This time it was Peter and Mags who exchanged a look. “Oh, I know it,” Mags breathed, lifting her chin and folding her arms over her chest.
Peter’s voice was the firmest Poppy had ever heard it. “Mags keeps all her promises. Everyone knows better than to break their word to her.”
Hope stung her heart. With Mags and Peter’s help they could find her parents faster … and Poppy knew what it was like to have questions. If that was their price, she would gladly pay it. Knowledge is the enemy of fear. Her father had written those words in the margins of his journal—more than once—as if it were a prayer, or a reminder.
Poppy held out her hand to Mags. “We’ll see you here in two hours when Strange Hollow has settled for the night. But keep it quiet. If anyone follows you that shouldn’t, we might have to run again, and then our deal is off.”
Mags nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
Mack leaned forward. “If you’re lucky, our other friend will come too. She’s a pooka.”
Peter’s jaw dropped and Mags dragged him away at a run.
Poppy glared at him. “Why did you say that? Nula’s not here anymore—and we don’t need her.”
“Oh come on, Poppy. We need all the help we can get. And Nula wants to make up for what she’s done.”
“But—”
“Anyway,” Mack insisted. “When I talked to Nula before … I told her not to give up. I told her she should stay close. She said she’d camp out just past the standing stone at the edge of the Grimwood.”
“You did what?”
Mack’s cheeks flushed. “She’s our friend, Poppy. It’s not like we have dozens of those lying around—that we can just stay angry at when they make a mistake.”
“A mistake that cost me Dog.”
His hand dropped onto her shoulder. “I miss them too, but in the end, it was your bargain … not Nula’s.”
Poppy’s stomach turned. “Are you saying it’s my fault the Faery Queen took Dog?”
“I’m saying it’s not anyone’s fault but the Faery Queen’s.” He paused. “Mistakes were made. All that means is that we need each other more than ever.”
Poppy chewed the inside of her cheek. When she tasted blood, she relented. “Fine. Let’s go get her.”
Mack’s smile almost made the decision worthwhile. His whole face lit up. “Good,” he said.
Poppy gave him a look, but followed it with an eye roll, so Mack knew she wasn’t really angry. She hated to admit it, but she missed Nula. The pain of losing Dog hadn’t made her miss Nula less. Plus, the pooka was crafty, and she could use her help. Especially now. Whatever the governor had up his sleeve, she didn’t think he would wait long. They had to find her parents now.
Dusk was falling and the Grimwood was shifting into shadow, but Poppy could make out Nula’s silhouette beyond the tall stone that marked the wood’s boundary. If she turned a little more and looked up the sloping hills of the meadow, she could see the lines of her house, the sun golden in the small front windows, and across the windows of her tower. She blinked and looked away. Hopefully Jute would get back soon. It wasn’t home without him.
Mack lifted his hand, and Nula stepped out of the shadows, smiling. Poppy and Mack stepped past the stone and into the forest to join her.
There was a strange spinning sensation, and the temperature dropped. Goose bumps broke out all over Poppy’s skin. She tried to make sense of what she was seeing as she looked around, and the goose bumps broke out a second time. They were in a wide clearing that hadn’t been there a moment before. Nula was nowhere to be found.
Poppy spun around to stare at Mack, but he looked as perplexed as she felt. “Where are we?” she asked. There was no sign of the meadow, no flower-covered hillside, no hint of her house.
Mack looked around wildly, then froze.
Poppy followed his gaze. He was staring at the standing stone. It was the only thing vaguely familiar about their surroundings.
“The stone,” she breathed. “So … was Nula … Nula was right! The stones really can take you to other parts of the forest.”
The carvings on this stone were different. It had spirals, while the other was covered in small concave circles.
Mack reached out one hand as if he would touch it, but pulled back at the last moment. “But where are we?” He looked around, trying to get his bearings. “Where did it take us? And why?”
His words echoed in Poppy’s head. She could see the whites of his eyes, and seeing Mack look frightened raised the hair on the back of her neck. There must be a reason they’d ended up here, but the chances of it being a good reason … well, they weren’t high.
Dusk was over, and darkness had fallen in this place—as if they had moved not just through the wood, but through time too. The glowing silhouettes of tall white birches surrounded the clearing. Fireflies filled the gloom. Their flickers filled the air with a soft glow and unexpected brightness.
Mack took a few steps ahead and looked back again. “Do you have anything with you? Any salt? Anything to form a barrier.”
Poppy shook her head. “My pack is in the meadow.” She swallowed. “You?”
“We should go. Now. Head toward the outer edge of the Grimwood and whatever Hollow is on the other side.”
Poppy shivered. The idea that Mack didn’t know where they were made her brain hurt. It was like trying to imagine the sea wasn’t wet, and suddenly all she wanted was to get out of the wood.
They hurried into the trees beyond the clearing, back toward where they should have been all along. Poppy trusted Mack’s instincts to lead them toward home.
“Don’t go!” a soft voice cried out, drifting over the boggy grass. “Please! Wait!”
Poppy spun.
“No! Just leave it, Poppy. It’s dark. You can’t trust anything now.”
“Help me, child. I beg you. Help me!”
“Mack, someone needs our help. We can’t just leave.”
“We can,” he said, but Poppy was already drifting across the clearing in the direction the voice had come from.
The fireflies gathered, dancing in front of her, shifting and blinking, lighting her way, and leading her toward the voice.
“Please, help. Follow my voice! I need you.”
Mack was suddenly behind her. “Poppy, I thought these were fireflies, but they’re not. They’re wisps.”
She stopped walking. “Those nasty little things that lead people into swamps? They can’t be. These are just fireflies.”
“The ground is wet, Poppy … I think we’re at the edge of a swamp now. And come here—look!” He held up his hand, a soft glow sifting from between his fingers. He uncurled them as Poppy leaned in. The creature in his hand was small and delicate—a soft neon green with lacy wings and tiny features that blurred in and out with the light.
“It’s a … a tiny person, with wings.”
“Poppy, please. Listen to me. This is a wisp. The will of the wisp is to lead people into traps. You can’t follow them.”
Poppy paused to let his words sink in. He was asking her to trust him. “Okay. I won’t—”
A whistling sound whipped the air, and a thorny black tendril wrapped around Mack’s arm, yanking him back.
“Mack!” Poppy cried. Where had it even come from?
She searched the glade desperately as Mack tugged at the whip, but she couldn’t see any thorn trees. A second whip struck, wrapping around his calf. He cried out.
Poppy pulled her knife from her boot and lifted it to slice the whip around his arm, but when the voice sounded again, it was as though an arrow pierced her heart. “Pleeeease!”
She should be running toward the voice. What was she even doing here—trying to help this person who was obviously somewhere he didn’t belong?
“Child! I need you!”
Poppy stood frozen, staring at the boy stuck in the whips for long seconds—trying to figure out who he was. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
“
Child!”
Another whip struck the strange boy, and he snatched the knife from her hand, slicing through one of the whips. She spun away and began to walk toward the sound of the voice.
“Poppy!” the boy’s voice rang out. “NO! Don’t listen! Put your fingers in your ears. Sing! Anything!”
Mack! The sound of his voice brought Poppy back to her senses, but she couldn’t seem to make her feet stop walking. Her stomach lurched. “I can’t stop!”
“Plug your ears,” he called. “Sing! Loud!”
Poppy shoved her fingers in her ears.
“Come here! Come here!” the voice called over and over like an echo.
Her fingers dulled the voice, and Poppy’s steps slowed, but it wasn’t enough.
She began to sing a song from the Hollows at the top of her lungs—something about dark nights and bountiful harvests. Her feet slowed more, but still she inched forward, as behind her, Mack struggled to get loose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
In front of her, out of the shadows of the trees, a form emerged, tall and willowy. As the shape grew closer, Poppy saw it was a woman. Everything about her was pale and cold. Blue veins ran up her forearms. Her eyes, the color of ice, gave off a faint glow. White-blond hair floated around her, as if she moved in water.
Poppy tried to step back, but her feet wouldn’t listen. They inched her closer, then closer again. Behind her she could hear Mack shouting and struggling to get free, but she couldn’t stay focused. She kept forgetting who he was … what she was doing, her attention drawn back to the stranger.
Mack was yelling something, but she couldn’t make it out, his voice fading in and out as the woman drew nearer. The wisps hovered around Poppy like a swarm, their light shaking and shifting.
The ground grew wetter, squelching under her feet. When she was just beyond an arm’s reach, the woman shivered with excitement. She reached out a long finger and touched Poppy’s cheek.
Poppy jerked.
She was in her kitchen. Jute was there, making cookies. Her mother and father were there, laughing and looking … at her. She tried to speak but couldn’t. The scene went on as though she was part of it—warm, happy, and together. Everything she had ever wanted. “Come with me.” The cold voice tickled her ear. “Come with me, and all of it can be yours. I can give it to you.”
Poppy trembled. Her mother reached out and took her hand. Her father gazed at her with pride in his eyes. Her heart turned over.
“Just follow. Follow the sound of my voice.”
Poppy took a step forward.
“That’s it. Come on.”
Another step.
A cry behind her startled her out of the reverie. She shook her head and opened her eyes. When had they drifted shut?
In front of her the woman had changed. Her icy eyes blazed and her wide smile had grown even wider, sharp teeth gleaming.
Poppy pulled away, just as Mack appeared at her side, his arm and opposite leg bleeding badly. He snatched her up, and instantly Poppy’s head cleared.
The woman screeched, reaching out her arms to grab Poppy, but Mack was too fast.
“Mack! Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he breathed, running with her across the clearing toward the edge of the birch trees. Poppy looked back over his shoulder. The strange woman stood where she was—not chasing them.
Why? “Mack?”
Mack launched them into the trees—away from the clearing.
And they reentered the same clearing again, behind the woman.
Mack spun, confused.
“Put me down,” Poppy said.
He put her down, and they turned as one to hurry back into the wood.
And reappeared on the far side of the clearing, looking toward the woman. Poppy grabbed his hand and they turned again, running this time.
And nearly ran into her. The woman had stepped closer to the edge of the trees, her eyes glowing.
Mack handed her knife back and pulled his own. “We’re trapped.”
The woman’s slow smile grew as she crept closer. It reached from one ear to the other.
The wisps filled the air around them, jiggling and dancing until Poppy began to feel seasick.
The woman reached out a finger—
And a roar filled the clearing.
A tiger—huge and dark brown with blue stripes—threw itself onto the woman, knocking her to the ground and putting out her light.
The clearing vanished, leaving nothing but tall dark pines and a few thorn trees tucked into the shadows among them.
“Nula?” Poppy breathed.
“Come on!” Nula was up and running, and they didn’t ask questions. The three of them ran through the trees together, into the darkness, away from the monster and her wisps. Poppy noticed that Nula stayed with them as herself while they ran, like they were a team. She wasn’t shifting into another form.
“What was that?” Poppy gasped.
Nula panted. “It might have been a bog witch, but I think it was a lamia. I didn’t even know we had one of those in the wood.”
Mack was limping. The thorn tree had left huge gashes on his leg. “I’ve heard of them,” he said. “They’re the ones that eat people?”
“Children,” Nula clarified. “They eat children.”
“Gross.” Poppy shuddered.
Nula followed Poppy’s shiver with her own. “Yeah. They do it out of loneliness.”
Poppy’s breath was raw in her throat, but they kept running. Anything to put distance between themselves and the bog.
Finally, Poppy got a stitch in her side and had to stop. Mack was limping so badly he might as well have been hopping. “That’s enough,” she declared. “I can’t run anymore.”
Nula looked at Mack. “Think we’re safe?”
He looked around at the dark Grimwood. “Well, no. But I think we’re safe from whatever that was.”
“Where do you think we are?” Poppy asked.
“Oh, I can tell you that,” Nula said. “We’re about three miles west of your house … and two miles toward the center of the wood.”
Poppy stared at her. “How did you find us?”
Nula lifted her chin, her gold eyes bright. “I tracked you.”
After a moment Poppy reached out to take Nula’s hand. “Thank you.”
Tears filled Nula’s eyes. Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m … I’m so sorry, Poppy. About what I did. About Dog.” A blue tear rolled down her cheek. “I can’t even tell you how sorry I am—about everything.”
Poppy whisked away a tear of her own with the back of her hand. “I know.” She couldn’t bring herself to say more.
“So,” Mack interrupted. “A tiger, eh?”
Nula broke into a shy smile. “Wanna see?”
Poppy and Mack both nodded, and a tiger paced in front of them—its back as tall as Poppy’s waist. Nula’s stripes remained, and the gold of her eyes. Poppy could see her looking out through them. Nula let out a roar that shook the trees and set Poppy’s knees quaking. She laughed.
Then the pooka stood in front of them again, her cheeks flushed. “It’s my form, I think,” she confided. “It feels different from the others. I feel—strong.”
Mack clapped her on the back. Nula turned to look up at him, her eyes widening slightly. “You’re taller.”
He grinned. “I had a growth surge.”
“Right in the middle of Strange Hollow,” Poppy finished.
“No!”
“Yes.” He snorted. “Couldn’t have been worse.”
Nula grimaced. “I bet. The humans must have pitched a fork.”
Mack smiled. “A fit, you mean.”
Poppy laughed. “Let’s get back. We have a date to keep, and I don’t know about you two, but I’d rather not hang around.”
Nula frowned. “A date?”
“We’ll fill you in on the way,” Poppy replied, hurrying to keep up with Mack’s long strides as they headed east toward home.
“Start at the beginning,” Nula said, pushing ahead to get in front of Mack.
They filled Nula in on all that had happened—and on the children’s promise to help.
The Grimwood stayed quiet—almost peaceful as they trudged along, exhaustion heavy around them. Poppy took a deep breath. The air was full of the scent of pine. The Grimwood’s spike frogs thrummed from high branches, quieting as Poppy and her friends passed beneath them. Tentaculars along the tree trunks and on fallen limbs waved their colorful tentacles through the air. An owl called in the distance.
Poppy thought about the vision the lamia had shown her. She had known, even while it was happening, that it wasn’t real. Maybe she could recognize it as false because what she wanted now, more than anything, was something that felt real. She didn’t want a dream. She wanted something that felt like her own life—something that matched her and was meant for her—even if it wasn’t what she had hoped for when she was smaller.
Before—before she’d entered the Grimwood—it was as if her questions and her yearning was all of who she was. But that had fallen away, a little bit at a time. It wasn’t that all her questions had been answered. It was just that she knew she and her friends could find the answers she needed—and that they would be there by her side. Warmth rushed through her, despite the chill lacing the night air.
At last they reached the edge of the Grimwood and toppled into the meadow. The clearing in the forest had been dark, but out of the wood, dusk was just falling. Her house stood in deepening shadow, the windows dark. It almost hurt to look at it, knowing all its rooms were empty and uncertain. The evening was warm, and the moon was rising, bright and friendly.
Mack threw himself down on the ground. “The curfew must be in effect by now. The kids will be here soon. We should try and rest a little.”
Poppy’s thoughts spun out like webs, sticky and relentless. They had to find her parents—and find out what the governor was planning to do to the wood. There was no time to waste. It was torture to sit here and just … wait. “Yeah.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Pretty sure rest is not going to be a thing for me.” She turned to Nula. “Could I … maybe have another look at that book?”
The Edge of Strange Hollow Page 22