a king involved. Hadn't the king locked his bride-to-be in that chamber full of straw? To win his love, the queen made their child the poor victim to Rumpelstiltskin's designs. Hobs turned to look at my arguing parents. You'd think they'd be happy I had found true love—if that's what this was. But they only acted like it got in the way . . . of something else.

Hobs' expression darkened. "You don't think they'd—" His eyes narrowed into dark slits. "Oh, I get it." As he said it, I realized the terrible truth too. Unbelievable! No wonder the books of faerytales were forbidden here. _My parents_ were going to give me away, and they wanted to keep it secret. Why else did they tear me from my loving parents in the Otherworld? They didn't care about me at all.

"You realize," Hobs said, "it's only a matter of time before they kick me out."

Hobs would get in the way of their plans. My father wasn't particularly attached to me. My mother appeared too weak to help me. And soon I wouldn't know my name from Rumpelstiltskin's—as long as my mother kept stealing my memories. Hobs was the only thing standing between me and this Otherworldly.

His eyes didn't leave mine, like he was afraid I'd crumple at the news. "Don't take it personally. They probably think they have no choice but to give in to his demands—a deal they made before you were born. They're just too stupid to see it's a trap."

"Their sacrifice could save the Sidhe." I felt the sob catch in my throat, and realized I _was_ hurt. "How else will we defeat the Otherworldly?"

"They won't be using you."

I couldn't believe this was happening. "There are courts here," I said. "The judges who put Ratis on trial—couldn't we go to them for help?"

"The Twelve are worse than they are. There are only a few things they care about, and it's not us." Hobs fumbled with the swirly toy and shoved it into my hands. "Give it to me. Make a gift of it."

"Okay." I felt stupid, but when I gave the toy back to him, he smiled in relief. "I give this swirly toy to you," I said.

"It's called a fey stone, but don't worry. The incantation will still work. Anything you want me to see or hear, I will now. Every reflection will bring you back to me." Hobs steadied himself. "Meet me tonight? At the change of stars?"

I really needed to learn the culture around here. "When's that?"

"Before midnight. Roughly. Come to me before they try to crown you. I'll have something to show you by then. It changes everything."

I looked outside the castle windows, trying to be inconspicuous about it. The courtyard was now a flooded meadow of tiny waterfalls. "Where? In some puddle?"

"What used to be the Mirror of Reason." It was where we had first seen the hag building up her vast armies. "You heard your dad. They're crowning you with the help of the last treasure. The Stone of Fal. It's under the ice, hidden from the Otherworldly. I think that's why my mom froze our world over: in her own way, she was keeping us safe. Not that she cared, not after what _they_ did to her. She was out for revenge."

By now, my mother's back was to us while she gave my father the silent treatment. He tried to placate her by wrapping his arms around her. "My love, I am not trying to take over, but this is the only way. We must act now."

Hobs turned from them, exchanging looks with me. "Don't let them force you to stand on the stone. It cries out under the rightful sovereign, but my mother told me something before you came back to me . . . before she died. If she's right, the stone _will_ kill you."

The world was melting too fast, and taking my memories of Babs with it. And now my life was in danger? I nodded, feeling my own eyes watering over.

Hobs reached out to brush my cheek with our combined knuckles, trying to comfort me. "Everything will be fine."

"How can you be sure?"

"One kiss is all it takes to know." He gave me that mischievous look I loved so much. "Want to find out?"

I smiled. _Well . . . yeah._ I liked him more than I should, but I couldn't take more bad news. He saw my hesitation. "You don't still have that ice stuck in your heart?"

"I wish."

"Uh, that's a joke, right?"

Despite everything, I laughed.

My father swiveled from my mother to glare fiercely down at us. "The faery queen and I thank you for your service to the Crown, my boy."

Hobs looked pained at the gratitude, and just a little cross.

"I'm sure you have far better places to spread your mischief. Perhaps other girls to visit?" My father sniggered cruelly at me, having inserted that solely for my benefit.

Hobs' mouth tilted upward in perfect Puck fashion. He gave me a meaningful expression over my hand as he bent to kiss it. It was meant to encourage me, and it did the trick. I trusted him more than anyone here. "Remember this." He used the same words he used to ingrain the faery rules into my mind, keeping his voice lowered from my new parents. "We will meet again. At the change of the stars. You mustn't forget."

His lips touched the bare skin at my wrist and I felt something strange flow through me. Faery kisses always had mischief in them. Now that Bugul had his voice box, I'd ask him what this one meant.

"Do you feel that?" Hobs asked. The warmth in his eyes filled me. "We belong together."

My father growled low under his breath, but because he didn't do anything, I figured he didn't have the power. Hobs was a prince—of course, if my father had anything to do with it, this prince wouldn't be mine.

Hobs didn't look away from me. "Even if the prophecies were against us," he said in a voice now meant for everyone else, "I'd fight them too. Nothing will separate us." He let go of my hand, releasing each finger slowly until he held me only with his gaze. He straightened, his mother's talisman swinging against his chest. "You're not a prisoner here."

The remaining bite of my apple lay abandoned just a few feet from us. Hobs abruptly left me and crushed it under his foot with unnecessary force. No, I wasn't a prisoner. I didn't eat it all. Water dripped from the slushy ceilings onto Hobs' face, dripping down his hair and down his tan neck. His world had collapsed because of me, and yet he still wanted me. I wanted to be with him too. I believed in him more than I had ever believed in anyone. His loyalty was to me, not to this faery king.

He bowed low, first to my father and then to my elegant mother. "Your Majesties, until we meet at midnight." Under my father's disgusted look, Hobs scraped the remaining bits of the apple off the thick soles of his oxfords. He did it slowly against the cobblestones with just the exact trace of mockery. It was enough to make the king fume. "Take care of my princess," Hobs said. "Or your reign will not be a long one."

I winced at that, but instead of ordering his head off, my father treated him to a stubborn nod. My mother managed a stressed-out smile.

After a backwards glance at me and a devilish wink, Hobs left the castle with his usual swagger. It was his trademark, after all. He had Babs' swirly toy in his hand. It dangled through his long fingers.

I couldn't wait to collect it from him.

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,

We will make amends ere long,

Else the puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

—Puck, _Midsummer Night's Dream_

THE END

We hope you have enjoyed the first novel of the Twisted Tales Series, _With a Kiss._ For your convenience, we have included a sample of the sequel to this novel, _At Midnight,_ a young adult paranormal novel that is the second book in the _Twisted Tales series_ also by Stephanie Fowers, beginning on the next page.

After that, a _Glossary of Faery Terms_ , a _List of Creatures_ , and a map are also available.

A list of all books by Stephanie Fowers can be found in the "About the Author" section after the sample chapter.

# At Midnight

## Chapter One

Laughed every goblin  
When they spied her peeping:  
Came towards her hobbling,  
Flying, running, leaping,  
Puffing and blowing,  
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,  
Clucking and gobbling,  
Mopping and mowing

—Christina Rossetti, _Goblin Market_

"Do you want fries and a drink with that?" I asked.

The lady tapped her long nails against the counter at FasFoo—the tacky name of our little fast food restaurant on Main Street; it didn't bring in the most polite of customers. She heaved a long, exasperated sigh. "Did I _ask_ for fries and a drink?"

"No."

She gave me a pointed look.

That must mean she was through ordering. I handed her the receipt. "One double slab beef burger coming up."

Behind me, Wayne prepared two meat patties. This was his first day on the job. We were seniors at Omak High, and the only thing we had in common was that we were both the losers there. He couldn't figure out how to connect with anyone socially, and from the moment I stepped over the school's sacred threshold, everyone hated me—even Wayne.

He averted his face from mine and threw two meat patties on the burner. They sizzled, adding to the grease in the room. I fiddled with my hat. It was shaped like a hamburger and refused to stay on my head.

An old man stood next in line. His white hair was pulled back in a hippy ponytail. He had a long, hooked nose and paper-white skin that stuck to his bones like peeling wallpaper. By the looks of his scowl, he was a crotchety one. "I want the usual!" Great. He was already shouting.

I winced. "Um, so . . . what's the usual?"

He tried to stare the answer out of me. When that didn't work, he braced himself against the counter with his big Viking hands and gave me an intimidating glare. "The same thing I get every day."

I felt my face go beet red. "And what would that be, sir?"

"You don't know?"

I searched my mind and came up with nothing. No way could I pick him out of a lineup. "No. Sorry, sir."

"Unbelievable." The guy took it as a personal insult. I thought maybe I would remember his order after this . . . if I survived. I looked everywhere but at him. He was awkwarding me out. "Just listen, little girl. Okay, it's not that hard. Pay attention. I don't want it on a round bun. I want it on a long bun!"

"A long bun?"

"Yes, a long bun!"

"A croissant?"

"No!" His tone told me I was the dumbest girl in existence, which I could be.

I glanced behind me. Wayne wasn't any help; he fiddled with the net on his greasy blond hair. I searched the breads at his elbow. We had the usual hamburger bun, the croissant, the fancy wheat and white breads meant for plain sandwiches. "Oh, do you want a sandwich?"

The guy jerked away from the counter. "Where's your manager? I want to talk to your manager!" He squinted at my name badge. "Bridgette."

Well, he knew _my_ name. I felt violated. "Uh, we're the only ones working here. If you want to fill out a comment card and put it in the box . . ."

"I want it cooked medium well on a long bun. That's all I want!"

I knew better than to ask if he meant the comment card. Wayne nudged me. "He wants a hotdog."

Even the new guy could read minds. I typed the order into the register before our dissatisfied customer could take my head off with it. I ducked just in case. "Do you want a drink with that?" He gave me a long stare that I couldn't quite meet. "No?"

"Of course I do!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." I tried to smile to ease the bad vibes. It was one of the lamer things I did when trying to make friends out of people who hated me. The old guy looked more irritated, if that was possible. I felt like pointing at the tree outside the window to distract him. "Will that be all?" It came out a squeak.

"What do you think?"

After a moment, I hazarded a guess. "Yes?"

"Stupid! I'm never coming back here again! Just wanted a long bun . . ." He stormed out of the restaurant. The bells rang after him. Apparently that meant we lost a lifetime customer. I felt my stomach attack my toes.

Wayne shrugged. "At least he didn't fill out a complaint."

I crumpled the receipt in my hand. The lady's order was almost up. I pulled on some plastic gloves and scooped up the hamburger buns with shaky fingers. Wayne dumped the patties on the bun and I began applying the ketchup.

"Stop! Are you dumb?" The lady pointed her long nails at me. "I don't want ketchup on that!"

"Oh." I wiped it off the patty. She looked shocked. I fumbled with the mustard and squirted it all over my black apron. It joined the canvas of splattered ketchup like a Picasso attack.

Wayne grimaced behind me and threw two more patties on the burner to start her order over. "We're almost out of patties."

I felt the heat prickle at my neck. The patties were in the basement. Easy access to anyone but me. There were things down there I didn't want to face. Wayne watched me without blinking. I tried to figure out how to get around this without looking too weird. I toyed with the idea of taking Wayne with me for protection, but the lady glared at us to make sure we got her order right. There weren't any other customers—it was the perfect time to leave the new guy to fend for himself.

Maybe I'd be fine this time. Wayne stared at me quizzically. There was no way I'd be able to explain this without looking crazy, so setting my shoulders, I did what any self-respecting female would do; I headed for danger. Leaving the cash register behind, I forced down my quickening breath. Better to get killed than to look stupid, right?

Passing through the back of Fasfoo, I switched on the light from the top of the stairs. There was a yellow florescent bulb hanging from the middle of the room like it belonged in a torture chamber. It lit the basement in an eerie light, not quite erasing the shadows clinging to the farthest corners of the room. I gripped the railing, making my way down the stairs. So far nothing had jumped out. Maybe nothing would.

The patties were in the walk-in freezer at the end of the basement. My footsteps against the cement floor broke the silence. Nothing was down here. _Nothing was down here._

I passed the counter filled with cups and utensils and napkins and found the freezer. I pushed down the handle. The door scraped against the floor when I opened it, and the cold air blew into my face. The patties were reaching distance on the rack to the side. As long as I didn't go in, I'd be okay. I stretched out my fingers, keeping my legs firmly anchored outside. Just another inch and I'd have them.

Before I could react, I felt a rough hand against my back. It propelled me into the freezer and shoved me hard against the back wall. My head smacked against a few racks. The door slammed shut behind me and the light snuffed out with it.

They didn't usually touch me! I tried not to freak out. They liked to scare me, but until now they'd never hurt me. I reached up and felt the blood in my hair. I officially came unglued, pounding against the door, screaming as if someone could hear me. "Let me out!" I was kidding myself. No one would hear me down here. I stopped throwing myself against the door and listened to the sound of my heart . . . and something else. It was behind me. I swiveled, not able to see through the darkness. I wasn't alone in here. I never was alone _anywhere_.

My heart thudded painfully against my chest. "Oh, c'mon," I wailed out to whatever was here with me. "Someone is going to come looking for me. You can't keep me in here forever." Still nothing. My breath came out in a mist. It almost covered the sound of the low wheezing behind me. I inched away from it, swallowing back the panic. "So, this is it, huh? Are you gonna kill me this time?"

Loud laughter echoed through the freezer. My head jerked around like a ragdoll as if I could find the source of the noise in this darkness. Whatever it was, it came from the beef patties. I refused to believe the meat was laughing at me. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, pulling into myself, shivers racking over my body, goose bumps taking over my skin. How long would this thing play with me before it let me out? Maybe it would keep me here forever.

That was enough to make me go for the door, feeling for the cracks along the edges. It was sealed tight. I hit at it, knowing it was futile. I couldn't get out. No one would come for me. Not in time. I heard a footstep behind me. Just one.

I slid to the floor, digging my fingers under the door. My breath came out in gasps. I couldn't speak, couldn't tell whatever was coming at me to stop. Another step. This time it was followed by the sound of something heavy dragging behind it. As soon as I moved, the thing ran for me. I screamed, feeling something cold shoved into my hands. I screamed louder.

The door sparked and I couldn't pull away. My head felt dizzy with screaming and I couldn't stop. Fire crackled around the edges of the door, illuminating it into a perfect outline. I squeezed my eyes shut. None of this was real. It was all in my head. I was doing this to myself. But when I smelled the smoke, I wrenched my eyes open. I'd burn alive in here. The thought threw me into a panic, and a powerful wind built up around me. My ponytail whipped painfully against my face.

The freezer door shot open like an explosive was behind it, and I might as well have been the explosive because I tore outside, paddling my arms as I took the stairs three at a time. The basement door was already closing, but slowly. These things—whatever they were—enjoyed teasing me. My hat swayed unevenly over my head. By some miracle it managed to stay on, but not for long. A pale hand with hairy fingers ripped the obscene thing off me, tearing some of my blonde hair out with it.

"Poor little girl," it crooned.

I whimpered out in pain and it laughed. Nothing about this was funny! I couldn't bring myself to look behind my shoulder to see its tissue-thin face. The things always slipped away so quickly that I never saw any of them fully—just the grins.

They aren't real. They aren't real. They aren't real!

Of course, that didn't make me any less scared. I wriggled around the basement door, squeezing through to the other side before it slammed hard behind me.

I fell against the counter in the back of FasFoo, keeping as much distance from the basement as I could. My throat hurt from screaming. My legs felt like they'd tremble away from me. I tried to stand, but couldn't. After a moment, I realized that the cold thing that had been shoved into my hand was only a package of beef patties.

Bursting into tears never helped, especially when people saw them. They asked questions. I stared up at the lights and breathed evenly, trying to force out the fear and sadness. This was all in my head. Counselors, psychiatrists, the home—everyone but me—agreed it was ridiculous. I needed to learn to deal with my fear of abandonment. That's why I made up these . . . friends . . . except they weren't friends. They were ghosts, I was sure of it. I thought I would be safe at work, but now they followed me from the home, too. They were everywhere.

No, stop. Count to ten. I had to force these shadows out of my life and face real fears . . . like real breathing people, and the fact that they all hated me. That was the reason no one could stay with me for long, why I was forced to move from ten different homes in a matter of three months. I had no idea who my parents were and why I couldn't remember anything before then.

I held my head. Mr. Starr told me I wasn't unlovable, Mr. Starr—of all people—whose daughter wanted to run me out of the school. I sighed. Starr was the latest in a string of psychologists who thought they could help me. Any time I felt worthless and saw these . . . creatures, I was supposed to think of the good things in my life. And wait for someone else to disappear.

I had only one defense. Closing myself off, withdrawing from everything and everybody. It made people less likely to run out on me—even if Mr. Starr warned me it wasn't healthy. I sighed and tried to think of his kind face, his blond hair starting to gray, the gentle humor in his eyes. He reassured me that no one would hurt me; he wouldn't abandon me. With that kind of talk, it wouldn't be long before I lost him too. I felt the tears prick at my eyes.

I put my hands on my knees, letting the bag of patties swing past them. Calm down. It was going to be all right. It wasn't real. I was okay. The usual pep talk wasn't working. I could hear more FasFoo customers out in the front. The new guy desperately tried to fend off the dinner rush.

There were too many mean people out there. Soon I'd have to face them. I stared at the back door that led to the gravel parking lot where I had chained up my bike. I could just leave. And then what? I had an agreement with the group home. FasFoo was my last chance. If I messed this one up, they'd ship me to a place with more restrictions. I just needed some air. Then I could do it.

I managed to find my unsteady feet and pushed out to the front, trying to keep myself from falling apart during the dinner rush. "Uh Wayne," I plopped the patties next to him on the counter. His eyes widened in surprise. I knew I looked bad, but I tried to pat my blonde hair down to fix it. "So . . . uh, the window looks really dirty out there. I'm going to clean it up real quick. Be right back!"

His dark, watery eyes strayed to the line of people at the cash register. Before he could protest, I scooped up the glass cleaner and headed outside without grabbing my coat. As soon as I was out the door, the cold wind slapped against my face, forcing the tears back. I made quick squirts on the glass, knowing I couldn't hide for long. I just needed enough time to turn myself into stone so I couldn't feel anymore.

Mountains of snow were piled high on either side of the parking lot. The wind blew over it, blasting me in the back. It was the worst winter that anyone here could remember, which figured since it was the only one _I_ remembered. The sun was on its way down. Cars heading down Main Street switched on their headlights, rushing for home and people who loved them. I decided not to think about that, either. I squirted the glass cleaner on the windows again, pretending to find more fingerprints. I only had a few minutes before the customers staged a mutiny. I sniffed, shoving my feelings back where I couldn't feel them. I could do this.

" _Wait a second, that's Babs! I mean, Halley, I guess."_

My fingers stopped on the glass when I heard the girl's voice. No one was there.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie Fowers loves bringing stories to life, and depending on her latest madcap ideas will do it through written word, song, and/or film. She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., BBC (which she supposes includes non-bonnet movies Sherlock and Dr. Who). Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she's living the life of the starving artist.

Latest projects include a workshop of her musical, "The Raven" with the talented composer, Hilary Hornberger. She also expects to film some shorts with Triad Film Productions. Stephanie plans to bring more of her novels out to greet the light of day. Be sure to watch for her upcoming books, including YA fantasy, science fiction, mysteries, a compilation of short twisted fairy tales, and more—many more—romantic comedies. May the adventures begin.

For more information, see: www.stephaniefowersbooks.com

For more information on Twisted Tales Series (including faery hunter guide and glossary), see: www.stephanie-fowers.com

For more information on The Raven, a new musical, see:www.theraven-musical.com

**BOOKS BY STEPHANIE FOWERS**

**Twisted Tales Series** (Young Adult Paranormal)

With a Kiss (book one)

At Midnight (book two)

As the Sun Sets (book three)

Romantic comedies

Rules of Engagement (LDS Romantic Comedy)

Meet Your Match (LDS Romantic Comedy)

Prank Wars (Romantic Comedy/ Mystery)

# List of creatures in Twisted Tales:

(Also listed on www.stephanie-fowers.com)

**Anthousai** : A race of faery that takes up flower form to brave out the winter. They are notorious tattletales and cause untold distress to their victims.

**Bean Tigh** : Faery in the form of an elderly, adult-sized woman. Her cheeks are dimpled and rosy. She is the female version of Santa Clause. She closes drafty windows with capable fingers. See *Silkies.

**Banshees:** Handmaidens to the Queen Ratis. Failed to save their queen from the *Otherworldly and consequently banished to the mortal world. Cursed to roam there as living corpses; they wail and cry, move like spiders and talk in riddles. Only their intended victims hear them.

**Barguest:** A big, black dog the size of a pony. It guards great treasure and brings fair maidens to safety.

**Beast:** See *Hound of Ulster.

**Bodoach:** Ancient faery man from the Unseelie Court, steals children. Though it limps, moves at the speed of a horse. Shimmering red eyes.

**Bogie** : General term for a faerie in the Unseelie Court. See *Goblin

**Brags:** Faery from the Unseelie Court. Takes the form of what the victim most fears.

**Brownies:** Informants planted in the home of mortals. Size of rodents, live in the walls, possess big eyes that give them the appearance of innocence. Cute as a bug, annoying like ants.

**Buggar:** A race of shapeshifting faeries in the Unseelie Court. When in true form, these Fae's eyes hold the essence of every shape they've ever taken. Also known as a *Shapeshifter

**Bugul:** An advisor to the courts, a species of Leprechaun. Googly cross-eyes, big bulbuous nose, mottled skin, dwarf-like in stature. Despite the rags and their ghastly appearance, this race is cultured and highly intelligent.

**Buttery sprites:** A bogie from the Unseelie Court. Small leathery body, laughs loudly, and inhabits basements owned by crooked business owners in the mortal world.

**Bwbach:** Goblin from the Unseelie Court. Clammy hands, small slimy body. Waves its skinny arms whilst running away from horseshoes. Plays tricks. Otherwise known as the Grinner.

**Cailleach:** Keeper of the Stone of Fal, sovereign of the city Falias. Affiliated with, and the ruler of, the Unseelie Court. Staged a revolution against Queen Onagh and brought winter to the Sidhe.

**Cat Sidhe:** Faery cat that changes shapes. Once belonged to the Norn before stolen by the Otherworldly, who then added insult to injury by also confiscating their spindle.

**Changeling:** Faery switched at birth with a mortal. Fae infants undergo a changing so as to survive the Otherworld. Often sickly as babies. Some die. 23% mortality rate.

**Cucui:** Oversized drooling monsters. Delight in and gain power through the fear of their victims, stomp loudly through the house to scare the inhabitants. Travel through the walls, their huge forms creating hulking bubbles in the ceiling.

**Cuimilt:** Faery noble from the Seelie Court. Known for its distrust of mortals. Has the ability to skin Fae and mortals alive with a touch of its sticky fingers. It then wears the skin of its victims. See also *Skinwalker.

**Cursed** : Mortals who have been cursed by the Fae so as to give them disabilities or special powers. Also known as The Cursed.

**Cyclops:** A giant from the Unseelie Courts, possesses only one eye that shoots flames at its victims. It may or may not have possessed an eye at an earlier time.

**Dóiteáin eitilt:** Firefly-sized faeries who sing lullabies to children to lull them to sleep. See *Silkies.

**Domvoi** : Creatures from the Unseelie Court that burn down houses. Only salt gets rid of them because they're a tad OCD.

**Dones d'aigua:** Winged Fae guards from the East in the city of Gorias. Part bird/ part women, sent to guard Ratis in the tower after she betrayed her people.

**Doppleganger:** A faery creature who takes on the face and build of their victims in order to scare, take advantage of, or otherwise steal their worldly assets. Commonly experience an identity crisis. See also *Fylgia and *Wraith.

**Dormette:** Miniature French maid faery wearing a blue dress. Gives children pleasant dreams. See *Silkies.

**Dragons:** Pets used to guard the Twelve in the High Council. They are the size of large dogs with jewel-toned scales and delicate faery wings. Kept under submission with the use of jewel encrusted chains and gold buckles. Fascinated with treasure, in a debilitating way.

**Dryads:** Faery prisoners sentenced to live out the remainder of their lives in trees. Guilty of serious crimes.

**Dunedes:** Bogies from the Unseelie Courts. Live in the walls and make bumps in the night.

**Fae:** Plural form and proper noun of faery. See *Faery.

**Faery:** Descendant of Neit the war god (share common ancestor with the Fomorians). Some species of Fae closely resemble mortals in body type, while other species more closely resemble mortal animals. They inhabit the Sidhe, though some coexist in the Otherworld with mortals. Vary in shapes, sizes, magic, and intelligence levels.

**Faery hunter** : A mortal (usually The Cursed or a Skinwalker), who fights against faery oppression and/ or to win the power of the Fae by using the Fae's own magic against them.

**Finvarra** : King of the Sidhe, consort to Queen Onagh. Holder of the royal blood necessary to seal the queen to her duties so that she may rule with the four treasures. Wears a black cloak holding many great and secret powers. Affiliated with the Seelie Court.

**Fodden:** Unseelie creatures who live underground, known to abduct humans in the Otherworld. Their fingers claw through the dirt before they pull mortals under with them. Not intelligent.

**Fomorian:** Original invaders and settlers of the Sidhe. They rule the Fae from a distance, moving with the ease of snakes. Organs visible from the outside of their bodies, possessing one leg, one eye, one arm—all connected into one monstrous form. Control lesser life forms with the use of their glowing blue eye. Greet subjects with this tribute; "You will have our hospitality in return for yours." To which the subordinate responds; "Oh great Elatha, with justice we rule, with justice we die. Seven rules of the Faery kingdom we hold most high."

**Fylgia:** A creature from the Unseelie court. Its membrane copies a mortal's essence and transforms from his/ her shadow to become a mirror image in order to fill in for the victim (as soon as said victim disappears). When in shadow form, Fylgias also serve as personal guardians. See also *Doppelganger.

**Giants:** Oversized faeries, muscular chests the width of a beam, taller than eight feet. Documented cases of taller breeds at the height of 51 feet. Also known as ettins, yetuns, yotuns.

**Gnome:** Rodent-sized faery, wears miniature suit, naturally curious, tears things up around the house, though quite on accident. Usually ambivalent. See also * _Wichtln_.

**Goblin:** General term for a faerie in the Unseelie Court, usually of a malevolent, mischievous, or destructive nature. Also known as *Bogie.

**Golem** : A type of dark, unintelligent Fae life force that looks for empty bodies to inhabit. Zombie-like in behavior. Its power builds and feeds on faery magic and weakens the faery who uses this magic by stealing it. Golems act as a powerful faery trap in an ambush. A favorite of witches, wizards, and scientists. See *Tatty Bogle.

**Grim:** Unseelie creatures, human in shape with barrel chests and black fur. Horned, tall as trees, and fanged. They bend over double before they lunge in for the attack. Populate forests.

**Hag:** A female faery with great power. Extremely ugly (covered in warts and hair) or extremely beautiful (rosy youthful skin and silken hair). Mortals sometimes use the word hag as a derogatory term for an actual witch or for someone who acts in unpleasant ways. See also *Night Hag.

**Hedley Kow** : An Unseelie Bogie known for its horselaugh.

**Hobgoblin:** Mischievous faery from the Unseelie Court. Harasses, tricks. Also known as Pan, imp, pagan, trickster, Robgoblin, Robin, Pixie, and Puck.

**Hollows:** Lost spirits of the Fae, who are unable to return to their final resting place in the stars for various reasons. When haunting, these souls occupy locations of great significance where they cry out against the wrongs that killed them. They are a mere shadow of the Fae's former power at death.

**Hound of Ulster:** Unseelie creature that shapeshifts at the peak of its anger, otherwise known as a *riastrad (see Faery glossary). Its eyes change colors according to the many essences held inside its body. Its form is feline and canine with black and gold runes glowing over its skin. It dispatches its enemies en masse. Also known as *Beast. See also *Buggar.

**Human:** Similar in body type, shape, and size of Fae royalty, occupies the Otherworld. (See *Otherworld in Faery glossary). Though unaware of it, humans coexist with faeries on a regular basis, and are ignorant of magic. Though humans are akin to some immortals in appearance, faeries can easily identify them. Also known as mortal. See also: *Otherworldly.

**Ialtóg:** Batlike demons with wings, noses like smashed olives. Often confused for bats until they suck the victim of its blood.

**Illes:** Unseelie creatures that wind through the branches of trees with snakelike bodies. They suffocate and inflict disease on victims with a grinning, clown face.

**Keeper:** One of the four princesses in the Sidhe with the right to handle the four treasures. *Niamh, *Ratis, *Cailleach, and *Onagh were the original keepers (See *Four Treasures in Faery glossary).

**Kobolds:** Shadows that hide in the stumps of trees, brown rodent-like bodies that swarm past feet and devour almost anything. Often victims of food poisoning.

**Lady of the Mirror** : A faery with pale dead skin and long red hair. Her touch burns. She pulls girls through mirrors, pleading for the true sovereign to come to the Sidhe to overthrow Fae oppressors. Her chant: "Reveal what is lost. Redeem what is lost, restore what is lost."

**Leprechaun:** A race cursed with great powers. Immune to almost all magic and charms against Faeries; they are invaluable to both Seelie and Unseelie Courts as servants. The coins of their race act as a punishment due to their ancestor's betrayal against the Fae; the gold curbs the Leprechauns' great powers and enslaves them to the courts until they can work off their indentures.

**Lull** : Faery who dances both Fae and mortal babies to sleep. Her brown faery skirts brush against their cheeks, enticing them to close their eyes. See *Silkies.

**Mermaid:** Part Fae woman/part fish, who inhabit the canals in the city of Murias. They help to guard the Cup of Dagda. Also known as sirens because they warn travelers of danger with a scream that impersonates an alarm. Beautiful and sweet-spirited. Infinitely different from *Merrow.

**Merrow** : Part woman/part fish. Scaly green skin, green eyes and long seaweed hair. Incurable gossips. They steal their victim's thoughts and twist it into lies in order to cause a fight.

**Minotaur:** Body of a Fae male, head of a bull. Thickheaded bullies.

**Muma:** Helps lost Fae and mortal children return to their parents. Tall, her head runs into most ceilings in the Otherworld.

**Nan Ceanach:** Love talker. He is drop-dead gorgeous with dark hair and eyes. Pipe dangles from his full lips. Sand in his hair. Happens to be missing his shadow.

**Nan Ceanach's Shadow** : As ugly as Nan is beautiful. Outwardly terrifying...if anyone can catch sight of it—few have, even fewer survived it.

**Nanny Buttoncap** : Faery who tucks Fae and mortal children into their beds. Wears a mobcap.

**Night Hag:** Puts the ugly in hag. Steals fair maidens and drains them of their power and beauty; stores for later use (hoarders). See also *Hag.

**Niamh:** Keeper of the cup, sovereign of the city of Murias. Lover of mortals. Kissed a mortal to give him the power to return her stolen treasure to her. Inadvertently started the war between the mortals and Fae.

**Norn:** Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld. The three ladies of fate, who transform from old to young from young to old as they work with the *Snáth den saol (see Faery Glossary). Pronounces destinies upon the heads of sovereigns in triplet rhymes. Their spindle was stolen by the Otherworldly.

**Nymphs** : Long-legged Fae beauties who love to party, dance, and sing. Vain and jealous, the girls hold great power and use it against anyone who steals their man away from them. Nymphs of note: Glistenda, Bubbles, Peach Blossom.

**Oaf:** A faery switched at birth with a mortal. Also used as a derogatory term for someone who is clumsy.

**Ole Luk OJ** : Crotchety old faery with a walking stick. Gathers dust in his wrinkly palms and blows dust into the eyes and necks of Fae and mortal children alike to help them drift into a deep sleep. See *Silkies.

**Ogre:** Big, nasty, sweaty, stinky, oversized Fae with green mottled skin. Really really dumb. Oftentimes their chant: "Eat children! Eat children!" turns to "Children eat! Children eat!"

_Orculli:_ _Giants from the Unseelie Courts. Cannibalistic, but generally goodhearted._

**Onagh:** The queen of the Sidhe, affiliated with the Seelie Courts. Keeper of the lost four treasures until the rightful sovereign can be crowned.

**Otherworldly:** Any mortal who inhabits the *Otherworld, or what humans know as earth (see Faery Glossary). See also *human. Though recently, this is a term used to refer to one specific mortal who stole the four faery treasures. This mortal plots to steal the firstborn who holds the royal right to use these treasures. Also known as Rumpelstiltskin.

**Paras:** Unseelie creatures who steal from their hosts' neighbors and torment the lazy and greedy.

**Penate:** Fae who must clean everything by dawn or disappear from whence they came.

**Puck:** See *Hobgoblin.

**Puddlefoot:** Unseelie bogie that leaves puddles everywhere it goes. Name this creature and it goes away.

**Ratis:** Keeper of the wand, sovereign of the city Gorias. Golden-haired one. Betrayed the people, sentenced by the *Twelve and kept in a tall tower in Falias for her crimes, her wings clipped.

**Ronguer d'os:** An evil spirit that takes the form of a dog, gnawer of bones. Picks on lone travelers.

**Sasquatch.** See *Skinwalker

**Satyr:** Part Fae man, part goat. Loves to party with Nymphs.

**Scientist** : Male and/or female mortal who steals faery magic through means of catching a faery and torturing the secrets of the Fae from them in order to pass it off as modern discovery. See *Wizard and *Witch.

**Seelie:** A Fae belonging to one of the two royal courts in the *Sidhe (see Faery Glossary). The uninformed generally describe the Seelie Court as the 'good' court.

**Seelie guards** : Hybrid guards created by Onagh and Finvarra. A vulgar monster made up of the parts of every mortal, Fae, and animal imaginable.

**Shades:** Pale, beautiful Fae women with flowing dresses and shimmering eyes. Their touch burns and causes scars. They are drawn to Fae and mortal girls with a curiosity that could kill their victims.

**Shapeshifter** : See *Buggar.

**Shellycoats:** Fae from the Unseelie Court who inhabit forests and lonely roads. They have the appearance of porcupines. Instead of needles, they are covered with shells. Known to mislead poor travelers and lose them in the forest.

**Silkies:** Any Fae known to entice both Fae and mortal children to sleep. Ranging from the size of tiny flaming dots, rodent sizes, and mortal adults. See *Dormette, *Ole Luk OJ, *Nanny Buttoncap, *Bean Tigh, *Dóiteáin eitilt.

**Sjotrol:** Waterlogged beasts. Emerge from lakes and rivers to drown unwary travelers. Runes etched on stone on either side of the bay will keep them captive. Fae and mortal alike must beware when the mist obstructs the runes.

**Skinwalkers** : Mortals who steal the skin of animals, mortals, and Fae in order to take the borrowed skin's power or otherwise hide under another identity. The Cursed were the first to borrow this practice through the help of a traitorous Fae. See the *Cursed. Stitching behind the ears identifies a Skinwalker. Sometimes mistaken for a Sasquatch. See also *Cuimilt.

**Sovereign Queen:** She is the rightful ruler of the Sidhe, of both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts (though their loyalties differ). Her birthright and royal blood give her the power to reign over the Keepers of the Four Treasures. She sometimes acts as a Keeper as well. See *Keeper. (See also *Four Treasures in Faery Glossary).

**Spriggan:** A species of enormous Fae frogs from the Unseelie Court. Can expand five times their size by merely sucking in more air. Intelligent, with slight speech impediments caused by their incredibly long tongues.

**Sprite:** A dot of light. Sometimes mistaken for fireflies...incredibly strong ones.

**Tatty Bogle:** A golem who takes the form of a scarecrow that moves. Usually controlled by a wizard or a witch. See *Golem.

**The Three:** Dub, Mell and Dubros of the Fomorian race. Cruel soldiers sent after the royal Unseelie family when their mother betrayed the Seelie Courts. See *Fomorian.

**Tisiphone:** Spider lady who takes her vengeance on any doers of crimes or against those otherwise related to said crimes (be they family of criminal, victim or no).

**Trolls:** Terrible Fae beasts who guard portals and bridges from the mortal world that lead to the Sidhe. Cursed descendants of the Fomorian race. Jaws unhinge to show razor sharp teeth. Snack on human flesh. Easily identified by glowing blue eyes.

**The Twelve** Also known as the High Court. Judges and nobles working directly under the Fomorians. Their job consists of exacting justice against those who defy the seven rules of the faery kingdom, be they mortal or immortal. Their numbers include nobles from the races of: *Spriggan, *Ogre, *Dones d'aigua, *Wolf, *Leprechaun, *Urisk, *Nymph, *Sprite, *Vilas, *Brag, * Cuimilt, *Vilas. Led by Elatha the *Fomorian.

**Unicorns:** Horses with one horn protruding from the forehead. This horn holds great power. Too pure to exist in the Sidhe. Usually come in white.

**Unseelie Court:** A Fae belonging to one of the two royal courts in the *Sidhe (see Faery Glossary). The uninformed generally describe the Unseelie Court as the 'bad' court.

**Urisk:** Half goat, half Fae male. Patches of hair spread over its wrinkled emaciated body. Oversized head, covered in goose feathers. Usually travels through the soil in farmland, though have adjusted to modern cities and now travel through cement and wooden floors. Urisks also serve as personal guardians.

**Vampire:** Well-dressed, cursed race of the Fae, descended from hags, cursed to be a part of the *Ialtóg family. After draining a Seelie noble of all its powers in a land war, vampires were cursed to live off mortal blood—the iron of which would keep them grounded to the mortal world and banished from the Sidhe, never to return.

**Vines** : Servants to the owner of the beanstalk. Attentive hosts to unexpected guests.

**Vilas:** Guardian Fae over bodies of water and forests. Tall, overly masculine and/or overly feminine according to gender. Vivid eyes. If victim spies them dancing, he or she will get caught in the Vilas' arms and be forced to dance to death.

**Wraith:** A Fae who takes on the form of someone who has died, uses this form to gain trust, trick, and otherwise take advantage of their victim. See *Doppelganger.

**Wagle** : Wrinkled male Fae with crooked legs. Lives in the fireplace. Bandage wrapped around chin to keep back the toothache.

**Wichtln:** Fae males involved in numerous pranks throughout the house. Mortals generally never catch sight of them, but they resemble gnomes in form, stature, and clothing styles. Placating the creatures will irritate them and force them to move away.

**Witch:** A female mortal who steals faery magic. Can also be used as a derogatory term for a female Fae who steals magic. Ancient witches were known as priestesses (when mortal) or *Hags (when Fae). See also *Wizard and *Scientist.

**Wizards:** Male mortal who steals faery magic. Ancient wizards were known as druids. See also *Witch and *Scientist.

**Wolves:** Minions, flunkies, etc. for Queen Onagh of the Unseelie Court. Their work is never appreciated; they hang around Faery portals looking for fast food. Specific wolves of note are Octavius, the leader of the wolves (burnt and charred down one side of his body), Caesar, his loyal, gray, fluffy follower (with a penchant for gambling), and Augustus, a glasses-wearing poet (of considerable talent).

# Faery Glossary of Terms in Twisted Tales

(Also listed on www.stephanie-fowers.com)

**3** : A significant number in the Sidhe. All meaningful magic comes in threes; seen often in *Faerytales (three pigs, three bears, three wishes).

**4** : A significant number in the Sidhe: Four *Keepers, Four corners of the Sidhe, Four Seasons, *Four Cities, *Four Treasures, Four princesses.

**7** : Seven days of the week. Signals completion. Seven rules in the Sidhe for Fae, seven rules in the Sidhe for Mortals.

**12:** A significant number in the Sidhe. Represents midnight, twelve hours of the day, twelve divisions in the Sidhe, twelve months, and the *Twelve in the High Courts.

**16:** A significant birthday in the Sidhe. Majority of female princesses in faerytales have great adventures and misadventures during their sixteenth year. A cursed and enchanted time.

**After Midnight:** When the clock strikes twelve. In the mortal world, after midnight is when the Fae's power is at its weakest. It is a time for breaking curses and spells. See *Midnight.

**Apples:** Faery food, representing forgetfulness, rebellion, disloyalty. Forbidden for mortals because it ties them indefinitely to the Sidhe. A favorite magic amongst *Hags (see list of creatures).

**Beanstalk** : Faery prison for Fae who commit serious crimes. (See *Dryad on list of creatures).

**Black Forest:** A deep forest in the center of the four cities and four corners of the Sidhe, on the edge of Crystal Lake. Holds Nymphs and other highly dangerous Unseelie Creatures. Precaution necessary.

**Bloodlines:** A faery or half mortal who carries the *Core Powers inherited from its magical parentage. Only Fae and half mortals of the correct bloodlines can perform certain tasks. See *Prince Charming.

**Brideag:** Works as a Celtic voodoo doll, made up of straw.

**Cats:** Guardians of the mortal world. Pets of *Wizards and *Witches (see List of Creatures). Faeries don't trust them for good reason.

**Clothing Transformation Spell:** Perfect for a faery who needs a good change of clothes. Works the same as hair transformation. See *Fringe Power.

**Core power:** One of the three powers that the Fae possess. Like skin color to a mortal, this power is genetic. Examples include shapeshifting, royal blood, etc. This power is inherited at birth and stays with the faery until its death. See *Powers.

**Crowns** : Can only be worn by a *Sovereign or *Keeper. Also known as Circlet or tiara. Holds powerful magic.

**Counter-Spells:** Fae use it only in extreme cases when a malevolent faery casts a curse, spell, or enchantment on intended victim. Must rhyme. Possibility of unintended consequences.

**Cup of Dagda.** _"Dagda: Cup of Emerald Hue; Spills o'er and heals: Undying Youth."_ One of the *Four Treasures, protected by a *Keeper in the city of *Murias in the west, ruled over by a *Sovereign. Stolen by the *Otherworldly (List of Creatures).

**Crystals** : Magical insulators. Faery powers, spells, curses, and faeries can be held in hollowed out crystal vials, so as not to harm the user and to safely store the magic.

**Crystal Lake:** The lake between *Findias and *Falias on the edge of the *Black Forest. ***** Merrow swim the swampy, soupy depths (see List of Creatures). Full of seaweed. All faery-kind agree, not a fitting name.

**Curses** : Spells, banishments, disabilities meant to harm or control the victim. Though usually the work of a malicious Faery, some are performed on accident or to fulfill a prophecy. Usually must rhyme.

**Dancing:** Faeries can dance forever. When a mortal is caught in the arms of a faery in a dance, it is possible for the faery to dance the mortal to death. Time speeds up and mortals starve to death. Some faery races, like *Vilas, (see List of Creatures), are more prone to abuse of this power.

**Dimples** : Faery marks on a mortal's cheeks where a faery kisses it.

**Dreams:** Faeries take dreams very seriously; it is destiny communicating to your subconscious, the body's inner power. Besides love, it is the closest mortals have to magic.

**Druids:** The first wizards and witches who stole magic from the Fae.

**Enchanted Jewelry:** Also known as *Talisman, Amulet, Charm. Used by the Fae to hold certain powers that transfer to the wearer. Spells and/or curses can be held in certain jewelry. The powers are retained by means of runes and/or the names etched into the magical properties. The jewelry then holds part of the spell-caster's essence. See also *Medallion. Vulgar imitations come in the form of *Snáth den saol wrapped crudely through jewelry to create similar results with stolen power.

**Enchantment:** Faery slang for haunted, though in other cases, it is a term for when a being is a recipient of a faery spell that may or may not be good, depending on the faeries' intentions.

**Enchantment Melody:** "Twinkle, twinkle little star" is an example of a melody that has a magical influence on the hearer; this one has a forgetful effect. These songs influence strong emotions that control the subject.

**Faery Dust** : Sprite Dust cast into the eyes to blind the user from strong spells that overcome the senses.

**Faery Food** : Unnecessary for Faery survival; an indulgence. If outsiders to the Sidhe partake of this faery food, they are inseparably connected to the Sidhe and its powers.

**Faery Hunter Guide:** A guide constructed by *The Cursed, *Scientists, and *Skinwalkers to fight faeries, using the Fae's strengths and weaknesses against them.

**Faery laughs:** A Fringe Power used to cause emotion in the hearer: terrifies, soothes, encourages, discourages.

**Faery Locks:** Tangled hair caused by faeries in the night. Also known as bed hair.

**Faery Marked:** Birth marks, birth defects, freckles, dimples: any mark caused by faeries that influence the skin.

**Faery Masquerade:** These parties are a favorite amongst faeries. It is the preferred way to mingle the Seelie Courts with the Unseelie Courts to avoid disruptions and clan wars during important ceremonies where all Fae citizens must attend for magical and legal purposes. Favorite materials for masks include the usual lace, beads, chains, spikes, thorns, leaves, flowers, and horns. More unusual decorations consist of flapping butterfly wings, Cyclops eyeballs centered on the forehead, growling fox fur, beating hearts, captured stars, and bat wings with no eyeholes. It isn't unusual for some Faery faces to be confused as masks.

**Faery Music:** Hypnotizes, entrances, and puts the hearer in a daze where time is lost.

**Faery Ring:** Darker grass making a ring on dead grass, a portal caused by faeries to travel from the mortal world to the Sidhe. All stars must be aligned for it to work.

**Faerytales** : Prophecies passed down from druids, the stories of which have traveled over the continents of the mortal world and are collected by the *Cursed into a book of faerytales. They are forbidden in the Sidhe because when opened there, the pages fill with actual events as they happen. Prophecies work in cycles; as the story is fulfilled, it begins again (like a cliché with its own twist). Also known as bedtime stories.

**Faery Time:** Time moves more slowly in the Sidhe than it does in the mortal world; it moves erratically, is difficult to predict. Time is marked by cloud drifts and star movements—though a general rule of thumb is that three months in the Otherworld can be estimated to a day in the Sidhe. Though time, like midnight, can be delayed. Certain faery Holidays coincide with mortal ones.

**Falias.** There are four cities in the Sidhe. Falias is the capital in the mountains located in the north. It sustains the *Stone of Fal, and serves as the headquarters of the ruling court, be that Seelie or Unseelie, depending on the Sovereign in power. See *Four Cities.

**Fate:** Destiny caught up in the pages of the faerytales. The Norn hold the life and fates of Fae and mortal alike in their claw-like hands. See *Norn (list of creatures).

**Fey stone:** An enchanted stone that resembles a hand mirror or a baby rattle. Depending on the connection between the giver and the receiver (and the levels of *Sensitivity), the reflection on the face of it displays what the one who gifted the stone wants the receiver to see and/or what the giver sees. Time and/or distance from the giver to the receiver affect its power. The greater the time and distance, the more power the giver has over it. In the absence of this separation and when in the Sidhe, the receiver may see what they wish to see, instead of the other way around. Under these same conditions and in places where time moves slower, the stone is rendered useless between giver and receiver. Also known as Swirly toy, Rattle, and Mirror.

**Findias** : There are four cities in the Sidhe. Findias is the capital set in a land pitted with craters, sands, and lava, located in the south. It sustains the *Sword of Nuadha. It is a popular hangout for Unseelie Creatures. See *Four Cities.

**Firstborn:** In a typical Fae family, this is the one who inherits certain *Core Powers passed down from a long line of magic users. In royalty, it is the one who inherits the power of sovereignty.

**Flair:** A power reserved for a *Keeper (see list of creatures). The ability to recreate one of the four elements: fire, water, air, earth.

**Four Treasures** : These treasures are the lifeblood of the faery kingdom; where all magic and power originates that sustains and nourishes all faery kind, without which, the faery kingdom and all of its inhabitants would perish. Only a *Keeper or someone of the royal *bloodline can handle the Four Treasures and survive. Keepers hold the right to work the power found within a treasure. See also *Stone of Fal, *Cup of Dagda, *Spear of Lugh, *Sword of Nuadha, *Magic Deprivation.

**Four Cities.** Capital cities in the Sidhe on the four corners of the island. Each of them is ruled by a Keeper Princess, each represents a different element and protects one of the *Four Treasures: See *Falias, *Findias, *Gorias, *Murias

**Fringe Power:** One of the three powers that the Fae possess. It's extra power that can be gained by curses, spells, enchantments. Shed or worn as easily as clothes. See *Powers.

**Frogs' breath:** Magical substance that duplicates one of the four elements of fire, water, earth, and air without the nasty repercussions; an illusion that creates a real physical response in the user. When duplicating fire, it makes the perfect campfire to sleep on...though a bit stinky.

**Gawain:** Unseelie Prince raised in the Seelie Court by adoptive parents.

**Geis:** A sacred vow made from and/or to a faery. The promise is more powerful when both hands are placed on either side of the face when the vow is spoken. If broken, the face will scar where the hands have touched. A broken promise can cause weakness, deformity, and sometimes death.

**Gold** : Symbolizes magic in faerytales.

**Gorias:** There are four cities in the Sidhe. Gorias is the capital set in the kingdom made up of islands of clouds floating through the skies, located in the east. It sustains the *Spear of Lugh. See *Four Cities.

**Half mortal/half Fae:** Once in a blue moon, a faery and a mortal will fall in love. When this happens, the subsequent children will either carry the characteristics of both parents or just the one. When carrying the characteristics of both parents, this half mortal can be more powerful than a full Fae since they are immune to certain faery weaknesses.

**Hair:** Certain species of faeries keep their core powers and virtues in their hair. The stronger the hair, the stronger the powers and virtues held within it. See *scissors in Faery Hunter glossary.

**Healing:** Some Fae have the ability to heal. However, no faery has been known to bring a mortal or another Fae back from the dead. See *Tears.

**Holidays:** Also known as Day Alignments when the veils between the Sidhe and the mortal world are at their thinnest and portals are more easily opened. These specific celebratory rituals and religious holidays are observed in both the Sidhe and the mortal world at simultaneous times, i.e.; Midsummer's Eve, Solstice, Brigid's Day, Hallow's Eve. Beltane Day, Yule. See *Time.

**Iron:** Faeries need a connection to the Sidhe through means of the *Four Treasures. Iron breaks that connection and grounds faeries to the Mortal world by blocking their powers. Touching iron is quite painful for the Fae. When in contact, it causes heat and sparks as reaction. Loss of powers depends on intensity and longevity of iron contact. Iron is fatal to the *Stars, and signals the end chain of fusion. It makes up the core of the mortal world, and acts as a vacuum, pulling on Fae power and consuming it. See *Spindle, *Spinning Wheel, *Four Treasures, and the *Faery Hunter Guide.

**Keepers:** *Princesses, guardians, and workers of one or more of the *Four Treasures in the Sidhe. See *Stone of Fal, *Sword of Dagda, *Spear of Lugh, *Wand of Nuadha. Original princesses, who were also keepers, were named *Niamh, *Ratis, *Cailleach, *Onagh (see List of Creatures). No one but those with the correct *Bloodline can touch the treasures and live.

**Kisses:** A dangerous practice, especially from faery to mortal. Depending on the faery's intentions, results can be disastrous or beneficial. If the faery's intentions are noble, it works like a sixth sense, bestowing visions, foretelling, healing, courage, power, protection and/or faery sight. If intentions are malicious, kisses may cause banishment, curses, enchantments, deformities, and even death. Kisses from a *Leannan Sith or someone of the correct *Bloodline, can break a *Curse, *Enchantment or *Counterspell, but only in accordance to the related prophecy.

**Last breath:** Glue sealing spirit to body (in Mortal and Fae).

**Leannan Sith:** Also known as faery sweetheart, soul mate, or the other half between a male and a female faery. It is the natural counterpart, like two pieces of a broken soul reconnected. In order to become man and wife, a proper ceremony will make the union official, but no magic words like _I do_ need seal the two together, but a kiss where magic is exchanged. It is binding and impossible to break without nasty repercussions to both parties. Finding a Leannan Sith is a rare occurrence, even with the Fae. It sometimes is discovered through a touch, a kiss, or the breaking of a curse or enchantment.

**Loom:** A device used to make up clothes made up of *Snáth den saol. Weaves clothes instantaneously. The Emperor's New Clothes were the result of such a magical heirloom.

**Love:** Love is the closest thing mortals have to magic. It is the most powerful magic with both Fae and mortals, and is the least understood. Fae and mortals must never fall in love with each other. It is the last and most important law of the Sidhe. It complicates things, might throw the Sidhe in the middle of a crown war. See *Leannan Sith.

**Love potion:** Causes enhanced feelings that already exist at a minor level; dangerous in the wrong hands.

**Magic beans:** The keys to open the portal from the mortal world to the Sidhe through the means of a beanstalk.

**Magic deprivation:** When cut off from the power of the *Four Treasures, a Fae's body undergoes sickness, and if not treated, eventually suffers death. The Fae's power source depletes as follows: Fringe, Vitals, followed closely by the Core. See *Core, *Fringe, *Vital, and *Power.

**Marriage:** Similar to a *Geis. A powerful spell in the Sidhe binding two individual souls together as man and wife. There is no way to undo this spell without serious psychological and physical repercussions, consequences more dangerous than breaking a *Geis. Both participants must be in accordance when making this vow. If the participants are too young to marry at the time of contract, it acts as a long betrothal until they are of age.

**Marriage spell:** In order to marry, a bright shell is placed over the bride's heart, along with a straw wand. She chants the spell and the male repeats it. The ceremony is then sealed with an agreement of marriage by means of three kisses stolen, three kisses returned. If it is not, the marriage spell remains on both the male and female for a full season until it loses its power. Before this time, the male or female may finish the ceremony with another party. The marriage spell is not necessary when a faery finds their *Leannan Sith, though a civil ceremony before the High Court is still required.

**Matriarchal rule:** Females carry most of the magic in the Sidhe, and therefore they rule after their Sovereign Powers are sealed to them by their husbands after a proper *Marriage Spell.

**Medallion:** Worn close to the heart, so that its magical properties are more closely attuned with the *Core powers of the wearer. See also *Enchanted Jewelry. Also known as *Talisman.

**Memories:** Directly linked to a Faery's *Core power. The more a faery remembers of his or her present life, pre-life, and destiny, the more power he or she gains. See also *Names.

**Midnight:** In the mortal world, midnight is when the Fae's powers are at their peak. It is a dangerous time. See *After Midnight.

**Milk:** Sprites are attracted to, and devoted to, milk. They hardly drink it, but use it to bathe. See *Faery food.

**Mirrors:** The means of communication and transportation in the Sidhe, though only a faery with the *Core power to manipulate the mirror, or one who receives permission from the former through a special spell, has this ability. To communicate spells through the mirror, one must speak backwards through it. Smashing mirrors to avoid confrontation and/or trap a faery is a common practice among *Wizards, *Witches, *Scientists.

**Mirror of Reason:** Located in the Sidhe in the City of Falias. Depending on the ruling Sovereign and the season that results from it, the Mirror of Reason may be a crystal clear lake or a block of ice, both of which mirror true reflections (after the correct spells).

**Murias:** There are four cities in the Sidhe. Murias is the capital flooded with streams and canals that run into the sea. Mermaids swim through its waters. A canal encircles the town square where faeries from the four corners of the Sidhe meet to discuss politics. When trapped by this flowing water, it becomes neutral ground where faeries are unable to cast spells should tempers arise. Murias sustains the *Cup of Dagda. See *Four Cities.

**Names:** Faeries may be summoned by the use of their name, the exact syllables and pronunciation of which acts like a spell. Faeries guard their names from misuse. If the invoker is prepared, they may then banish, hurt, control, trap, or bind said faery. However, calling a faery can be a dangerous practice, for the faery may take its revenge on the invoker for calling its name in vain, especially when more powerful than the user. Names are also significant to a Fae's *Memories.

**Nymph kisses:** A tube of magical lotion rubbed into the skin of a faery and its captive creates a connection between them, which causes a glowing, hot sensation in the skin. It alerts the faery when the captive wanders too far by stinging the infected skin and turning it cold and white.

**Nymph sneezes:** When blown into the face, it makes the mind susceptible to suggestion.

**The Otherworld:** Known as the mortal world inhabited by humans. See *Otherworldly (in List of Creatures).

**Portals:** A dimension between the mortal world and the Sidhe, for the purpose of traveling between the two worlds. Example of portals include; *Beanstalks, *tree knots, *Faery Rings, *Rainbows, and certain forms of *Sleep. Portals are usually guarded by *Trolls in the mortal world and *Keepers in the Sidhe (see List of Creatures).

**Power of the Cuimilt** : A *Core Power held by certain species of nobility that is used to peel the skin off animals, mortals, and Fae with a mere touch of the hand. See *Cuimilt, *Skinwalkers (in List of Creatures).

**Powers** : The Fae possess three powers that make up their being. See *Core Power, *Fringe Power, *Vital Power. Also see *Magic Deprivation.

**Pricked by a spindle:** Blood triggers the activation of certain spells. If an item is cursed, then blood will set off a specific order of events. See *Curse, *Spindle. See also *Blood (in Faery Hunter Guide).

**Prince Charming:** A prince holds the *Core Power to seal his wife's power as *Sovereign over the Sidhe and as a *Keeper (see List of Creatures) of one or all *Four Treasures by means of a *Marriage Spell. He is consort to a *Princess, possibly her *Leannan Sith (though not necessarily). He need only be a royal from the correct *Bloodline. There exist documented cases of princes being harvested for powers and bloodlines.

**Princess:** Consort to a prince. If succession falls to her, within each princess lies the royal *Bloodlines to become a *Sovereign to the Sidhe and a *Keeper (List of Creatures) of one or all *Four Treasures. Also see *Matriarchal Rule.

**Promise:** A promise to a Fae is the third law of the Sidhe that mortals must never break. See *Geis.

**Prophecies:** Fate and Destiny are natural occurrences in the Sidhe. See *Faerytales.

**Rainbows:** Leprechauns use them as a means of travel through one dimension to another. See also *Leprechauns (List of Creatures).

**Reflections:** Mirrors are enchanted. Mortals do not have reflections in the Sidhe, and Fae do not have reflections in the mortal world. Exceptions are *Changelings (List of Creatures), whose bodies have adjusted to the human world, and *Half-Mortals (List of Creatures) who have realized their destinies and embraced their powers in the Sidhe. See *Mirror of Reason. Specific faeries have the ability to fake their images in mirrors or are exempt. See *Shapeshifters and *Doppelgangers (List of Creatures), who carry mortal material in their membrane. Though chances are, if a faery's reflection is in a mirror in the mortal world, it means it is coming through.

**Riastrad:** A transformation of the body to a beast when in the throes of great anger. See *Buggar (List of Creatures).

**Sacred Territory:** Never trespass the sacred territory of the Faeries; it will place the mortal in the fae's power. Often referred to as the *Sidhe.

**Saffron:** A favorite among certain species of Faery. See *Faery Food.

**Seasonal Control:** Certain *Sovereigns and *Keepers also have *Core powers over seasons and weather. It is used to fight enemies and symbolizes conquered territory (snow, heat, etc). Can be controlled (unless in times of a *Curse).

**Seelie:** One of the two royal courts in the *Sidhe. Usually described as the 'good' court.

**Sensitivity:** A *Core Power used for visions, foretelling, and sensing another's emotions, thoughts, feelings, and essence.

**Sidhe:** The realm faeries inhabit in an alternate dimension from the mortal world.

**Sixteenth birthday:** In faerytales and prophecies, it is a very significant birthday for princesses and girls in rags. See *16.

**Shapeshifting:** The means of transforming from one shape to another by using a *Core Power inherited from the proper *bloodlines. See *Buggar, *Doppelganger, *Fylgia, *Brag (List of Creatures).

**Shoes:** An iconic symbol in faerytales, most often in the form of slippers. Worn by a sovereign. Also used to find true love through a spell.

**Sleep:** Depending on the form of sleep, it might serve as a means to an alternate dimension between one world to another, a time to see visions and foretell the future, or to strengthen one's *Powers.

**Snáth den saol:** Yarn of life. Song lines, energy lines, dragon lines all carry the energy through the body. This is a humans' mortal coil and/or the essence of a Faery. See *Core, *Fringe, *Vital powers. The *Norn (List of creatures) gather it on a *Spinning Wheel, *Spindle or by the clever workings of their hands. It is light or dark (with colors ranging in between) depending on the evil or good intents of the captured essence.

**Sovereign:** She is the rightful ruler of the Sidhe of both the *Seelie and *Unseelie Courts (though their manner of service to the queen differs). Her birthright and *Bloodlines give the sovereign the power to reign over the *Keepers (List of Creatures) and act as a keeper over the *Four Treasures.

**Spear of Lugh:** _"Wand that Bleeds Fire and Ice. No Harm Sustains; nor Enemy Arise."_ One of the *Four Treasures. Protected by a *Keeper in the city of *Gorias in the east, ruled over by a *Sovereign. Stolen by the *Otherworldly (List of Creatures). Known as a wand. See also *Wand Manipulation.

**Spells:** Used as a weapon, to fulfill a prophecy, to bless or to curse. Fueled by *Fringe Power, perfected by study and practice. Usually has to rhyme.

**Spell of forgetfulness:** Powerful, complicated spell crafted through *Fringe Power using the victim's personal belongings and intimate memories. Erases the victim's existence in the minds of those who knew him or her. Easily messed up from lack of experience.

**Spindle:** _"Spindel, Spindel, geh' du aus, bring den Freier in mein Haus."_ The *Norn (List of Creatures) are the original owners of the spindle. It gathers the *Snáth den saol.

**Spinning Wheel:** A spinning wheel is a way to gather the *Snáth den saol quicker and works more efficiently than a spindle. Spindles can be attached to a spinning wheel as a separate piece. After stealing the spindle, the *Otherworldly (List of Creatures) designed a spinning wheel of epic proportions. *Iron imbedded in the device acts as a magical magnet to draw out the *Power from the victim without transforming the *snath into thread. Then *Crystals fitted into the wheel act as an insulator to capture the faery's essence into a gaseous, liquid form, and blocks the iron from consuming its power. The magic caught in the crystals can then be ingested. After many horrific experiments, the Otherworldly perfected the spinning wheel to suck any faery dry of its power.

**Star:** Another name for Faeries, also where faery souls are believed to ascend after death.

**Stone of Fal** : _"Stone of Visions, cries out in Dream. Future of Legions, restores our Queen."_ One of the *Four Treasures. Protected by a *Keeper in the city of *Falias in the north, ruled over by a *Sovereign. The treasure is a multicolored stone, but reflects like a mirror and cries out under the true sovereign. If not under the true sovereign, it kills anyone with the temerity to look into its mirror. The stone, though heavy, can be relocated by its Keeper (through means of magic).

**Sugar:** A favorite among faeries. See *Faery food.

**Sunrise:** The beginning of certain spells. Symbolism of Rebirth. Many Fae babies are born at sunrise.

**Sunset:** The end of certain spells. Symbolism of death. Many Fae die at sunset.

**Sword of Nuadha:** _"Nuada: Sword of Glass and Light. Destroys Illusion; n'er soul can Fight."_ One of the *Four Treasures. Protected by a *Keeper in the city of *Findias in the south, ruled over by a *Sovereign. When wielded by a Keeper, no Fae can stand against it.

**Talisman:** See *Enchanted Jewelry, *Medallion.

**Tears:** Tears carry the Fae's *Core power, and when mingled with love, may work as a healing spell. See also *Healing, *Love, *Hair.

**Thank you:** Words are powerful to the Fae and used in spells and incantations. Thank-you signals the fulfillment of a deal or bargain, and can actually be painful in the ears of most Fae species.

**Thorns:** A formidable barrier used by faeries to capture their enemies.

**Treasure:** Fae may be controlled by treasure—either through curses or natural greed. Some species of Dragon, and the race of Leprechauns, are especially susceptible. Because of this, treasure is considered unlucky among the Fae, especially treasure carrying runes with charms against magic. See *Four Treasures. Also see *Leprechauns and *Dragons (List of Creatures).

**Tree knots:** Certain charmed individuals can look through these peepholes from the mortal world to see to the other dimension that is the *Sidhe. Little men, known as gnomes, guard the holes and are known to be quite grumpy. If one is small enough, one can use it as a portal to the Sidhe. See *Portals. See also *Gnomes (List of Creatures).

**Tributes:** At the war's end, a conquering race in the Sidhe may require the defeated race to pay a tribute. Depending on the fierceness of the conquerors, it may range from food tributes to firstborn tributes. *See Fomorian (List of Creatures).

**Twilight:** When the barriers between the mortal world and the Sidhe are the thinnest; portals are easiest to trespass at this time. Faery attacks are also more prevalent.

**Unseelie:** One of the two royal courts in the *Sidhe. Usually described as the 'bad' court.

**Vital Power:** One of the three powers that the Fae possess. Like food, water, and air to humans, vital powers keep the Fae nourished and alive. See *Powers.

**Wand Manipulation:** A worker of a wand must use a series of technical patterns and motions in order to properly operate the tool. Skills can only be attained through proper training. Beginners can work simple spells by crudely pointing the wand at the subject and chanting a *Spell. See also *Spear of Lugh.

**Wishes:** Wishes are dangerous and work similarly to *Spells. Wishes must never be vague, the wording simple and precise so it cannot be misconstrued. Wishes cannot interfere with natural or unnatural laws. They cannot be used to undo *Spells, *Curses, or *Prophecies, but may be used to fulfill them (if worded cleverly).

*For FAERY GLOSSARY OF TERMS and LIST OF CREATURES, See www.stephanie-fowers.com

# MAP OF THE SIDHE

