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"No. She is mine."
Ricky lunged. His hand went around the fae's neck, pushing her face into the rock hard enough to make me wince. She let out a shriek, flailing, her glamour slipping, hands turning claw-like as they scrabbled against the stone. The shadows whispered and swirled but stayed back. Stayed well back.
"You want us gone," Ricky said. "We want to be gone. But we are not leaving without getting what we came for, and if you don't take us to her, we'll bring a shitload of trouble down on your little hideaway here. You think you've scared off the humans? People like curses. They like stories of haunted places. They like to whisper of the place no one dares go. But that's a game they play to amuse themselves. If we tell them their lost baby is here, they will descend with torches and fury."
He leaned into her ear. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You're old enough to know. You've had them come before, in the old world. That's why you fled here. That's why you're very careful about how you keep them away. Give them ghost stories, but do not actually make them afraid, or they'll drive you out and kill you."
The fae whimpered. "They did not want her. I did. I am good to her."
Ricky eased up. "I get that, but you misunderstood, and she's not yours to keep. Now take us to her."
#
The fae led us from the cave. Once we got out, she said, "You will want to dress first. It is cold."
"We're good," Ricky said. "And we're not giving you a chance to run."
"I cannot keep her underground," the fae said as she led us into the forest. "She is not big enough. It would be dangerous taking her under the water."
"It would."
"You will find out if they want her, yes?" she said. "I think you are mistaken. I heard them say they did not."
"We'll make sure of that," I said. I could only hope that what the fae overheard was a couple of young parents, temporarily frustrated. Parenting can't be easy, especially at that age, and there must be moments of exhaustion and frustration and even regret.
"If they do not want her, you will bring her back?"
I murmured something noncommittal.
"I am good to her," the fae said, as if sensing my doubt. "I took care of her. I kept her warm and fed, and I played with her, and she hardly even whimpers."
"I'm sure you were an excellent caregiver," I said.
The fae climbed over a pile of rock, scaling down a hillside as nimble as a mountain goat. We followed as best we could until we found her at the mouth of a cave.
"She is in there," she said. "Go and get her."
"Uh, no," Ricky said. "I don't know what's in there, but I have a feeling"--he inhaled and then backed up fast--"it runs on four legs."
Deep inside the cave, something stirred. I scrambled up the hillside, Ricky following. The fae bolted. Ricky swore and charged after her. I stayed where I was, listening to those noises in the cave, no idea what was in there, but making sure it didn't come out to investigate.
As the fae raced down the hillside, Ricky crossed above her, coming down onto an overhanging rock and then--
He jumped, landing on top of her, both of them rolling down the hill. I reached them just as Ricky got the fae pinned.
When I heard a whimper, Ricky did, too, his head jerking up. I kept going down the hillside, picking up speed, straining for those noises, almost lost in the calls and cries of the night.
Behind me, Ricky hissed in sudden pain. I turned to see the fae running my way, Ricky in pursuit, blood dripping, claw marks scored down his side.
I could see what looked like another thicket ahead. A cry came from inside. I spotted something pale. Pale yellow. Like the threads I'd found.
The fae was right on my heels. I dove, hit the edge of the thicket, and realized there were reasons other than "cold" for wearing clothing. Thorns clawed my torso. But there it was, a bundle wrapped in a soft yellow blanket covered in cartoon lions. I snatched it up in both arms, like a football.
The fae landed on my back. Teeth or claws dug into my shoulder. A snarl from Ricky, and the weight on my back disappeared.
My arms closed around the bundle as I whispered, "Sorry, sorry. You're okay. You're okay," and really hoped she was, because my football grab probably hadn't been the most baby-friendly move.
I held the bundle tight as she whimpered and whined. Then . . .
