Foxheart (28 page)

“F
ox!” Quicksilver cried in shock. “What are you doing?”

Fox stood proud, not looking at her.
I'm sorry, master. I couldn't stand to let him hurt you again. I love you too much for that.

Love! This is more important than love, Fox!

You're wrong. Nothing is more important than love.

The Wolf King glared at him. “Give me the bones, dog.”

“Once I ensure my master is unhurt,” said Fox, “I'll give them to you, and gladly. But one wrong move, and I'll disappear and take them with me.”

“And leave your master to a painful death?”

Fox did not flinch. “Even so.”

The Wolf King smirked. “How touching.” The First Ones, drifting above him, also smirked. Their dark, smoky expressions perfectly mirrored the Wolf King's own. “While you inspect your beloved master, I know you won't mind if I return to my work?”

And with that, the Wolf King turned and set his white wolf upon Freja. She writhed on the icy ground, and her screams rent apart the air. Olli called for her, his voice cracking.

Fox, how could you have done this? I told you to leave!

We still have these skeletons. All is not lost.

No matter how fast we run, he'll catch up and steal them back from us!

And then, because everything was going wrong, and they might not survive whatever was about to happen—she kissed Fox's velvet ears, buried her face in the soft patch of fur between them. With him at her side, her heart beat true once more.
Fox, Fox, you stupid dog. I'll never send you away again, ever.

Quite right, you won't.

Do you have a plan?

Fox snorted.
Of course. We run. Now, while the First Ones are distracted.

Quicksilver's heart shattered, even as she knew it was the only way.
What about the others?

They'll fight for you, give us time. You know they will.

And if he catches up with us?

He won't. Not you and me. But we must hurry.

Quicksilver hesitated. She watched Olli strain toward poor Freja, unable to reach her. The rest of the coven lay crumpled on the ground, gasping and shuddering.

The white wolf's crackling arrow, half buried in Freja's chest, twisted and turned.

The other six wolves watched, their eyes bright with hunger.

The shadows of the First Ones hovered over Freja, cackling and jeering at her screams.

Quicksilver saw Bernt look toward her. Their gazes locked. He gave her one slight, small nod.

She flattened her palms against the ground and braced herself to push off and run, every muscle coiling and ready—

But then the Wolf King let out a sharp cry. His body jerked to the right, convulsed and went rigid, then collapsed in a crumpled heap. Sly Boots hurried to him, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Quicksilver's heart sank. She wanted to run, she knew she
should
run, but—

But we can't leave Boots and Ari, Fox.

The traitor and the witch hunter? You're joking.

In a flash, Quicksilver showed him everything Sly Boots had said.
I think he spoke to me. Ari. Not the Wolf King, but Ari the boy. He didn't want to hurt me.

Fox sighed.
Wonderful. This makes things more complicated.

A great, misshapen shadow fell over them. Quicksilver looked up.

“Give us the skeletons, witch,” commanded the First Ones, swirling overhead. Their bodies flickered, almost solid, and then shifted back to curling smokiness. They were so close Quicksilver could see the sheer folds of their shadowy robes, the jewels floating around their necks. One moment they had long black teeth; the next instant, their teeth dissolved to mere puffs of black smoke.
“NOW!”

The seven wolves slunk toward Quicksilver, licking their chops, their ravenous eyes trained on her.

They had abandoned the coven and their monsters lying on the cave floor—all of them seemingly dead. Sly Boots huddled by the monsters, tending to the shuddering Wolf King.

Then Olli cracked open an eye and winked at Quicksilver.

Freja, pale and bloody, clenched her fist. Her snake raised its head.

Lukaas, Aleksi, Bernt, Lumi—they all tensed, waiting. Their monsters, feigning death, twitched on the floor.

The First Ones reached toward Quicksilver, their dark hands shifting from smoke to fleshy fingers and back again.

Quicksilver looked to Olli. He nodded, once.
Go,
his determined expression seemed to say,
and good luck
.

Then he jumped to his feet and cried, “To Quicksilver!”

As one, the bruised and bloodied coven rushed at the wolves, flinging their monsters ahead of them like arrows. Pulka led the way, a churning ball of white streaked with red. Light shot out from each monster, connecting them in a furious web of power. The monsters grew in size—stronger, faster, brighter, hotter. Behind them, their witches raised their bloodied arms in unison and directed their monsters into battle.

Collective magic.

The wolves turned, ears flat, fangs bared, and pounced. Wolves and monsters collided in an explosion of light that sent sparks ricocheting through the cave. The crash shook the rocks protruding from the frozen lake; the ice itself cracked and splintered.

The First Ones shrank back from the noise and dove into the fight, weaving in and out of the fighting monsters, witches, and wolves.

Hurry!
Fox nipped Quicksilver's hand.
Now's our chance!

Quicksilver limped to Sly Boots, gritting her teeth against the pain of her bitten leg.

“Get up!” cried Sly Boots, tugging on the Wolf King's shoulders—but the Wolf King didn't move. He lay curled on the ground, covering his ears. Tears leaked from his eyes; his sweaty dark hair lay plastered to his pale skin.

“If you want to come with us, you'd better get up,” Quicksilver said harshly, yanking him by the arm.

“I can't,” he cried, his voice breaking—Ari's voice, singular and human and afraid. “They won't let me!”

A furious roar—five furious roars—exploded from the fight. The First Ones surged out of the chaos, five smoky streaks that sped across the cave, aiming right for Quicksilver.

The Wolf King shoved her away. “Go!”

Sly Boots tugged Quicksilver to the ground and threw himself over her, just as the First Ones surrounded them in darkness.

Hands grabbed Quicksilver. Teeth tore at her clothes. Cold
slipped across her skin, burning her like frostbite. Skulls butted against her own. In one moment, the First Ones felt solid; the next, they were merely shadows—dark and raging, choking her like smoke.

“Don't move, Quicksilver!” cried Sly Boots, his body shielding hers. “I've got you—”

He broke off with a pained cry.

“Give us the bones,” moaned the First Ones. “Give them to us now!”

They clawed through her clothes, grabbed Fox's pack. He yelped, pawed the ground.

“Get off him!” Quicksilver pounded on the dark arms holding Fox. Her fists met cold, clammy flesh—then a cold mist that stung like needles.

Fox's pack ripped open. The starling and ermine skeletons spilled out onto the ground. Quicksilver and Fox scrambled for the nearest one, the ermine, and dropped it safely in one of Quicksilver's cloak pockets.

But the First Ones—they hooted and howled in triumph. Five pairs of hands held the glowing red starling skeleton high in the air. Five smoky bodies danced around it, swirling faster and faster.

The Wolf King, lying on the ground at the edge of the
fighting witches and wolves, let out a low groan. His mouth opened wide. A thin ribbon of pale smoke unfurled from his gaping jaws. The smoke slithered across the ground, growing larger and darker, shifting into a torso and arms and legs, and joined its five siblings.

Then, as one, the First Ones turned and rushed low over the ground toward Quicksilver, Sly Boots, and Fox.

“Quicksilver,”
they hissed, circling faster and faster, nearer and nearer.
“You've lost. GIVE US THE ERMINE.”

Sly Boots hugged Quicksilver close, and Quicksilver curled around Fox protectively, gritting her teeth as the First Ones clawed at them all.

Six First Ones.
Quicksilver squeezed her eyes shut, buried her face in Fox's ice-crusted fur. Her nose and mouth and ears were filling with stinging, cold darkness.
Only one left. If they get the ermine skeleton, then they'll all be back. We're doomed, Fox.

The faint sounds of the wolves battling Olli's coven brought her courage, but she could hardly lift her head against the force of the swarming First Ones, much less rise to her feet and run. Someone screamed in agony—Lukaas?

“Quicksilver?” Sly Boots whispered, his hand squeezing hers so tight it hurt.

“It's all right,” she told him shakily. “We'll be all right.”
Fox, can you get us out of here?

Yes, I can,
came his calm response—too calm, Quicksilver thought. Wasn't he frightened too? Shouldn't he be feeling her own fear on top of that?
But you won't like it.

What? Why not?

A pause.
Do you trust me?

Of course I do! Whatever it is, do it now! I want to help, but I'm not sure I can—Fox, they're strangling me—I can't breathe!

You can't help. Not this time. Hold the ermine skeleton close. Don't drop it, no matter what happens. And tell Sly Boots to hold on to you and don't let go.

Quicksilver did as he asked. Then Fox licked her cheek, nuzzling her.
I'm sorry, Quicksilver. I love you. I always have.

All of a sudden Quicksilver felt a sick rush of fear. She tried to look for Fox but couldn't find him. The ermine skeleton rattled in her pocket. She clamped her hand over it, pressing it close to her chest.

Fox? What are you talking about? Where did you go?

A bright yellow light cut through the darkness, circling her and Sly Boots in a tight ring. The light was blazingly, brilliantly hot. She had to shut her eyes against it. Pain tugged at her heart,
making her gasp and choke. She sensed that the magic binding her to Fox was about to break.

But that was impossible.

A monster could not live without his witch.

Fox! Whatever you're doing, stop right now!

He did not answer. Quicksilver struggled in vain to raise her head. The light was too bright, too close, too hot. It pressed closer and closer, burning and scorching—

The First Ones and their furious cries disappeared. The only thing Quicksilver could hear was her own roaring blood. The pain in her chest was becoming too immense; she was a girl no longer. She was only this searing ache that threatened to crack her chest in two, and the feel of Sly Boots's sweaty hand, gripping hers.

She searched the chaos for Fox, with her mind and her heart, and right as the light became its brightest yet, understanding came to her in a terrible flash. It smelled and felt like Fox—a burst of understanding, an ache of apology, a warm bloom of love.

You never could control me fully, master,
came his faint, smug voice.

Quicksilver remembered, then, leaving the Shadow Fields.
How Fox had that sad, confused look about him, how he wouldn't look at her. How Anastazia had held him back to tell him something, privately.

Maybe, perhaps, to give him instructions?

Fear dropped into Quicksilver's belly like a boulder, sending a thick, queasy feeling flying up into her throat.

No. No. This could not be allowed.

He was
her
monster!

She
was the witch, and
she
gave the orders!

No!
Quicksilver thought to him, fighting with everything she had to call him back to her arms.

No, Fox! Stop it right now! You can't do this! I forbid it! Fox, listen to me. She was wrong, she didn't mean it. You don't have to do this. I'll never forgive you for it! Fox? Fox!