Page 58 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

And why—also how—did their energy change Thea like this? To say I’m worried is a massive understatement. But to be fair, I feel like scolding Rosa as well. Thea didn’t mean to hurt Tempest; it was an accident, and I’m certain the others understand that as well. Or perhaps they don’t. Perhaps they’ve never harmed anyone unintentionally or otherwise, never been faced with two choices, one bad, the other worse.

I address my words to Thea. “The In-Between is a liminal space between the wildlands and the territories granted to the courts. Here, there is no ruling entity to provide visual cohesion, so it’s a place where lost things wash up.”

Taragon wipes her eyes, dashing away the last of the tears. Her expression is grim and conflicted as she regards her friend’s anguish. But she takes a moment to collect herself and chooses not to accuse Thea. Not to spit sharp words, even though her behavior in the market square indicated she once had a close bond with Tempest. Then she spins in a slow circle, taking in the environs.

The area is shrouded in fog, brackish water on the boggy ground. It pools around our ankles, and I feel occasional nudges, even through my boots, that hint at creatures swimming in it. Gray and withered roots rise above the rocky ground like tentacles that have been left in the sun yet are concurrently rotting from within. I cannot make out any features of the landscape in the distance. It all looks the same, bleak and featureless.

“We’ve established where. The more pertinent point is, how do we leave?” Rosa says.

Zeph appears pensive. They’re so quiet, reacting so little to current events, that it sets off mild alarm bells. “An excellent question,” they respond.

I’m more concerned about the fact that my previously flawless magic has gone wrong. Again. Twice in a row?

That is completely improbable. More likely? Sabotage. While I can’t completely rule out external interference—because who knows what magic was ricocheting around the crowd—I don’t know if it was a result of enemies of Winter who recognized us, someone trying to prevent our escape, if it could have been a coincidence or…

No. None of those answers feel right.

I don’t like this possibility, but someone within the group could be working against us. Taragon wasn’t present for the first misfire, and she was sobbing too hard to have done anything. But I don’t know about Zeph or Rosa. We accepted them on faith, but perhaps it’s time to scrutinize their motives.

I won’t confront them yet. I don’t have any proof.

Belatedly, I realize that I’m still on my knees. Thea comes to my side and offers me a hand. Her gaze is weighted, silently daring me to reject her. But here’s what I don’t say as I meet her gaze: Drain me dry. I’m not afraid. It’s worth it to experience the joy of your touch.

I accept her help, savoring our fleeting contact. I’m unsteady, but the headache is receding. My mouth tastes sour, an acrid touch in my throat that makes me suspect I barely avoided depositing my breakfast on the marshy soil.

“What do we know?” I ask.

“Only that it’s difficult to leave,” Zeph answers.

“Any of you been here before?” Tara sounds rough, her voice thick and raspy with intense grief.

Rosa scoffs, whirring in tight, angry little circles, her wings fluttering too fast to be seen clearly in an impressive display of aerial agitation. “Definitely not. Pixies are smarter than this. This! This is what I get for helping big folk.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Zeph promises.

They pat their shoulder, offering a perch, but Rosa refuses with a snarl and a headshake. She seems truly enraged, blaming Zeph enough to avoid getting close to them. Their flicker of surprise suggests the enigmatic fae wasn’t expecting her to be this furious while I wonder why they’re so serene.

“You always say that, and I’m still waiting,” she grumbles.

Their relationship intrigues me; it is not romantic, but they seem to be close. Are they friends? More like family? And how far would Rosa go for Zeph if it came down to it?

As I wonder, water jets upward in an explosive burst, and something rises from the murky water, all open mouth, flailing tentacles, and snapping teeth.

27

A Token for Fighting and Ferocity

This isn’t the usual working, my gem. One never knows what might happen, and one day, you might find yourself facing a fight, through no fault of your own. I’m well aware that you don’t go seeking trouble, but sometimes it finds us. You take after me in that way. In my youth, I could never pass up a chance to stick my nose in, and I rarely refrained from interfering if I thought my meddling could change someone’s life for the better. You get your curiosity from me, dear daughter. Never let anyone tell you different.

And so I’ve crafted something for your protection, using my magic and the best of the protective stones. It’s one use only, and you’ll know what to do as soon as you put the bracelet on. Keep it with you so I can protect you even from afar. I’d never suggest you take up training for battle, as it’s neither where your heart nor your inclinations lie. But all the same, it would make me feel better if you kept this with you. I expended a fair amount of time and energy upon it, and it should serve you well in the right circumstances.

You’ll need:

Amber and obsidian moonstone and white agate, strung into a bracelet on fine silver thread

There are no complex instructions, no ritual to complete. When you’re in grave danger and all hope seems lost, put the bracelet on. Let my love do the rest.

Thea