L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set

by R. S. Collins

  Jazz handled herself like a pro, swallowing her bite of biscuit and calmly sipping orange juice before she answered. “Bren made a binding agreement with the harpies. We have to rescue their children from Alderon’s trap.”

  “You. Deal.” Dad sounded like a malfunctioning telephone recording. “Harpies?” He pointed to my bandaged hand. “Didn’t you learn—that’s still not even healed!”

  Sherise wrapped her fingers around her moonstone. She glanced from purple-faced Dame Corey, to Jazz, to me, then to my father, who was pulling on his beard and hair at the same time. Then she got up and fled.

  “Sherise!” Jazz jumped to her feet as the front door slammed. “I didn’t want to upset her.”

  “She is the least of your worries!” her mother roared.

  Jazz actually looked confused.

  I crammed eggs in my mouth as fast as I could, given my hand problem, anticipating the eggs or me getting turned into something I wouldn’t want to eat. If I hurried, I might get to leave with a full stomach.

  Dame Corey turned the skin-boiling force of her glare at me. I wolfed my entire stack of bacon and reached for a biscuit before sparks flew and the biscuit went running off the table, twitching whiskers and a tail.

  I heard a loud crack, and I was suddenly staring at everyone’s shoes. I twitched my nose and glanced around to see a long, slick rat’s tail attached to my backside, which was gray fur now.

  “Mother!” Jazz’s shout was so loud I cringed, but not before I caught the scent of a nice fat bunch of crumbs near my dad and darted toward them. “We don’t have time for this.”

  The air around me hummed, and my body tingled as my magic joined with Jazz’s intentions. One second later, I was licking Dad’s shoe.

  “Oh. Sorry.” I shook off that rat-feeling and managed to get back in my chair before Dame Corey turned me into a slug. This time, at least, I landed in my own plate so I could keep eating.

  “Mother!”

  Crack!

  I was sitting in my plate, which broke and poked me in the butt.

  “I cannot believe—”

  Pop!

  Dad caught me against his chest, despite my hideous possum-teeth and claws.

  Jazz snarled in frustration. “Stop it.”

  Pow!

  I remembered Dad’s lap being a lot bigger the last time I sat in it.

  “Now, Winnie,” this from Dad. Bad move. I would have thought he had better sense.

  Zing-snap!

  Dad and I wriggled on the floor gazing at each other through lidless snake eyes.

  “Ssssssssshhhh,” I hissed. “Are you nuts or something?”

  Thwack! Thock!

  Jazz managed to fire at exactly the same time as her mother, leaving Dad and me standing with our heads through a matching set of stocks. We were human, except for what felt like very long horse tails flicking against each other from somewhere behind. The destroyed remnants of the breakfast and the table lay scattered underneath our feet. Well, I had one foot. The other was a horse’s hoof.

  Horse. Donkey. Hey. It was close to a previous embarrassment I had endured at Jazz’s hands, before we fought Nire. That did it.

  “Enough!” I yelled. I managed to wriggle both of my wrists, touch Jazz’s arm with one outstretched finger, and make a major draw on our shared power as I barked commands.

  Silver and gold sparks flared. The stocks exploded into dust and swirled out of the kitchen. My tail and Dad’s tail disappeared, and both my feet felt normal again. I was about to let go of the spellwork when Jazz’s energy surged. The table repaired itself, and the broken dishes and food vanished. In seconds, the entire room was spotless, including my leather shirt, which had taken a beating.

  Yep. That’s my girl. Some things will never change.

  I smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and folded her arms as the gold-silver wave of magic washed down to nothing. My dad cleared his throat, but I popped him a fast elbow to the ribs to keep his mouth shut. Then I evened out my expression and faced Dame Corey.

  All in all, after the harpy, she wasn’t scary. Much.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “If there was any other way, any other choice I could see, I wouldn’t have agreed. Saving those kid-monsters from Alderon is the right thing to do, and Jazz and I have to go together, but I swear to you, I’ll throw myself into death head first before I let anything happen to her.”

  Dame Corey’s eyes dropped to my bandaged hand. I swallowed hard, feeling my face heat up from shame and a quick flash of anger. Before I could say anything, though, the woman hitched, sniffled, and burst into tears.

  Dad muttered, “Wonderful.” But he went to her and put his arms on her shoulders.

  Jazz was massaging her temples as I turned on her and growled, “Crying’s not fair. All you women know it’s not fair, but you do it anyway, don’t you?”

  “Shut up, Bren.” She zapped the biscuit-mouse into oblivion as it peered around the kitchen doorway. Then she zapped a whole bunch more stuff. Cobwebs and exploded stock dust, best I could tell. After a few deep breaths, she added, “I need to pack a few things. You—you—well. Just—deal with them. Then we need to go find Sherise and Todd.”

  “Me? Why do I have to deal with the parents?” I started to zap something of my own, but Jazz had already left the kitchen, and our connection was getting too weak.

  When I turned around, Dad was holding Dame Corey, who was still sobbing.

  I sighed. “I am sorry. Really.”

  Dad nodded. “I know. You have to do what you think is best.”

  “This is the last time we plan to leave everything in your lap.” I frowned, remembering what Jazz said the night before, about how we had to find other solutions in the future. “Our responsibilities are here, to the witches. To the Path. We get that.”

  Looking at them huddled together, thinking of how much they had lost, of how much they had been having to do for us, how much they still had to do while we went off on the rescue mission—I did get it.

  That’s when the racket started outside. Loud, high-pitched shrieking and hissing and the crackle of randomly exploding spellfire.

  It was all I could do not to let loose with a string of words that would have turned Jazz’s mom purple.

  From the front bedroom, Jazz yelled, “Bren, could you handle those blasted hags while I find my toothbrush? Crap. I think I hear a Keeper.”

  I didn’t kill her. Really, I didn’t. I just waited for her to finish jamming stuff into a canvas bag she borrowed from her mother’s closet. When I finally got her out the door, it took almost an hour to calm and disperse the crowd in the main village, and another hour to make our way to the edge of oldeTowne, toward where my little brother headquartered his zoo. We had to keep stopping, explain, convince—and we did our best not to use forceful magic on the oldeFolke. I figured Dad and Dame Corey would have enough mess to deal with without adding hard feelings on top of hard feelings.

  No sooner had we set foot between the oldeTowne huts than a group of six black-robed and hooded hags confronted us. Their obvious leader, a gnarly twisted sister with long dirty fingernails, shoved back her hood and hissed a challenge to Jazz. So did her cobra-shaped hag-spirit. Then she turned on me.

  “How dare you?” she croaked in that gravelly hag voice that always made my skin crawl when I heard it up close. “How can you set loose those murdering sons of a kracken?”

  I patiently explained the deal and why I made it, even speaking in the olde language as best I could to be polite. Unfortunately, I could tell right away that this hag could care less. She leaned forward, her snaky hag-spirit leaning with her, bobbing its cobra head.

  “Do you think I care about the children of creatures more animal than anything else, boy? Of killers weak enough to bow to whatever evil passes by?” Man, did her breath ever smell like dead onions and deader garlic. “We cast them from our ranks long ago. Let them all perish!”

  “We cannot—” Jazz began.
>
  The hag hushed her with a wicked snarl. She raised her wrinkly hand and curled her fingers to hex me, but one of the other hags stepped forward and took her by the arm. “Peace,” she pleaded, and I could tell by her sweet voice she was young. “There has been enough death, and I would not choose to see you banished for doing serious harm to another witch—to our king.”

  “King.” The older hag spat out the word like it tasted rotten. “Nigh on thirty dead, scattered through all the clans. We suffered more loss than any, but we had no voice in this accursed bargain.”

  Once more the younger hag spoke up. “Please, Herzmutter.”

  This time, the hag actually lowered her arm. Her expression gentled, but the blaze of disgust still burned in her too-black eyes.

  As for the younger one, something was off, something I couldn’t quite—wait a minute. Where was her hag-spirit?

  “Helden?” Jazz lowered her canvas bag off her shoulder. Her next words came out in German. “I’m glad you survived the destruction of Shallym.”

  The hag-girl pushed back her hood, and I realized she was human. Around Todd’s age, not bad looking for a nutcase who chose to hang out with creepy oldeFolke. She had brown braids and a dimple on her chin. A tiny blue stone glittered at her throat, hanging on a braided leather loop. The color was different from a moonstone, but for some reason, it reminded me of Sherise’s good luck charm. Jazz looked at it, too, really hard.

  “I am glad you returned from Talamadden, Your Majesty.” Helden smiled shyly. “Are you certain you must risk a journey back?”

  “Yes. After what you saw of Nire, of evil, you realize the right of this.” Jazz’s return smile was hopeful. “We should never turn our backs on truth, on justice, or mercy. If we do, we’re forever lost.”

  Helden nodded. She spoke to the older hag again, and the freaky crone finally sighed and shrugged. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, past the hag calling Helden “Herzgreldas” before patting her on the cheek. Then she raised her hood, hissed at the other four hags who did have hag-spirits, and they slithered away.

  “It’s a term of affection,” Helden explained as Jazz shouldered her bag and we once more started for Todd’s zoo. “Before I came here, I was close to a hag named Grelda who died trying to cross the old Path to stay with me. It means, more or less, Grelda’s heart.”

  “Hags have hearts?” It was out of my mouth before I could stuff it back. Jazz popped me a good one on my shoulder, but Helden only laughed.

  “They do, ja. Hard to find, and the beat sounds a little like hssss-hsssss.” She laughed some more, and it made Jazz and me smile.

  “Thank you for helping,” Jazz said. “We’ve never really been able to integrate the hags. They stay to themselves. So clannish.”

  Helden shrugged. “They’re easy enough to love once you know them. And you know, one day I’ll be hag in title, even though I wasn’t born to the blood.”

  That surprised me. “I didn’t know they took humans.”

  “It’s rare,” Jazz conceded. “But I think Helden is special. You know, Helden, things were so desperate when I first rescued you, I never asked your family name.”

  “Hartzell,” Helden answered brightly as we passed beside two big rocks signaling the start of protected slither lair grounds and Todd’s domain. “The spelling has changed across time, but the meaning is—”

  “Stag. Yes. A very old line of witches.” Jazz’s expression said, I should have known that.

  Mine probably said, What the heck?

  Right about then, I spotted Todd and Sherise sprinkling seeds on the ground to feed his cannibal quails. Seeds and—other stuff. Never mind.

  “Hey, Todd!” I waved. Sherise waved back, but Todd barely gave me a look. He did manage a grunt as we joined them, and a second grunt when Jazz introduced Helden. I got the feeling Todd already knew her, but he played that pretty low-key. Looking from Sherise to Helden, I figured I understood at least that much about his attitude. Little sucker knew how to get himself in some major trouble. I thought about grinning, but figured it would get me fed to his bloodsucking birds.

  Rol and Acaw made an appearance then, hanging back a little, eying the quail. I could tell by the look on the big guy’s face and by the way Acaw’s crow-brother hopped around that Garth the harpy was likely losing patience. I whispered as much to Jazz, then turned back to Todd.

  “Listen, we have to go to Talamadden.”

  “I heard,” he said coldly, pitching more seeds and red stuff out for the quail. I tried not to listen as they growled and chomped. “Nobody’s too happy about it.”

  Sherise gave me a nervous smile, almost apologetic. “Yeah, well, I was hoping I could count on you two to help hold down the fort until we get back.”

  Once more, Sherise smiled at us, even Helden, but Todd just pitched a bunch of gory stuff all over my shoes. “I’m not your loyal slave. Sherise and I have stuff to do. We can’t be running around playing lord king and queenie-poo.”

  Jazz stiffened at that last word. “Queenie-poo?”

  Helden grabbed Jazz’s twitching arm just like she had grabbed the hag’s. I swear the girl exuded some sort of calm potion through her skin or something, because my brother didn’t get turned into one of his psycho-gamebirds.

  “Dame Corey and Mr. McAllister will do most of the work, I’m sure.” Sherise was holding Todd by the elbow, looking more desperate. “Rol will help. It’ll be fine.”

  “Whatever,” Todd muttered.

  I so wanted to grab the little snot and take him out behind the storage barns. We’d either beat each other to death or I’d figure out what was bugging him, but we just didn’t have time now.

  “We need a couple of slithers so we can travel quickly,” Jazz said through clenched teeth. “A large one for Bren and me, and a smaller one for Acaw.”

  Todd’s glare could have lit a fire when he looked up. “No. You’re not getting one of them slaughtered just to save a little time and effort.”

  “Look, twerp, get a grip.” I pointed my bandaged hand at his face. “I’m the king and Jazz is the queen, and we need the lizards.” After a pitiful look from Sherise, I added, “Please.”

  “No!” Todd threw down his bucket of bloody seeds. The quail fell on it, snarling and flapping. Todd looked like he was about to do the same to me.

  Sherise made a nervous grab for her moonstone. “Wait! Please, Todd?”

  My brother seemed to halt in mid-lunge. His face rearranged into something calmer—still sulky and sullen, but lots more relaxed. He cut Sherise a sharp look, then let out a sigh. Helden sighed, too, and I realized she had her hand on her necklace. Jazz was glancing from Helden to Sherise, looking puzzled, and a little nervous.

  “Fine, okay.” Todd stuck a couple of his fingers in his mouth and gave two different whistles. One was long with two beats, and the other short with three. When he finished, he added, “If they get hurt, I’m taking blood for blood, and I won’t be soft on you because of that bad hand. Got it?”

  It was my turn for the “Whatever.”

  All three girls lowered their eyes and shook their heads as the ground gave a few rumbles and a shake. From the sound of the thundering footsteps, our rides were on the way, none too soon for my preference.

  Todd didn’t bother with a goodbye or a good luck or anything. He just stalked off with his mob of man-eating quail matching him step for step. Sherise gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, which earned her a brief glare from Jazz. But then Sherise gave Jazz a quick hug and hurried after Todd.

  “I think I’ll see what I can do,” Helden offered. She lifted the cowl of her black robe and glided in the direction they went. For a human, she looked awfully hag-like when you couldn’t see her face.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” I said, watching her go as Rol and Acaw made a beeline for us, along with a huge blue slither and a much smaller golden specimen.

  Jazz was rubbing the sides of her head like she already had a bad headache. “
Neither is this, but sometimes the choices suck. I mean, stink. Did I say any of that? I have lost my sanity.”

  Whatever came to mind, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say it.

  Instead, I spent my energy on giving Acaw all the proper commands so the Erlking couldn’t fry him or stick him in elfling jail once we reentered his realm. I definitely wasn’t looking forward to running into that guy again.

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  “It’s colder. And darker.” I stood inside the Path with Acaw, hugging myself as I shivered. I was tired from having to disassemble and reassemble the walls of the general store to get the harpy and slithers to the point of contact in L.O.S.T. So far, we had Garth and the small golden slither through the opening we had created, and Bren was busy shoving the big blue in from behind. Garth was helping by tugging on the creature’s neck, keeping alert for sudden blasts of fire.

  “It smells bad, too!” I shouted to Bren.

  “Probably our guests,” he shouted back as the blue one came slowly onto the ribbon through time.

  True enough, the harpy did reek, and both slithers smelled of lair dirt and droppings. Still, there was something else. Something wrong in the Path’s energy. The bright silvery walls I had seen on my return from the dead had faded to an unpleasant shade of paste, and I swear I saw faint dark patterns flittering past. When I turned to try to get a better look, they vanished as if they were never there.

  Was this my fear of Shadows? I doubted that. The look of discomfort on Acaw’s face confirmed my fears.

  “The Path has…changed,” he agreed, as if hearing my fears.

  “But not like when Nire invaded.”

  “No,” the elfling agreed. “However, you experienced more of Nire’s patterns than the rest of us. We were shielded from the worst of it.”

  Remembering the attack on Shadowbridge, the way Acaw and his crow-brother nearly surrendered their own existence to preserve mine, I couldn’t accept that. Still, arguing with an elfling was about as useful as arguing with a witch from Bren’s family.