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“And so, old friends, might we meet again. Riddle me this: Who has news that might interest young, intrepid explorers who dare to enter the realm of the Queen Myst?”
I jerked around. There, wizened, old, and haggard, was one of the Wilding Fae—the snow hag who had helped us once before in return for her freedom. Chatter and I froze as she laughed, her voice peeling out softly on the slipstream.
The Elementals cocked their heads in unison and turned our way. I rushed off the path, into the woods where she stood and they stopped again.
“Hush, hush…be silent. They hear you.”
“Riddle me this, then, young girl. A bargain must be struck, or certain explorers will be sorely pressed. It is sad to face an old friend who now has become an old enemy. And one who knows of this unwilling traitor, one who was once ensnared in Myst’s grasp, has a hankering for fresh meat, but rabbits are scarce this season and the squirrels have fled the forest.”
I stared at the crone. The Wilding Fae were frightful creatures of the forest who could help you for good or for ill but always at a bargain. Myst had snared the snow hag once before, seeking to utilize her powers, but Chatter, Peyton, and I had freed her and she had shown us where to find the entrance to the tunnel that had led us to the land of the Bat People.
Now she was back. And apparently hungry. But she had news that we needed to hear. The Wilding Fae were good to their words with bargains, as long as the wording was clear. I glanced at Chatter and he nodded. I let him take the lead. He had more experience with these creatures than did I.
“One we have bargained with before says she has news. I wonder, should this be news the mighty explorers do not yet know?” He leaned against a tree, feigning disinterest. Grieve slipped over and wrapped his arm protectively around my waist.
The snow hag cocked her head, a gleam in her eye. “A young Fae man may guess an old woman thinks to trick him, but he might be wrong. There are dangers afoot in the forest and when the belly is empty, it helps to make bargains.”
Chatter pursed his lips. “Hmm…then perhaps such a bargain might be struck. But a young Fae man may wonder if such news be worth the trade. And there might be a time lapse in meeting the payment for the bargain. Fresh meat is not easy to come by when a mission awaits.”
It was the snow hag’s turn to pause. She tipped her head to the sky, letting the snow flutter into her face. One breath, two breaths, three breaths later she gave a sharp nod. “The snow is deep and grows deeper. Fresh meat may make it on the table today or tomorrow or the next day. Whichever day, it will still taste as good as long as it reaches the belly.”
“Then if tomorrow or the next day is as good as today for supping, perhaps a deal can be made. Fresh meat of a brace of rabbits or two fat chickens or perhaps a thick steak to feed several mouths in exchange for news new to the ear?”
She cackled and held out her hand. “Bargains must be blood-sealed. One such as a Cambyra Fae should know the rules.”
Chatter turned to Grieve, who held out a knife, and—without blinking—sliced his thumb. Blood dripping down the side of his hand, Chatter turned back to the snow hag, who had cut her own hand, and they clasped, shaking tightly, the droplets splattering onto the fresh snow, spreading pink stains.
“Then a bargain is sealed.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed ahead to the path where we were headed. “On yonder path, sitting on a downed tree, waits a beautiful witch. One of the magic-born but turned by Myst for her own use. With flowing locks of red, the same red as one of our explorers. She waits, knowing her daughter approaches, but not realizing that one of the Wilding Fae has struck a bargain for meat. She means to destroy the expedition.”
Heather! Heather was up ahead, waiting for us.
“But how can that be? The redheaded witch is a vampire. And light shines on the forest, be it dimmed by clouds or not.”
“One might ask what kind of vampire she is—one might ask when Myst turns the magic-born, do they become true vampires or vampires of the Indigo Court, who may walk abroad in the daylight when the need arises?”
I thought quickly as Rhiannon stifled a cry and turned to me. I looked wildly to Grieve and Chatter for guidance.
“She’s right,” Chatter said. “If I remember right, the magic-born turned by Myst become vampires much like the Vampiric Fae, able to walk abroad in the daylight, though not nearly as powerful. But that would mean the light-rage did not affect her. I wonder why.”
I frowned. “The light-rage affected Grieve, but he is Cambyra Fae, not magic-born.”
Before I could say more, Chatter raised one hand and turned back to the snow hag. “Tomorrow or the next day, one who has struck a bargain for meat should stand at the edge of the road near the turnoff to the wishing well, and there the meat shall be delivered at midday. I wonder, does the bargain maker know where this is?”
“Wonder well, you should, but perchance your question might be answered with an affirmation that yes, indeed, the location is known. And now, it is time for one of the Wilding Fae to retreat far away for the day. Too much danger exists in this wood. Too much fear.” Without a word, the snow hag vanished into the thicket.
Rhia turned to me, a mute plea on her face.
I held out my arms and she fell against my shoulder, sobbing. Whispering low, so low that the slipstream could not carry my words, I said, “We will find your mother and put her to rest. Myst will claim her no longer.”
And then, knowing that we were about to face one of the hardest tasks of our lives, I pushed her back by the shoulders and stared into her face. “Can you do this? Can you even watch us do this? We must stake her—destroy her.”
Heather, Rhiannon’s mother, had been captured by Myst along with Peyton. She’d given her life so that Peyton could live. Myst had drunk her down and turned her into a vampire. Weaker than the true vampires but still possessing her magical powers, Heather had fallen under Myst’s spell and now worked for her. And she was waiting for us.
Rhiannon steeled herself, her red hair vivid against her pale skin. “I am ready. We’ll do what we must. I don’t want her to live like this anymore. She would beg me to release her if she weren’t bewitched.”
Chatter stepped forward then, and he took Rhiannon’s hands. As we watched, he brushed her hair back from her face, and then slowly as their gazes locked, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he encircled her waist, kissing her deeply. I caught my breath and sought for Grieve’s hand. We turned away from the silent tableau, giving them what privacy we could, until Rhiannon cleared her throat.
Chatter stepped back, his gaze never leaving Rhiannon’s. “You know how I feel, Miss Rhiannon. You have to know how I feel.”
