“I’ll fight for it!” Donna shouted, terrified to find herself being kicked out of Faerie with no way back in.
Isolde turned back to her, interest flickering in her eyes. “Fight? You mean to say that you’re challenging my court?”
Donna closed her eyes for a moment. What was she doing? What I have to do, she told herself fiercely.
“If that’s the only way, yes. I don’t know how this works, but I challenge—”
“I will fight her,” Cathal said, stepping forward and cutting her off before she could complete a formal challenge to Taran.
Was that better or worse? She couldn’t fight a faery knight—she didn’t have a hope of winning. But she was desperate, and she’d opened her stupid mouth without thinking. Cathal was obviously trying to help her, drag her out of the hole she was busy digging for herself.
But Isolde wasn’t buying. “Step down, Cathal. There will be no challenges today.” She narrowed her eyes at Donna. “I do not know whether you are incredibly brave or incredibly foolish, Donna Underwood.”
Donna knew the answer to that, but kept her mouth shut. See? she thought. I can be sensible.
The queen smiled. The expression was hard and bright, like glass. “I will send you back to your world, and I will ensure that no time has been lost on your quest to make a new Philosopher’s Stone.” She walked to the front of the dais and one of her attendants, a short man with horns of bone growing from his forehead, handed her an ornately carved wooden box.
When Isolde opened the catch and flipped open the lid, Donna couldn’t hold back her gasp. The Ouroboros Blade. The wicked-sharp blade was pure black and the handle carved of ivory. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to hold it; to take it now and run. She was one step closer to saving everything she knew and loved. If she could just get her hands on that knife.
She forced herself to be still, to wait for the queen’s terms.
“You may have the blade, as much good as it will do you when dealing with demons,” Isolde said. “This is the bargain I offer you, and it will be a bargain sealed with the blood of those you love. You are too reckless. I do not trust any deal made in which your own life is wagered.”
Donna bit her lip. Okay, so now the queen thought she had a death wish. It wasn’t true, but she could hardly blame Isolde for drawing that conclusion, based on her actions so far.
“We will hold the life of Alexander Grayson, born of Cathal, as collateral. Should you fail in the task I set you, his life will be forfeit.”
Donna felt sick. “I can’t bargain with his life,” she whispered. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Isolde laughed, sharp and brittle. “You talk to me of fair?” She shook her head. “No, these are my terms—and they serve equally as punishment for Cathal. I will give you the Ouroboros Blade so that you may create your Stone. If you succeed in appeasing the demons, you must also kill the Magus, Simon Gaunt of the Dragon Order.”
Donna took a step back. What? Kill Simon? Her chest hurt as she tried to catch her breath.
Isolde held out the box. “So you see, Donna. I am nothing if not fair. If Demian destroys all of you, you won’t even need to complete your part of the bargain.”
Cathal took Donna to the edge of a grove of pine trees. The scene was beautiful. The air was balmy and the sky was clear blue as it swept overhead. It should have been the sort of scene to bring peace, but Donna only felt dread. She clamped down on it, keeping everything under control until she got the hell out of this place.
The tall faery knight touched the trunk of a tree that didn’t look any different from its neighbors. The wood shimmered and melted, forming a small doorway.
“Descend the stairs and you will reach a long corridor made of leaf and wood. Follow it to the end, and you will reach another door. That will take you to where you most need to be.”
She stared into the darkness, then back at Cathal. “It’s that easy?”
“This time, yes,” he said. “There are many entrances into Faerie, but they move on a daily basis. We have not had need to monitor these doors for two human centuries.”
“It must be weird for you to deal with us again, after all this time.”
“Indeed. It is strange to meet with mortals again, but I find I enjoy it.” Cathal’s handsome face broke into a smile. “I always did.”
Donna smiled in return, thinking about Xan’s human birth mother, but her expression felt forced. She couldn’t stop her mind turning over everything that still lay ahead of her—not least of which was to find a way into Hell, of all freaking places. And now she had to kill a magus. Murder. Could she do that? It wasn’t like she hadn’t contemplated it before, like where Demian was concerned. But thinking about it in a flash of anger was one thing …
She pushed the thought away. She’d worry about it later. Her grip tightened on the box that held the Ouroboros Blade. It wouldn’t matter, anyway, if she couldn’t fulfill Demian’s terms. Nothing would matter, because the Demon King would begin tearing apart the world that she knew.
Cathal touched her shoulder. “I wish I could help you further, but my place is here. With my queen.”
“Sure. I know that. You’ve already done enough—I didn’t expect you to help me as much as you did. Thank you.”
“For my son, I will do what I can. I hope to have the chance to make amends to him one day—even more so now that his mortal life is at stake.”
Donna turned her back on the dangerous beauty of Faerie and walked through the doorway in the tree, into its trunk. Her feet found steps in the darkness and she used the rough-hewn walls to guide her as she descended a helter-
skelter staircase. Round and round she walked, until she hit the bottom and made for the door that Cathal had described.
It will take you where you most need to be, he’d said.
Donna saw the night sky and stars as she pushed through, back into her own world. She could only hope she hadn’t lost too much time.
Seventeen
Looking around, desperately trying to get her bearings, Donna felt disoriented, like Dorothy after the tornado deposited her in Oz. She hugged herself against the cold and wished she had better night vision. At least it didn’t take too long to figure out that she was in the Ironwood.
It was dark and frosty. Donna gazed into the sky and was relieved to see a familiar stretch of bruised purple clouds. The smell of pine filled the air and frost crunched beneath her sneakers as she took a tentative step forward.
She had no idea where she was in relation to any of the exits from the Ironwood. Sure, what remained of the forest was hardly sprawling, but it covered a big enough space that, were you to find yourself dumped in the middle of it at random, you didn’t have much hope of finding your way out. At least, not any time soon.
Twilight made the winter trees look bleak and sinister. Even the evergreens seemed to loom dark and threatening as she turned around, trying to get her bearings. She looked up at the sky again, wondering if there were any hints up there. But of course she didn’t have a clue what she was doing when it came to stargazing.
I’m truly lost, Donna decided. Though maybe that was a good thing—she might somehow wander into the Elflands, whose main point of entry was in the Ironwood. But the only way to gain access to Aliette’s realm was to locate an Old Path—the pathways of the wood elves—and use fey magic to request entry.
Donna had never thought this would be something she’d want to do, but right now she was willing to take all the lucky breaks she could get. Since Xan wasn’t with her, she didn’t have much chance of searching out the Elflands on her own, and she’d never been a very good navigator when map-reading for Aunt Paige as a kid. But she couldn’t avoid the fact that getting the Cup of Hermes from Aliette was the next logical step—the next thing she must do if she had any hope of creating the Philosopher’s Stone by dawn on Imbolc.
> She picked a direction and started walking, shivering in the night air and hoping she would hit a path she recognized sooner rather than later.
A sharp screech made Donna jump, and she had to touch the closest tree trunk to get her breath and balance. She was badly on edge, all her nerves felt raw and exposed, but given her memories of the Skriker—the monster she’d killed just a couple months ago—she could hardly blame herself. The sound she’d heard definitely wasn’t the fey creature, though—she’d know that particular cry anywhere. Probably it had just been an owl, swooping for its prey.
Just as Donna convinced herself it was safe to continue, the bushes on either side of the path rustled. Four wood elves scuttled onto the path, blocking her way forward.
The clicking and scraping sounds they made in the backs of their throats made her shudder. Donna’s tattoos stirred against her arms. She spun around, planning to run back the other way, but another group of elves already blocked her escape, their black eyes watching her with creepy intensity.
Donna knew she could try fighting them, but six wiry elves, no matter how weakened they might be, were too many for just one of her. She darted to the side and off the path, plunging into the undergrowth.
“Stop!” The shout came from somewhere back on the path, and Donna was so surprised that she actually did as commanded. Not because of the order itself, but because wood elves didn’t speak human language. Their mouths and throats could not form the right syllables—at least, not in their true, unglamoured form.
She turned around slowly. There was only one person who that voice could belong to.
Aliette stood straight and tall on the path, her six elves gathered around like giant insects.
Donna glanced over her shoulder and then back up at the sky. It was completely dark now, and she didn’t stand much chance in the Ironwood at night—not if she wasn’t even sticking to the main paths. The Wood Queen regarded her calmly, waiting for her to come to the only sensible conclusion.
Donna picked her way around brambles and fallen branches, stepping back onto the path strewn with dead leaves and dried berries.
“Your Majesty,” she said.
“Iron Witch,” the queen replied. Donna could swear that Aliette was smiling, but it was difficult to tell in that strange, woody face of hers. “You stink of my cousin, Isolde.”
Donna raised her brows. “You can smell her on me? That’s … pretty weird. No offense,” she added quickly.
Aliette waved away her minions. “Walk with me.”
“Where are we going?” Donna asked. “I’ve already been in Faerie today—I’m not sure I want to cross realms again. Can’t we talk here?”
“I will not take you into my lands tonight, Donna Underwood. If we follow this path, it will show you the way out of the forest. I assume you are lost … ”
Donna’s shoulders slumped. She was lost, tired, scared. All of that good stuff. “Why would you help me?”
Aliette laughed, a strange brittle sound accompanied by a rustling sound like dead leaves. “When have I helped you in the past, and why would I start now? No, young alchemist, I only ever act in the interests of my people.”
Donna put her hands on her hips. “Oh, really? Is that what you call letting the demons out of Hell?”
A sly look crossed the Wood Queen’s features. “I believe it was you who achieved that particular task. Remarkable power, indeed, in one so young.”
Donna scowled. “I’m sick of games, your Majesty. What do you really want?”
“I would give you what you seek—the Cup of Hermes. An alchemical artifact carved from the bark of the oldest tree in the Elflands.”
“Just like that?” Donna snorted. No way would Aliette, of all people, make it so easy for her. “Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”
“I care little for what you believe. I care only about saving my kin. Now, the only way I can do this is to have the Elflands accepted back into the realm of Faerie. And to do that, I must play by the Demon King’s rules. Take the cup—what good it may do you—and make your precious Stone. With Demian back in power, we are obliged to pay the tithe to Hell once more. Perhaps we can then return to Faerie and my wood elves may yet survive.”
Donna examined the queen’s words, turning them every way in her mind, looking for the trick. The trap. There was always a catch when it came to the fey, and it wasn’t like she didn’t have personal experience of Aliette’s sneaky nature.
The Wood Queen made a sharp clicking sound and held out her hand. An elf leapt down from the tree beside Donna, almost giving her a heart attack. She stepped back, tripped over a stone, and narrowly avoided falling on her ass.
The wood elf chattered at its mistress and handed her a package wrapped in leaves. Aliette nodded, dismissing the creature.
“Here,” she said, turning back to Donna. “Take the cup. It has been in our care these past decades.”
Donna hesitated for only a second. What did she have to lose? It was only a cup. A roughly carved wooden cup; nothing special to look at, with no indication of its importance. It wasn’t like it could hurt her. And what could the Wood Queen possibly have planned? The only real risk was that the cup wasn’t the real artifact. Of course, that would be bad, but no matter which way she looked at it, Donna was sure the queen had nothing to gain by deceiving her. Not this time.
If nothing else, Donna believed that Aliette did want to go back to Faerie. She wanted to save her people.
Sometimes you have to take a chance, no matter what the consequences are. Donna seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. First with the trip to Faerie, and now this—accepting something that seemed far too easy. To think that the Wood Queen wanted the same end result as she did was sort of crazy, but also … plausible. In this case.
Aliette had been watching her examine the cup. “I see your doubt, and while I understand it, it will not take you long to verify the authenticity of the artifact.”
Donna placed the cup next to the Ouroboros Blade in her messenger bag. “Fine,” she said. “Thank you, I guess.”
“Do not thank me. I would end you, if I could. I would gladly end all alchemists in payment for the deaths they have dealt my kind over the centuries. That is the nature of war.” Aliette smiled her wicked smile. “But I also know when it is time to retreat. An effective leader always understands that.” She pointed along the path, behind Donna. “Take the left-hand fork and keep walking. You will eventually reach the human road.”
Aliette swept away, her elves scuttling in her wake.
Donna wondered if she would ever see the Wood Queen again. She hoped not, but as Aliette herself had said, they were at war. All of them. You never knew who you might meet on the path to freedom.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, jolting her out of her thoughts. She’d forgotten about such mundane things as cell phones. She was surprised it still worked, after its trip to Faerie. Digging it out of her jeans, Donna stared at the caller display … and smiled. She hit the “answer” button.
“Navin?”
“Hey, Don.” His voice was distorted through the crackle of a bad connection. “Um … I hate to play damsel in distress here, but I need your help.”
“Where are you?”
He told her and Donna didn’t hesitate. If he was in trouble, it was her fault. She grabbed the edge of her power and began unraveling it, wrapping herself in the glowing strands. Leaning against a wide tree trunk, she dug deep into her soul and pulled.
Eighteen
Donna was on the other side of town, in a cemetery.
But which one? There were plenty in Ironbridge. And where was Navin? She’d focused on him as hard as she could. If her teleporting power had worked the way it usually did, Navin should be here.
She turned a slow circle, straining her ears for any sign of life, but the whole graveyard was quiet.
&n
bsp; Donna buttoned her coat and shivered in the cold air. She spotted tall iron railings and a sign. It seemed she was close to the exit. She took a step in that direction, fighting a vague feeling of nausea after the strange trip.
A loud groan stopped her in her tracks.
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She whirled, trying to pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from. Now someone coughed—and kept coughing. It didn’t sound healthy.
“Nav?” she whisper-shouted.
Was Demian tricking her? She didn’t trust him not to be following her around, and half expected demon shadows to jump out of the real shadows.
“Help me,” called the voice, followed by another round of staccato coughs.
She froze, searching the darkness of the cemetery as her eyes adjusted. There was no moon—or if there was, it was completely blanketed in cloud—and the burial ground didn’t have any kind of nighttime lighting. The gates would undoubtedly be locked, and she’d have to climb to get out if things did go bad.
She took a quick breath and ran toward whoever was in pain. Was it Navin? Maybe Demian had hurt him. Or perhaps Simon had caught him sneaking around trying to get hold of Newton. She should never have asked him to help her!
Spotting a crumpled shape beside a freshly dug grave, Donna jogged over, slipping on the frosted grass.
Whoever it was, he was lying dangerously close to the edge of the grave. She stayed a few steps away, just in case, and crouched down beside the figure. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t defend herself if it turned out to be some kind of con.
And then her heart stuttered as she realized that the person on the ground was wearing a familiar red and black biker jacket. He rolled over, a lock of black hair falling across one eye as he squinted up at her.
“Donna?”
“Navin!” She scrambled forward. “Oh my god, Nav. Let me help you. It’s okay, I’m here.”
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