Slowing her pace as she approached the end of the tunnel, she saw Xan waiting to ferry her through the door. He had already taken the others through.
“Are they coming?” he asked, gazing past her, his eyes wide and shining even in the dim light. His breath made little clouds in front of his face.
“I don’t think so,” she gasped, struggling to regulate her breathing.
Xan took a step back to make room for her, pulling her toward him to ensure that they stepped through the door together. He was clutching the familiar bundle of earth and twigs, dead leaves and moss, and she rested her midnight-blue glove on top of it, waiting for the dizzying sensation of moving-without-moving.
Then they were ducking out of the tiny clearing and crashing into the undergrowth, Donna still glancing behind them at the invisible door. Just because Xan had closed it and scattered the earth and leaves he’d been holding didn’t mean the wood elves couldn’t open it from their side.
But as they clambered through the brambles and Donna cursed the thorns scratching her cheeks, she began to think that maybe they had gotten away. Maybe they would be safe and could all just get into Xan’s car and return to Ironbridge, going back to something close to a normal life (whatever that meant for any of them). She refused to think about what would happen when the Wood Queen found the broken vial.
She refused to allow herself to think about the consequences that she herself would face with the Order.
Xan grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the main path. They passed underneath a particularly heavy covering of ferns and branches where she couldn’t see the moon at all. She stubbed her toe on a gnarled root and stopped for a moment, tugging on Xan’s hand to make him wait.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously. “We need to keep moving—Navin and Maker will be waiting farther down. It’s not far now.”
Donna leaned down to re-tie her sneaker, glad for a moment to catch her breath. “How do they know the way?”
“Maker,” Xan replied, simply.
Of course Maker would know the Ironwood, after all his years holding back the fey threat. Donna straightened up and pulled her coat more tightly around her. “I’m ready.”
The words had only just left her mouth when she heard it again: the sound that haunted her nightmares and wouldn’t leave her for as long as she lived: the otherworldly scream of the Skriker, ripping through her ears and vibrating in her body. The sound was much closer this time, but even if it wasn’t, she felt attuned to it now, somehow—every shriek was bringing her closer to that awful memory.
No wonder the elves hadn’t come after them, she thought. Why would they need to when the Wood Queen had loosed her pet on them?
Donna clutched Xan’s arm, for a moment forgetting the strength in her hands, and gazed panic-stricken into his wide eyes. “Xan, we have to get out of here.” Her voice trembled and she hated herself for her fear, but the ache in her arms reminded her why she was afraid. The terror was blinding-white in her mind, blocking out all other thoughts and any ability to move.
Xan was shaking her. “Come on, Donna, what are you standing there for?”
They ran, not caring about the sharp branches whipping at their faces, not caring which direction they ran in. Donna hoped they were staying on the main path, but she couldn’t be sure. It was too dark and they were running too fast—the moon was hidden behind a sudden coating of thick cloud and she could only see the eerie silhouettes of tree trunks and clawed branches.
The nerve-shredding scream came at them from the left, and the next thing Donna knew she was knocked over, all the air driving out of her lungs as she smashed into Xan and landed on top of him. There was a confused moment when she wasn’t sure whether he’d pushed her down to protect her, or if they had both just been blindsided by the silent-running hellhound.
She pulled herself free, struggling to lever Xan’s weight off her without hurting him with her strength. Her heart constricted when she saw thick blood oozing from a wide gash in his forehead. His face was gray, and the sticky blood was already congealing in his hair, glistening in a shaft of moonlight poking through the treetops.
The ground was littered with jagged rocks; he must have hit his head. She prayed that Xan was only unconscious. For a moment it was as though time had stopped—Donna didn’t care about the Skriker, the wood elves, the elixir of life—all she could think about was Xan lying motionless on the ground. His arms had been around her, protecting her from the dark creature now breathing in deep grunts somewhere beyond the ring of trees, saving her from the worst of the fall. He had been unable to save himself while sheltering her.
Moaning in fear, Donna listened for signs of life, her ear close to Xan’s pale lips. He lay so still and his cheek was cold—it reminded her of when she was a child, leaning over her father’s body. Then she felt a warm whisper of breath touch her face. Flooded with relief, she was about to place her ear to Xan’s chest, just to be certain, when the screeching started once more.
Donna put her hands over her ears as she tried to shut out the horrific noise. She crouched over Xan’s body and found herself wondering whether the baying creature had changed much in all these years.
Strange, she thought, the way the mind works when you’re facing death.
Dragging herself to her feet, Donna looked into the dimly lit forest. She had no idea where she was anymore—no clue where Navin or Maker were. Once again, she was alone with the Wood Monster. And this time her father wouldn’t be coming to save her.
With a loud crack as it knocked down a fragile sapling, the Skriker leapt into view. Somehow, Donna thought it would seem smaller now that she was grown up, but the giant dog crouching before her was the size of a small horse. Donna slowly retreated, her eyes fixed on the black creature in front of her while she tried not to trip over Xan’s prone form. Its yellow eyes glowed like sickly embers and smoke poured from its mouth and nostrils, stinking of bonfires. The trees lit up as it advanced on her, its crimson aura growing brighter by the second. The ground beneath its massive paws burned and shuddered.
The Skriker opened its jaws and screamed.
Blue flames burst from its mouth, licking the trunks of trees like a giant fiery tongue. Donna threw herself to the ground and rolled to the side, smashing her shoulder on the hard earth and her knee against a tree. Keeping her wary eyes on Xan, hoping the hellish dog either wouldn’t notice him or would just think he was dead, she crawled onto her hands and knees and pulled herself up, using the tree for support. Her legs were shaking and her body ached but she pushed through the pain, remembering that terrified girl she’d once been. She allowed herself to think of her father, and glanced once more at Xan. Not again, she told herself. Never again.
She removed her gloves. The velvet material dropped to the ground as Donna stood, her back braced against the old tree. By the light of the moon she saw the Skriker’s amber eyes rest on her as more smoke belched from its mouth.
Its shaggy black hide moved fluidly over its muscles as it lowered its head and charged toward her.
And suddenly, Donna was overwhelmed with a sense of complete calm—she was facing death, and yet there was a feeling of serenity flowing through her. Maybe it was just shock, but she would take strength where she could find it. She held her hands out in front of her and watched as the moon reflected off the silver lines flowing across and beneath her skin. The shimmering lattice that encapsulated her hands and arms was moving at a startling rate, winding around and around in a spiral motion that made her fingers numb.
Clenching her fists at the last moment, Donna turned her head away as the Skriker crashed into her and slammed her back against the tree. The burning creature’s chest had driven into her hands, her silver fists plunging through its black fur and flesh and directly into its massive heart.
There was no blood, just blue flame—cold and unforgiving to human flesh, but powerless against Donna’s magically enhanced arms. The cold iron lacing her skin and bones had sliced
through the Skriker’s fey hide like the sharpest knife. She collapsed under the weight of the dying creature. Its huge head flopped back on its neck as it tried to drag itself back onto its haunches, desperate to escape the agony she had inflicted on it.
Half-crushed and only semiconscious, Donna listened to the Skriker’s dying breaths and felt a burst of pity for this thing that had maimed her as a child and killed her father. And instead of being angry with herself for thinking this way, she felt only acceptance. The creature was merely a tool of the Wood Queen, of that Donna was certain. It didn’t know what it was doing; it was created simply to instill fear—and where fear didn’t work, to kill. Compassion was a quality she knew Patrick Underwood valued highly, and she was glad to think that he might be proud of her.
Now, as she lay battered and bruised under the giant body of the Skriker, she knew what it was to destroy something yet also feel a sense of pity for it.
After several minutes, Donna managed to crawl out from beneath the creature’s bulky frame, pushing hard with her shaking legs and rolling to the side as its giant head fell forward, tongue lolling out. She winced as she dragged herself through the still-burning embers scattered along the ground, the knees of her jeans not affording nearly enough protection. Just for a moment she wondered why there wasn’t a minor forest fire, then remembered that the flames were of another world—of another time and place—and would not burn the same way Prometheus’ gift did. This wasn’t the fire of the alchemists.
Xan was just beginning to stir, moaning in pain as he turned his head. Donna scrambled to his side, wondering whether she could tear the lining out of her coat to make a bandage. Wasn’t that what they did in movies? And then she realized she had the perfect bandage—the black velvet pouch that had held the elixir. She tore it open, ripping the seams with ease, and pressed the cloth gently to the wound on Xan’s head, all the while urging him to lie still until help arrived. She was desperately banking on Navin and Maker finding them; otherwise, she would have to leave Xan here and try to find her way out of the Ironwood in the dark. Even with the occasional glimpse of white moon, she doubted it would be easy. She was well and truly lost.
“Rest,” she whispered to Xan, pulling his head onto her lap and stroking back his blood-matted hair. “You’re bleeding.”
“Donna.” His voice was so faint she could hardly hear him.
“Shh,” she repeated. “Don’t try to talk.”
Xan’s eyes flickered open, the emerald light within them flashing briefly, then closed again. His head rolled to the side and he groaned.
“Please,” Donna prayed. “Navin, please find us.”
And just as she spoke these words aloud, she heard a distant voice. The voice was calling her name, and getting louder and louder.
“I’m here!” she called. She ran her fingers through Xan’s hair again, reveling in the freedom of doing so without wearing her gloves, and wondering if she would get the chance to touch him like this when he was fully conscious. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. I hope so, she thought.
Navin burst through the undergrowth. “Donna, you’re okay!” He looked at the half-conscious Xan lying in her lap. “What happened?”
She nodded in the direction of the Skriker’s body, behind him, and couldn’t help enjoying the expression of shock on her friend’s face. “That, Navin, is a Skriker.”
“Was a Skriker, don’t you mean?” Awe radiated from his voice. “It sort of looks like a bear.”
She shook her head and almost smiled. Navin could always make her smile and she loved him for that. “It’s not a bear, Sharma. What kind of bears do they have on your planet?”
He ignored her and gazed at Xan for a long moment. “Did he kill it?”
“No,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes. “It was me.”
“Seriously?” Navin’s expression was a complicated mixture of horror, disbelief, and … admiration.
“Yeah, seriously.”
“Huh.” He crouched down by the creature’s body. “Pretty cool, Underwood.”
Pride burst in her chest for the second time in the space of minutes.
“Pretty cool,” Navin repeated. “And pretty gross.”
Before she could throw a retort, Xan shifted against her and tried to lever himself into a sitting position.
“Hey, take it easy,” Donna said, doing her best to keep him steady.
“I’m okay,” Xan replied. And it actually seemed like he was, because the next moment, Alexander Grayson gently pushed away from her fussing hands and slowly began to stand. His hair was still matted with blood and he looked pretty dazed, but he was moving well enough, all things considered. Donna screwed up her face with confusion when she realized that the gash in his forehead looked almost closed.
She jumped to her feet—ignoring the wave of dizziness that almost planted her on her butt again—and touched Xan’s face. It was still pretty dark … could she have been mistaken about his wound?
Navin was watching the two of them, which felt a little weird, but she couldn’t worry about it right now. The gash had truly closed. Donna licked her thumb and rubbed crusted blood away from where the injury should have been, ignoring Xan’s protests. How had he healed so quickly? Was it a faery thing?
She glared at him, unable to suppress a rising tide of suspicion. He himself had told her there was still a lot she didn’t know about him, and now here she was, getting pissed off about that very fact. What was wrong with her? She should just be happy he was okay. Donna took a steadying breath and tried not to sound accusing.
“You were bleeding like crazy a minute ago, Xan. Now there’s no cut here.”
He frowned, looking genuinely puzzled about why she was angry. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought it was?”
She narrowed her eyes. “It was bad. Trust me on that. It was pretty bad.”
He ran his fingers over where the wound should have been. “I don’t know what happened, I swear.” He glanced over at Navin. “Is she always this damn suspicious?”
Navin smirked, and the moment of connection between the two guys would have been a relief to Donna if it weren’t for the fact they were bonding over dissing her.
And then a thought struck her. Not just any thought, either. This was a big one—potentially huge and apparently life-saving. She gazed at the piece of blood-drenched material in her hand, material that had originally held the vial of elixir.
The vial that she had crushed while it was still inside the pouch.
Could there have been a drop of elixir on the material? If even the tiniest trickle of liquid had escaped the damaged vial before she’d removed it from the pouch, it would have soaked into the lining. Which meant that maybe Xan was telling the truth after all—maybe he really didn’t have magical fey healing abilities. Maybe Donna had accidentally healed him with a legendary alchemical compound that she wasn’t even sure she believed in.
Until now.
Navin touched her shoulder. “Donna, what is it?”
She licked her lips and shook her head, trying to smile. “Nothing. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”
Yeah, like either of them would buy that.
But Donna didn’t know what to think of any of this right now, and they needed to get out of here. Xan was okay, which was what mattered.
Then Xan abruptly frowned at Navin. “Hey, where’s the old guy?”
Navin indicated over his shoulder. “Not far. He’s waiting on a tree stump by the path.”
Donna breathed a sigh of relief. “The path’s nearby?”
Navin nodded. “Sure. You almost made it.”
You almost made it. His innocent words echoed in her mind and Donna couldn’t bring herself to reply. They had made it; everybody was safe. She’d achieved her goal: she’d saved her best friend’s life and retrieved Maker. She’d even destroyed the creature that had decimated her family, ten years before.
But at what cost?
The first light of
morning was just beginning to peek through the clouds, bathing the treetops in an ethereal silver glow. They had met the Wood Queen’s deadline. Donna tried to push aside her fears and concentrate on the fact that they had won. But somehow the victory felt hollow, no matter how relieved she was to see Navin smiling at her as he turned toward the path.
Glancing surreptitiously at Xan, impossibly invigorated considering all that they’d been through, she bit her lip and wondered how the hell she was going to explain all this to her aunt.
Donna Underwood’s Journal:
Navin still hasn’t told me about his time with the wood elves. I know he understands more about my life now, about the nightmares I’ve had for so many years, but I wish his understanding hadn’t come at such a horrible price. I hope he will talk to me about it, one day—I can’t help worrying, and he’s been so quiet.
Simon Gaunt took great pleasure in returning my charm bracelet. He’d found it inside his oratorium, right next to the smashed incubator.
Way to get caught red-handed.
Aunt Paige was furious that I’d put myself in such danger, and she was the most emotional I’ve ever seen her. She actually cried when we got back to the Frost Estate. But I have a bad feeling that her tears weren’t all about my safety.
I was proven right when Quentin Frost set a date for the hearing.
Yeah, me … Donna Underwood … who never asked to be born into this crazy magical life, is being hauled in front of a panel of alchemists to answer for my actions. They aren’t using the word “crimes,” but they might as well. Nobody listens to me when I tell them I had to save Navin. Why would they care? He’s just a commoner, after all. But they’re not even listening to Maker. At least he isn’t treating me like a criminal.
The Iron Witch Page 20