Authors: Kaye Thornbrugh
For a moment, he was u
nsure of what to do. Then he wrapped
his arms around her and held her firmly against him, remembering that, though his Sight was strong enough to make her eyes water, Alice had never been afraid to touch him. There was something comforting about that. It helped remind him that he was human.
* * *
The four of them stood in a cluster by the front door in the shop. Lee, Nasser and Filo wore coats and gloves—it had started to snow overnight, and the city was frosted in snow like damp icing. Alice stood with hooded eyes, her a
rms crossed
. She was still holding herself gingerly, keeping weight off her ankle.
“If you’re not back i
n two days,” she announced,
“then I’m coming after you.
Don’t bother telling me not to.
”
Filo shook his head. “If we’re not back in two days,
it won’t
matter.”
Alice shrugged. Then she stepped forward and gave Nasser a brief, tigh
t hug, which he returned. S
he turned to Lee and told her firmly, “Keep on your toes. Listen to Nasser and Filo. They know better than you.”
Lee
squirmed a bit under the intensity of Alice’s gaze.
“I’ll do my best.”
At that, Alice smiled gently and touched Lee’s arm. “You’ll do all right, Lee. You’re pretty scrappy
…
for a normal.”
With a little laugh, Lee returned Alice’s smile and followed the boys into the
night.
By Night
As they walked through the deserted streets, Lee felt as if the city had changed, and she had changed with it. Every shadow seemed menacing and alive. Every window flashed in the streetlamps like a curious eye. Even the muted crunch of their feet in the thin la
yer of snow sounded like
incantations
. There was something dark and charged and magical in the air.
“Where are we going?” Lee asked quietly, her b
reath clouding
.
“To the park,” Nasser said. “I know a pond that’ll work perfectly.”
“Perfectly for what?”
“You’ll see.”
They walked on in silence for some time, entering the park through the south entrance and working their way along the winding paths. Finally, they stopped by a large pond lined with bare-branched trees. The water was dark and still, not yet frozen; moonlight shimmered on its surface. Nasser and Filo stood at the edge of the pond.
“Come here,” Filo said, motioning Lee closer and
pulling a short
knife from his pocket
. Gripping the hilt
in his right hand, he drew the blade across his left palm. He didn’t flinch.
Lee watched with morbid fascination as a thick lin
e of dark red blood welled up.
Filo
let the blood flow over his fingers and drip
into the water. Wordlessly, Filo passed Nasser the knife. Nasser cut his hand
and held it over the water,
just as Filo had done.
“What are you doing?” Lee whispered.
“
This spell,” Filo explained, “
lets us c
onnect two bodies of water
and travel between them. But it only works if you giv
e something of yourself
. In this case,
blood.”
Nasser held the knife out to her.
Lee hesitated. The edge of the blade was slick with blood.
Finally, she took the knife. Standing there with bloody hands, the boys made it look as if they’d sliced themselves open a hundred times before. They made it look painless. She held her breath and slid the blade quickly across her palm, wincing as it bit into her skin. And then she was bleeding, the blood running over her fingers and spattering onto the surface of the water. She returned the knife to Filo, who wiped it on his pant leg and pocketed it.
From his pocket, Filo withdrew an oval-shaped white stone, a length of string and a packet of powder. Filo shook the powder into his uninjured palm—it
shimmered
indigo in the moonlight—closed
his eyes, and exhaled. B
lue light filled his palm, illuminating the powder, which he then scattered across the pond’s surface. The specks of powder dissolved into the water, making the pond glow an eerie electric blue, the same color as Filo’s eyes. Then Filo tied the string tightly around the stone.
Lee had to ask.
“What are you doing?”
“See for yourself.” He handed
her the stone and string. “Toss that stone into the water and tell me when you feel it hit the bottom.”
“Okay.” Holding the other end of the long string, she tossed the
stone into the pond. It sank. And sank. And sank. Finally, the string was taut—but the stone had not reached the bottom of the pond. It felt as if it were dangling at the end. Lee turned to Filo with wide eyes.
“Exactly,” he said, taking the string from her and pulling the stone back up. “
That’s how you know if it worked.
Nasser, you go first. Lee, watch this. You’re next.”
Nasser gave Lee a small smile, then waded into the pond. He took a few steps—and disappeared
under the black water
, leaving only a splash a
nd ripples in his wake
. Lee gaped.
“Don’t sweat it
,” Filo assured her,
nudging her forward. “It’s
like jumping into a pool. It doesn’t hurt. You’re underwater for a few seconds, and then you surface on the other side.”
“I don’t know
…
”
“No choice, Lee. Here, just take a deep breath, hold your nose and close your eyes. It only takes a second. Get moving.”
She did as he instructed,
inhaling
deeply and clamping her fingers over her
nose. Cautiously, she waded into the
pond
, grimacing at the intense cold.
She glanced at Filo, who nodded encouragingly. “Another step,” he said. “Get ready.”
Nodding, she squeezed her eyes shut and took another step. Then the ground beneath her seemed to disappear and she felt herself falling.
* * *
In her surprise, Lee nearly took a breath, but managed to stop herself. She wasn’t so much swimming as being
sucked
along a rapid current. Frigid water swirled around her. She opened her eye
s and saw only blackness
, cold water burning against her eyes.
Panic rose in her chest. No light came from anywhere. When was she supposed to surface? How?
Her heart pounded. She desperately needed a breath. But she could be miles underground for all she knew, rushing through some magical river.
Above her, a silvery light
glimmered
. Lee kicked her legs
hard
, trying to propel herself toward the light—
And she broke the surface like a cork from a champagne bottle, gasping for breath. She treaded water for a moment as she looked around—there was nothing to stand on. She was in a large pond in a field mostly covered in brown weeds. On one side, wooden telephone poles stood against the sky. On the other side, an empty highway stretched into the distance.
“You made it!” Nasser crouched beside the pond, mysteriously dry. He extended a hand to help her as she paddled toward
him
. “How was it?”
“
Interesting
,” Lee said, shivering. “How are you—?”
Before she could finish
, Nasser had gathered two handfuls of silvery energy and placed his hands on her arm. Warmth spread through her and she felt her
sleeve drying. “Now you try.”
S
he filled her palms with energy—sparkling green, glowing in the predawn light—
then ran her hands through her hair, feeling it dry as she touched it.
She repeated the process, drying her shirt and pants.
Just as she started sorting through the dampened objects inside her backpack
, Fi
lo surfaced
with a sudden violent splash
. He was
floundering, disappearing beneath the water, then bobbing back up.
“Nasser—” he gasped. “Nasser—”
He rushed to the pond, grabbed Filo by his shirt collar, and hauled him ou
t of the water.
Filo spat out water and pushed his dark hair from his eyes.
“Can’t you swim?” Lee asked
, perplexed
.
Filo just glared at her and started to dry himself off.
They entered Summerhill as dawn began coloring the sky. Pink light threaded through the steely clouds, helping to light their way.
As they
passed
through the silent town, Lee couldn’t help but be reminded of Bluewood.
Summerhill
had the same sleepy atmosphere, especially when compared to the harsh, bustling Bridgestone. They passed a supermarket, an old brick elementary school, a barber shop, and a tiny Chinese restaurant.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Nasser asked Filo eventually.
Filo shrugged. “I think so.”
Lee kept her eyes peeled as they continued, turning here and there, according to Filo’s uncertain directions. Finally they found themselves facing a gravel road mar
ked by a sign:
Rosebud Circle
.
The road beyond was lined with little
pastel-colored
houses, dusted with snow.
“Think this is it?” Nasser asked.
“Unless there’s more than o
ne Rosebud
Circle
.” Filo started
down the road
, boots crunching softly in the gravel
. Lee and Nasser followed closely behind.
A white shape darted across the road. Lee jumped, but immediately felt foolish when she realized it was just a
small calico
cat.
The cat stopped at the edge of the road, watching them wari
ly, ears pricked
. Filo took a small, cautious step toward the cat, speaking quietly in Old Faerie. His words were rhythmic, soothing, and the cat seemed to relax.
Still speaking, Filo continued
to slowly approach
the cat, and eventually crouched beside it. He extended his hand and
let
the cat
sniff it. The cat
rumbled in its chest
, tail twitching
. Filo nodded and said something else.
Meowing, the
cat trotted away into the bushes.
“Well,” Filo announced, when the cat had gone. “This is the place.”
“How do you know?” Lee asked.
“She told me. She lives around here.”
Lee blinked. “You weren’t kidding when you said you understand everybody, were you?”
“Of course not,” he said. “Anyway, she says there have been a lot of
new
people passing through here lately. Faeries. They were all headed that way, into the field.” He pointed to the end of the road, where a brown house
ringed by barren rosebushes
stood in the shadow of a huge pine tree.
“Then that’s where we need to go,” Nasser said.
They crept
through
through
an
open fence and into the yard. Tall, ske
letal poplars lined
the yard, their limbs bare and dead-white. Lee stepped lightly over the snowy grass, which crackled underfoot.
They stopped at the edge of the lawn, where a wood-and-wire fence separated the yard from the tall, yellow grass beyond. A field stretched from the fence and into the distance, dotted with evergreens that thickened farther out, obscuring the view. Above the trees, blue mountains rose like rounded waves. Mist curled around the mountains like fantastic serpents.
Lee moved to step into the field, but Nasser caught her arm.
“Wait,” he
said
. “Look at that.”
“At what?” she asked. But he must’ve been speaking to Filo, because the dark-haired boy squinted critically at the field.
“I think you’re right,” Filo agreed. Without a word, the boys shrugged off their coats, turned them inside out, and pulled them back on.
“Right about
wha
t?
” Lee pressed.
“The grass,” Filo said simply, pointing. “It’s moving.”
“So?”
“There’s no breeze.”
He was right: The grass
was
moving, but none of the tree branches moved with it, and no wind stirred Lee’s hair.
The
swaying stalks of grass seemed
suddenly
forbidding. She looked to Nasser. “What does that mean?”