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You never just asked a Wilding one for a favor—that would forever put you at their mercy. But if you played your cards right, you could bargain your way into a deal.
The snow hag frowned, tilting her head. “Someone might have information to share—might play double duty and keep an eye on the enemy. For there are secrets to this forest that even the Mistress of Mayhem does not understand, and there are creatures who do not hearken well to her form of rule.”
She was offering to play double agent, to give us information and quite possibly show us something that could hurt Myst.
With a glance at Chatter, I said, “We would have to have a binding oath that Myst will never find out, should someone choose to do this. Blood will be spilled.”
“Blood, blood, blood, the juice of life, the drink of the damned. Spill a little blood, spill a little secret. No harm, no foul.” Her voice singsonged over the words, traipsing like an arpeggio, a light trill on the wind.
I pulled out my switchblade. That was as close to a yes as we were going to get. “Then I would say, a drop of blood for the release word would be a good bargain. A binding oath to keep secret our presence and to tell us truths about this woodland that Myst does not know.”
The snow hag nodded. “That would be a fair trade, and a fool would not accept the deal, but one wise in the ways of the world would jump at the chance.” She held out her hand and I cut her palm, then my own, and we clasped hands. The feel of her blood on my palm was slippery, and tingled, and I wondered if she had any disease, but it was too late to worry about that now.
As soon as I pulled away my hand, I said, “To free oneself from a magical snare, it might be prudent to whisper the words, Arcanum, Arcanum, archanumist. Vilathia, reshon, reshadar.”
The snow hag cracked a wily grin and repeated the charm, and a subtle breeze swept through. I could hear the sound of magical chains breaking in the slipstream. The Wilding Fae tipped her head to and fro, then tapped her nose with one long, jointed finger.
“A bargain offered, a bargain kept. Never shirk a debt, never break a promise. Spill a little blood, now a little secret. Myst would not like this, should she know. Myst is a spider in her sleep, weaving her plans and shenanigans. But not all spiders are all-clever. Myst does not know about a subterranean pathway that lurks near here. None of her people use it. One could climb in, traipse through the Golden Wood without being sensed, if one wanted to hide.”>“We already know what their spiders are like,” Chatter said. “But beware—the Ice and Snow Elementals are dangerous if they are bound to one such as Myst. You can’t really kill them. They’ll just re-form if you shatter them.”
“Should I have brought Rhiannon, with her fire?”
He shook his head. “She’s not strong enough to make the journey. You and Peyton are versed in fighting, and you’re both tough. Rhiannon and her beau aren’t as skilled or as physically fit.” When he said the word beau I heard a catch in his voice. Chatter had a crush on my cousin and everybody knew it, but nobody wanted to touch the subject.
“Have you ever been to the Court of Dreams?” I quickened my pace, wanting to be through the woods before afternoon.
“No, Miss Cicely. I haven’t. Grieve has, though. He went once, against the Queen’s orders. I remember he got in so much trouble.” His voice broke again, and he shook his head, as if to shake off the past. “Best not to dwell on times long gone. Even if we win, nothing will ever be the same again.”
Peyton cleared her throat. “No, they won’t, but perhaps they won’t be as dire as you think. Sometimes change brings new growth. I know that sounds like a platitude, but honestly, it’s true. When my father ran off, my mother had to change our entire way of life. I was too little to remember most of it, but I do remember we had to move out of our big house into a tiny apartment, and that suddenly, Da was gone. He never came back, and the abandonment still hurts, but we survived. We learned to enjoy life again.”
I smiled at her, shivering. “I never had a home, except for the Veil House. It’s the only place I ever carried in my heart, because it stood for stability. Heather was the only mother figure I knew. My own mother . . . Krystal was . . .”
I paused, flashing back to all the nights on the run, trying to escape apartment managers after their money, and johns who were angry because Krystal stole from them after she’d fucked them. I’d catch a snippet on the wind and away we’d run. Though my mother hated her magic—and mine—she took advantage of it when it promised to keep her out of trouble.
The only stability during those years came from Uncle Brody, who I met when I was seven and who taught me the rules of survival as best as he could, and the few months we lived with Dane, the man who had tattooed me, and who’d been in love with Krystal. But she blew that one, just as she fucked up everything in our lives, and we were out on the streets again, and Dane died from a gunman’s bullet.
I’d learned to use the wind to help me survive. Ulean warned me of danger, warned me when we needed to move or when there was an opportunity I might miss. She—and the wind—kept us alive on the margins of society.
I shook my head. “Krystal was a fuck-up. She was weak and she died because she couldn’t face reality. I’ll never let myself become like her.” A glance at the sky told me the snow was falling faster. “Come on, let’s make tracks and get to the portal. Chatter, lead the way?”
As we pushed deeper into the wood, the world faded except for the stark, barren trees, evergreens blanketed with a layer of white, and brush and rocks hidden by the snow. We must have been walking for half an hour when a noise startled me. I motioned for the others to stop.
“Did you hear that?” I kept my voice as low as I could and still be heard. Chatter could hear me if I spoke in the slipstream, but Peyton couldn’t.
Chatter nodded, motioning to our left. The noise was coming from deeper in the woods, and whatever it was, it sounded like it was moving closer. I thought for a moment. We could hurry, try to outpace it, but it sounded like it was coming in fast, and we couldn’t run through the snow. We could meet it, take the offensive, or we could wait. There was no place to hide, that was for sure—unless Peyton and I shifted and Chatter vanished. But that would require getting naked in the cold, and I didn’t fancy that.
I readied my switchblade and fan, and Peyton readied the walking stick she’d been carrying. Chatter took a deep breath and moved into fighting stance.
At that moment, the creature broke through and my heart sank. It wasn’t one of the Shadow Hunters, but what we were facing could be far more dangerous. I’d heard of them, but they usually inhabited cold mountaintops or the northern forests.
Ulean, are you ready?
I am here. Be cautious. This one is dangerous. She is old and crafty.
Chatter gasped. “A snow hag!”
She appeared to be a withered old woman, but she was far more than that. Members of the Wilding Fae, inclined toward evil, snow hags were usually magically summoned by powerful entities. Like Myst. Far more dangerous than any tillynok or goblin, snow hags wielded dark magic. And this one looked ready to rumble.
Chapter 5
