The Faery Queen moved on, her predatory smile the only answer. “You also asked if I knew how to find the Soul Jar. And. I. Do.
“I do indeed. I know a great deal more than that, in fact.”
She turned back to Poppy, the full force of her attention falling on Poppy’s fist where it closed around the small blue bottle. “Not only can I tell you where the Soul Jar is. I can tell you who made it … and what it holds … and I can tell you who used it.”
Poppy couldn’t breathe. She raised her fist and uncurled her fingers. The little blue bottle lay in her palm, cool against the thin scab that had formed when Nula broke her blood ward. A fine mist swirled inside the bottle. “This … this is the Soul Jar?” Her voice was a whisper.
“It is.” The queen’s voice was smug.
Poppy stared at the queen. Her voice was strained. “It was you. You made the Soul Jar. You changed the malediction.”
The queen snapped her fingers in the air. “As easy as any blood ward. I can’t believe no one ever thought of it before.” She laughed. “Well, I can.”
“Blood makes the rules in the wood.” Poppy swallowed, her gaze fixing on the bottle with slow horror. “And we—I used it to catch the Valkyries’ song? But … it’s called the Soul Jar.” Poppy hated the pleading tone in her own voice, but she couldn’t control it. “It’s the Soul Jar … and this is a song … not a soul.”
“What is a song, if not the expression of a soul?” The queen’s smile grew sickly sweet at the look on Poppy’s face. She patted Poppy’s cheek with an icy cold hand. “Never mind, dear. You couldn’t have known. What use do the Valkyries have for souls of their own? None at all! They’re immortal, after all.
“But the Valkyries’ song is another matter. All songs have some power, but their song? Their song is one of the greatest weapons ever made. They say it is forged from little pieces of the souls they collect in the heat of battle.” She tipped her chin at the bottle, clasping her hands at her back. “So … I’m afraid what you took from them was not really a song at all.”
“Their song is made of souls?” Mack gulped. “We took people’s souls?”
The queen’s eyes flashed. “Indeed, you did. And you did very well too!” Her voice held pride—and not in them.
“Don’t give it to her,” Nula called from behind Poppy. “You don’t have to! You already paid her.”
Her friend’s words were like a switch. All Poppy’s pain—her anguish over Dog, the shock of being tricked into taking the Valkyries’ song of souls—all of it ignited. But before she could use it to set fire to the world, the Faery Queen leaped forward and slapped Nula. The crack of her palm against Nula’s cheek ricocheted through the trees.
Nula cried out, and fell back as Mack let out a snarl, and moved to step between them. Poppy gave a horrified gasp.
The queen stalked around them. “You should think carefully before you risk yourself to protect this creature.” Her voice came from deep in her chest and sounded old … and angry.
“Leave her alone,” Mack said, pushing Nula behind him.
They had to get out of here. Poppy gritted her teeth and turned to Mack and Nula, her fingers rubbing at the half-healed wound on her palm. Mack gave her a puzzled look, his gaze dropping to her hands. Understanding flooded his eyes.
Poppy waited. She wouldn’t make the choice recklessly. She wanted Mack with her every step of the way.
“Do it!” Nula cried, catching on, and Mack nodded.
Without a word Poppy tore open the wound, letting her blood cover the Soul Jar. At the same time, she cried, “You will harm none! You will harm none! You will harm none!”
The Faery Queen’s face registered shock as Poppy pulled out the stopper and released the Valkyries’ song.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A whistling sound filled the glade. Everyone froze, preparing for a blow. For several long moments nothing happened. The queen’s expression lengthened. Deep lines of withheld fury distorted her expression, but she held her troops steady with a raised hand—watching.
It wasn’t anything like being up on the cliff with the Valkyries. There was no pressure in the air—no sense of something gathering. Was the song useless, then, without the Valkyries there to wield it? The forces of the Fae army, all gathered in neat rows behind the queen, shuffled and shifted.
The wood remained quiet, and Mack began to tug Poppy back. The shadows of the Faery Queen’s face grew longer still, and she drew a slender blade out of thin air. Four more spiders with handmaidens on their backs moved forward to stand behind the queen. Poppy counted seven of them in the glade now, the dim evening light reflecting in each of their eight black eyes.
She looked down at the little bottle, still clutched in her bloody palm. She’d undone the malediction … but maybe the song wasn’t loose yet. Poppy searched the wood for anything that could help. A large stone leaned against the white birch next to Mack, and without another thought, Poppy lifted the bottle and smashed it against the stone.
It shattered with the chime of breaking glass, and then came a sucking sound, like the breaking of a seal, and the Valkyries appeared, hovering above the trees, answering the call of their own magic in an instant. They dropped out of the sky, landing in crouches, their armor too bright to see.
She, Mack, and Nula were somehow behind the Valkyries. They could have turned and run … or hidden, but Poppy couldn’t retreat without clearing the air.
“I’m sorry, Brynne,” she called, and the Valkyrie commander, still crouched, motionless, turned her head—the only sign that she heard.
Poppy hurried to say what had to be said. “The Faery Queen told me the bottle would only catch some of your song. She tricked me. I meant no harm. Please accept my apology.” Her throat tightened as she added, “She took Dog—my cerberus.”
The sharp line of the Valkyrie’s jaw clenched and she rose to her feet, turning her face back to the Fae. There was no telling what the commander of the Valkyries might have said in response, because at that moment, the queen let out a yowl like the cry of a cat, and attacked.
Poppy jumped, stumbling, but Mack hauled her up again. Nula was a panther at her side.
“Run!” Poppy said, and they ran, the clash of metal ringing through the woods behind them, and a rising wail in the wind.
She didn’t look back, but to either side of them Poppy could see spiders through the trees, keeping pace with them, as the handmaidens in their black saddles watched.
“They’re waiting for us to get tired,” Mack shouted.
“What are we going to do?” Poppy gasped.
Nula let out a fierce roar.
“She’s right,” Mack said, panting for breath. “We’ll have to fight. How’s your aim?”
Her lungs burned already, but Poppy stammered, “Th—the net gun? What good will that do?”
They veered left as Mack led the way. “Lots, if you hit the spiders’ legs,” he called back. “The handmaidens won’t leave them, even if the spiders fall.” He launched over a fallen log, turning to make sure Poppy cleared it too. “My mother says they’re connected somehow.”
Poppy shivered—whether it was from the breeze against her sweat-covered skin, or the thought of being bonded to a gigantic spider, it was hard to say.
The spiders weren’t getting closer—weren’t attacking—but they were staying near, the handmaidens’ black eyes never moving from their quarry.
Poppy reached back as they ran, tugging the net gun free. Aiming was almost impossible. There was no break in the trees, and Poppy lost two nets trying to aim between them. “This isn’t working! We need a clearing!”
Nula snarled and pulled in front, leading them away to the east.
“There.” Mack pointed ahead of them. “The trees thin out over there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Nope! But Nula seems to know what she’s doing.” The panther’s paws kicked up dirt, and the spiders stayed with them to either side.
The trees did thin ou
t, and Poppy quickly took aim, firing a net at one of the three spiders to her right. It wrapped around two of the spider’s legs, toppling it so that it rolled, end over end, throwing its handmaiden from the saddle. “One down!” Poppy whooped.
But she was out of breath. It was getting harder.
“Keep going,” Mack wheezed. There was a hiss from her left and one of the handmaidens lifted something, pointing it at Poppy. She dodged, just as a blob of black goo flew past her and hit a tree.
“What is that stuff?”
“Web, I think,” Mack panted. “Hit another one, Poppy. Hurry. We can’t keep this up much longer, and there are a lot more of them.”
Poppy aimed at the one that had shot at them, and missed. One quick look at the cartridge told her she only had three nets left.
She aimed again—and this time hit one of the spiders to her left—though still not the one that had shot at them. “There are five still chasing us,” she yelled, tripping over a stick, and catching herself just in time.
Silently, two of the spiders broke away, peeling out of the trees to run behind Mack and Poppy.
Poppy’s throat was raw. Something hit her in the back, hardening instantly. She stumbled forward with a grunt. It was harder to breathe now. She caught sight of thorn trees in the distance. Another glob of web flew past—this time from the right, and this time, it hit Mack.
It had a cord.
Without pausing to think, Poppy pulled her knife and sliced the cord. All she could think of was the thorn trees, with their whips that reeled you in. She wasn’t going to let these handmaidens get their hands on Mack.
Another thwack as a glob hit the back of her knee. “Mack!” she cried out as it hardened, making it impossible to bend. She fell forward.
With a grunt he threw her over his shoulder, and put on a burst of speed.
“Head to the thorn grove,” Poppy called as his shoulder dug into her guts. There was a pause, and then she felt him nod.
“Nula! Follow us,” she cried, and forced the top of her body to lift so she could aim the net gun. Without having to focus on running, she hit one of the spiders directly behind them, and then the other.
“Three left,” she called to Mack as the last of the spiders and handmaidens moved behind them, chasing them down.
The trees cleared. Black soil and old scattered bones crunched under Mack’s feet. Thorn trees glittered all around them, stretching as far as they could see.
Mack had slowed.
Nula raced past.
“Keep going!” Poppy shouted. “Don’t stop for anything!” She pushed her hands into Mack’s lower back, straining to see behind them. Her net gun—empty now—was still clasped in her hand. She held her breath, then let it out again as the last three spiders followed them in.
As if the pounding of all those feet had woken the thorn grove up, whips smashed the ground behind and in front of them. Mack half ran and half danced to avoid them.
The spiders were huge targets with nowhere to hide. Their handmaidens didn’t last long. The whips plucked them off the spiders’ backs, wrapping them in coils as they flew through the air.
The handmaidens didn’t make a sound.
The spiders kept pushing forward, but didn’t last much longer. The first one got wrapped in the whips of two different trees that wrestled for their prize.
Poppy looked away, squeezing her eyes shut.
Mack was breathing hard. “Hold on, Poppy,” he said. “We’re almost through.”
A few more seconds, and they would be safe on the other side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
They fell out of the thorn grove and onto the forest floor, panting and sweaty. Mack closed his eyes, his face contorted with pain. Poppy’s head pounded from bouncing as Mack ran, but she blew out a breath and turned to examine Mack’s face. “Thanks,” she whispered.
His copper eyes cracked open, and he gave her a twitch of a smile. His cheeks were flushed. “Thanks yourself,” he said.
She grinned at him.
Nula lay on her back, clutching her tail to her chest and staring up through the canopy. Dusk had fallen, and shadows played over her face like thoughts.
They all grew quiet.
The wood was thick with the scent of pine, and high in the trees, the spike frogs thrummed their drone-like song. Poppy picked at the thick black glob behind her knee.
Now that they had survived the battle—the events of the last few hours were catching up to her. The glob peeled away, leaving her skin raw and angry. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. They kept coming, and she let out a broken sob.
“Poppy?” Mack sat up.
“Are you hurt?” Nula put a hand on her back.
“She took Dog! Dog’s gone!” Nula snatched her hand back as Poppy buried her forehead into her knees and wept. “We could have died! I could have gotten all of us killed. Oh, Dog!”
Mack’s hand settled on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Pop. I’m so sorry. I should have tried harder. I should have grabbed them sooner. I—I could almost break that web. If I had—”
“No, Mack.” Poppy sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve. “There’s nothing you could have done. If I had just listened to you in the first place—” She choked back another wave of tears.
“Listen, Poppy.” Mack’s voice was strained. “I know it’s not much … but they’ll take really good care of Dog. They’ll be safe—until we can figure out how to get them back.”
Poppy blew out a deep breath and stood up. “You’re right. And we have to find Mom and Dad. Do you think the Faery Queen might be right about them being in the Hollows?”
“Yes,” Nula said.
“Maybe,” Mack drew out at the same time.
“Why would someone take them? Why would they do that?” I would be so scared if it was me. Poppy tried to imagine her parents scared, then shook the thought away. It made her nauseous.
She flashed on the image of Governor Gale’s sneering expression as he loomed over her in town. Her memory shifted back years, and she heard his voice from where she had stood listening behind the kitchen door. “One day, you won’t be so smug,” he’d said. “One day someone will teach you a lesson.”
She wiped her face again and met Mack’s gaze. “The governor really doesn’t like us,” she admitted. “But he’s still a human being. And he’s still the governor. I don’t think he’d let people get away with violence. And even if he doesn’t want to help my parents … or me, he won’t allow people to break the law in Strange Hollow, right?”
“The part I don’t understand,” Mack said, ignoring her question, “is, why would humans take your parents in the first place. What’s the point?”
“’Cause it’s their fault,” Nula said.
Both Mack and Poppy stared at her. Poppy pressed her lips tight. “What do you mean—”
“I mean, that’s not what I think,” the pooka assured her. “But I’d bet my own blood that it’s what they think in the Hollows. Humans are always looking for someone to blame, and people in Strange Hollow think your parents are in league with the Grimwood, right? That they’re spies, or that they have something to do with the maledictions taking people? Well, maybe they decided to do something about it.”
Mack’s face fell. “Sounds plausible to me, Poppy.”
Poppy frowned. “Well, there have been a lot of maledictions lately.”
“More than usual?” Nula asked.
“Yes—I think so. And they did put up all those new wards,” Poppy admitted. “But the governor is brand-new!” She threw her hands up. “And he keeps telling people he’s going to ‘make the woods fair.’ Blaming the people trying to help is not fair!”
Mack leaned against a tree. “My mom says that fair is like beauty. Just depends who’s judging.”
Nula’s face was sad. “They’re just afraid. Fear turns all the other feelings into hate.”
Poppy began to pace. “So … maybe we just need to try and pr
ove to them that my parents are on their side.”
Mack grimaced. “I mean, your parents have been telling them that for years. Why would they believe us?”
They fell silent again. After a minute Poppy asked, “Well then, what about that other stuff the Faery Queen said, the stuff about the maledictions being connected to the Holly Oak? If that’s true, we could—”
Nula sniffed. “Like I said, faeries don’t lie.”
Mack snorted. “Yeah, but you can bet there’s more to the story.”
The story! The promise of Prudence Barebone! Poppy gasped. “I know what to do.”
* * *
Despite all of them being jumpy and Mack threatening to set a circle for the night after every few steps, they all followed the sound of the river. It didn’t take very long, but even so, it was all-the-way dark by the time they found another dock. Poppy wondered if there was a limit to how many times you could ride with the Boatman before he shoved you off the boat. She grimaced, glad that at least Jute had given her plenty of coins. It hadn’t gotten any less scary, but cutting through the water under the storm of the Boatman’s laughter had taken on a dreamlike, déjà-vu quality. She thought he might finally speak when he noticed that Dog was gone … but his eyes only flashed, and his laughter carried a cruel edge that she hadn’t noticed before.
Poppy needed to go to the Holly Oak one last time—and this time she was going to get some real answers. She just hoped the Oak could be trusted. She wanted the Holly Oak to give a merry laugh and tell them that the Faery Queen could lie just like anyone else … and that of course she wasn’t behind the maledictions. If it turned out to be true, her parents wouldn’t be the only ones in trouble. Regardless, Poppy knew in her gut that somehow Prudence’s promise and the disappearance of her parents were connected. She just couldn’t see how yet.
The moon had risen by the time they were safely on the island. Its thin crescent had a gleam sharp as any knife’s. The three of them stared at the stairs curling all the way up the Holly Oak. Nula nudged her, which Poppy took to mean that the pooka was ready for another dash up the stairs, if such was deemed necessary. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, or when exactly, but the pooka had become someone Poppy could count on … someone she did count on—a friend. Poppy smiled at her. For just a second, with Mack standing nearby too, she had the sense that with the three of them together they might be able to fix things.
The Edge of Strange Hollow Page 18