by Molly Ringle
The intruder crouched on hands and knees, cringing up at her. Redring swung her ring back and forth. “A sad attempt. As if you could break this chain, little mortal. Only a goblin is strong enough.”
“Please.” The woman’s voice was low and serious. “I apologize. The deal, then.”
“No, Olivia Darwen!” the Fat Frog insisted overhead.
“I’ll do it, really I will,” the woman continued. “If it’ll save her…” “I think not.” Redring turned away and addressed Slide. “Escort these two humans off the premises. The fast way.”
“No!” the woman begged.
Slide and another goblin stepped forward and grabbed her arms and legs. Two more did the same with the dazed liaison.
Flowerwatch scurried back and forth, mad with excitement. Skye and her mate stayed still, though she felt oddly agitated inside.
“We warn you for the last time, Redring,” the Fat Frog said. “Put them down and do not harm them.”
“You haven’t the power to get rid of us,” Redring told the frog. “You’d have done so by now if you could. You’re weak.” She turned to her goblins and barked, “Over the edge.”
“No, please, no!” the woman said.
They lifted her and the liaison over the railings.
Redring watched, along with the rest of the frenzied tribe. Skye huddled with her mate, frozen.
Flowerwatch leaped. She tore the necklace from Redring’s neck, spun, and flung it straight toward the frog.
The Fat Frog caught it, zoomed up out of reach, and hovered there.
“You stinking worm!” Redring picked up Flowerwatch and threw her against a wall. Flowerwatch yelped and slid down, and huddled on the deck. Redring rounded on Slide and the others. “Drop them! Kill them!”
“Olivia Darwen,” the Fat Frog said, “do not fear—”
Whatever the frog was about to say, the humans wouldn’t hear it, for the goblins dropped them both off the treehouse. A thin shriek from the woman, then Skye heard nothing but the tribe’s yelps and shouts.
The pain locked in that tiny human dungeon cell inside her burst open like an explosion and broke the jail door off its hinges. She raced to the railing, her mate running beside her. Together they clutched the top rail and looked over. But from that height the ground was hidden by lacy layers of evergreen branches, swaying in the winter wind. The humans had fallen. They were gone.
A keening whimper escaped Skye’s throat. Her mate echoed it. They looked at one another, shocked and confused.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEATH. ONE COULDN’T FALL FROM THAT HIGH AND NOT DIE.
Livy plummeted, so terrified she couldn’t even scream anymore after one brief wail. She and Kit crashed through conifer branches; needles and twigs lashed at her on the way before whipping back up. The next layer of branches had more heft to it; some of them bent and slowed their descent for a second before giving way.
Then another layer, maybe halfway down: this time the branches curled tangibly around their bodies, and Livy and Kit slowed considerably. She grabbed at the branches and began to hope. Then those branches creaked and broke too, and they plunged again.
Lights zipped above and around them, impossibly fast. Their fall slowed once more, and when Livy flailed to seize anything within reach, she found her arms stuck to something. She and Kit were sagging in some kind of net. She turned her head, and met his astonished gaze some ten feet away. He seemed to be shaking off the blow to the head. They were both caught in filmy white stuff that spun out between trees and was stretching down to accommodate them as they sank into it. Snow-covered branches? No, a spiderweb. The biggest, strongest, fastest-built spiderweb she had ever seen. Then the web tore and they fell again.
And landed with a thump on the ground, a foot below, safe and whole.
“Oh my God.” Livy sat up, her clothes dusted with snow and webs. She crawled to Kit. She yanked the gag off him and cupped her hands around his face. “Hey.”
He drank in the sight of her, blinking fiercely. “I thought…oh God, I thought you were dead, I thought we were both about to die, and that I’d never…”
She hugged him close, feeling him press against her with all his might, though his limbs were still tied and he couldn’t embrace her. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “We failed.” She looked toward the east, where the sky was lightening to gray in an open strip between tree trunks. “Dawn’s almost here. We failed.”
“Olivia Darwen.” The frog zoomed down, still holding the ring with the red stone. Livy and Kit looked up. “We have just enough time,” it said. “But the contract bound up in this ring involves powerful blood magic. To undo it and disband them will require a sacrifice.”
“What kind?” Livy asked.
“Either something from each of the four of you, or the life blood of one of you.”
“Take mine,” Kit said at once.
Livy clapped her hand over his mouth. “No!” She looked the frog in the eyes. “Each of us. No one dies tonight.” She glared down at Kit.
She could tell from his eyes that he smiled. He acquiesced with a nod.
“I will do my best to make it painless,” the frog said. “But it will be permanent. Do you choose mind or body?”
“Permanent? Wait—what do you mean, mind or body?”
“To lose a piece of, from each of you.”
Livy felt queasy, and drew in a breath to steady herself, but answered without hesitation. “Body.” She thought of Skye and Grady, their minds compromised all this time; of Kit’s mother, her memory lost toward the end of her life. No more losing any parts of their minds. She glanced down at Kit, and dropped her hand from his mouth.
He nodded. “Definitely.”
“Then so be it.” The frog flew up again, fast as a rocket.
Livy set about untangling Kit from his chains. “I thought this was over.”
“I thought so too.”
She shook off the last chain and they held each other tightly.
At that moment the fireworks began.
One second Grady was looking into the eyes of his mate, trying to comprehend the war of strange feelings inside him. The next second, the treehouses started falling apart. Sparks flashed on the dwellings and in the air all around. The magic holding up the village collapsed; boards, furniture, weapons, and everything else that had been transformed began turning back into gold and falling out of the trees. And the goblins started to fall too.
The tribe screeched, clawed, cursed, and hung onto branches and dangling boards. Redring yowled loudest of all, but she already looked smaller and weaker, and Grady felt the change deep in himself. The tribe’s center was collapsing, all because the humans had finally found a way to work with those horrid locals—of which there were now hundreds, flitting around too fast to get a fix on them.
Grady and his mate leaped onto a board nailed to a branch. Just after they jumped, the central deck they’d left behind creaked, snapped, and went tumbling to the forest floor, carrying several screaming goblins. His mate clung to him. Their board wobbled. A whirlwind of locals bashed into them, tipping them and the board over. They squealed, but there was nothing they could do. They fell, smashing through branches, whipping through cold air, and hit the ground with a painful blow.
Everything in his body hurt. But they were immortal now, and healed almost at once. Two breaths after landing, he rose up on his knees, and caught his mate, who jumped into his arms. They knelt on the ground in the snow, staring around in amazement. Debris rained from the treetops, mostly gold trinkets that glittered bright in the icy blue of the forest, but also all the items that hadn’t started out as gold: dried fruits, kitchen gadgets, blankets, shoes, bottles, cans, anything the goblins had stolen or been given by their liaisons.
Half the tribe scampered around grabbing gold and fighting each other over it. The other half, including Redring, formed a snarling circle around the intruder a
nd the liaison, who crouched, unhurt, on the forest floor, staring at the tribe.
Fae sparks swirled down among them, and a second later a ring of fire whooshed up between goblins and humans. Both parties yelped and drew back from the flames, but no one seemed hurt. The fire stayed in its perfect circle.
Then a wind—a wind with hands and talons all over it—surrounded Grady and his mate. It picked them up, flew them over the flames, and deposited them at the feet of the two humans. It all happened so swiftly he hardly had time to take a single breath.
Though the drop was short, the landing made everything hurt again, and this time the pain lingered. He curled up on the ground, groaning, as his body underwent a flood of pins and needles and cramps and burns.
“Grady!” It was Kit’s voice. A second later his cousin threw a coat over his back.
The pain eased, at least partly, and Grady found he was shaking like a leaf, cold beyond endurance, naked in the snow. His skin was pale and soft and human again. Kit’s thick black winter coat was draped around him. He clutched it shut, staggered to his feet, and looked in horror and remorse at his cousin. Grady had stood by and done nothing while they tried to kill Kit and Livy.
“Oh my God,” Grady said. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
Kit was bloodied, bruised, and dirty, but he beamed and clapped a hand on Grady’s shoulder. “Not your fault. It’s good to see you back.”
Around them the ring of fire still held off the furiously screaming goblins.
Next to them, Skye and Livy sat on their knees, locked in a tight hug, tears running down their cheeks. Skye was bare-legged and bundled in Livy’s mud-smeared coat, her hair a disheveled mess. Still beautiful.
Tears stung Grady’s eyes. His stomach churned. Everything he’d done with her, to her, all the things she’d never have wanted from him if it hadn’t been for magic…it was unforgivable. So many things he’d done in the past month just shouldn’t be forgiven.
The frog faery darted over, and addressed the goblins. “These humans have been returned to their rightful tribe, and your contract with this man’s bloodline has been broken, paid for in blood by these four.”
Livy and Skye rose. The four of them exchanged a bewildered glance. Paid for in blood?
“You have no right!” Redring yelled from the other side of the fire.
“We have every right,” the frog said. “Furthermore, your unjust actions against this tribe, and against all of ours numerous times, give us the right to take permanent action against you. Goblin tribe, you are disbanded and transformed, and shall never be goblin again.”
“You cannot!”
Redring’s howl was lost in a wave of whistling, sizzling, splashing, and cracking. Sparks and lightning flashed. Snow evaporated to steam. The ground rumbled and bits of earth and moss landed upon Grady and the others from some minor explosion nearby.
The ring of fire fluttered down and became a circle of magenta fireweed blossoms, which hopped away and vanished.
Grady, Kit, Skye, and Livy stood in a stunned cluster and watched the vanquished tribe get apportioned out to the four elements. Some became seals, jellyfish, or other swimming creatures; an impromptu stream formed from the snow’s meltwater, and they dove into it and splashed out of the forest in the direction of the Sound. Others took the shapes of mushrooms or gnomes, and burrowed into the ground and disappeared under beds of moss. Another quadrant flashed away as sparks and tiny dragons, leaving a whiff of smoke in the air. The rest became moths or birds or bats, and twirled into the sky on transparent wings.
The last to be turned was Flowerwatch. She cowered alone, trembling. The frog descended to almost ground level, and spoke to her kindly. “For your assistance, I am pleased to let you choose your tribe. I only regret I cannot any longer return you to humankind, for it has been too long and surely you would die.”
Flowerwatch nodded, stunned. “Then…air. Becoming a flying creature is one of my few joys. Thank you.”
The frog gave her a nod, and the white cloudy forms of air fae swirled around her and obscured her form. A second later, a new moth arose, pale blue and decorated with marks on its wings that reminded Grady of flowers. She and her new tribe soared upward into the dawn sky, and flickered out of sight.
A startled gasp from Skye drew Grady’s attention. She splayed her left hand in front of her. “My finger!”
Livy lifted her own hands. “Oh!”
Kit and Grady checked theirs out too.
“Well, shit.” Kit sounded shaken.
His ears ringing in shock, Grady stared at his right hand, on which his smallest finger was completely missing, as if it had never existed. He turned to compare with Kit’s: same deal. Livy and Skye stretched theirs out, the four of them in a huddle, hands in the center. Missing pinkies all around, healed and totally painless, just gone.
“Blood payment,” Livy said.
“Guess that counts,” Kit said.
“Left hand for me,” Skye said. “Right for the rest of you. Our dominant hands.”
“How are we going to explain this to our families?” Grady asked.
Skye met his gaze for a second. She had spoken freely, and her features looked mobile rather than spell-fettered—all of which was a dream come true. But she looked ill, probably mired in remorse and disgust, just as he was. That is, he was only disgusted at having had sex in front of the goblins, not at having had sex with her—never that, not even with the spell finally torn out of his head. What if she was disgusted at having been with him? God, she would hate him once she thought about everything for a few seconds. She should hate him.
Sure enough, her gaze slid down after a moment, and she looked more nauseated than before. He felt like he’d been quietly stabbed. He looked away.
“Your families will already know,” the frog said. Grady looked up, through his shivers and heartbreak, and focused on the golden creature. “It is part of the spell. It will be as if your fingers never existed, in everyone else’s memories.”
“Even in photos and things?” Livy asked.
“The spell should affect all records. Brave humans, you have done well. You are free of the goblins, as are we, and we thank you for helping us forge a path to them.”
“What happened to Redring?” Kit asked. “I didn’t see.”
“We sent her to the water fae,” the frog said. “It was merciful of us. Her mate was turned to water-nix, long ago, far away. There is always the chance she might yet find him. Even if she does not, her angry soul can be healed in the seas, and her vengefulness turned to better cause. Now we must return you to your tribe, as well.”
“Wait,” Livy said. “What if we need you again? Can I summon you?”
“You may try.” The frog flicked its wing. The four-element gold ring flew through the air from somewhere in the forest and bounced at Livy’s feet. She picked it up. “But we only answer if there is reason,” the frog added, “and I doubt you will have reason. Nonetheless, Olivia Darwen, our protection will always extend over you in thanks for your kindness to our home. It will extend over you all, so long as you keep showing our woods and waters such respect.”
They all nodded at once in agreement.
“I’m free?” Kit sounded stunned. “The liaison contract, it’s really gone?”
“You are free,” the frog said. “I am sure none of you will enter lightly into any agreement with the fae again.”
“Hell, no,” Skye said, speaking quite well for all of them.
“Before you go, you are free to take any gold you wish, or other goods.” The frog turned, drawing back to look at the wreckage of the lair scattered all over the ground. “We have no use of it, and it belongs rightfully to humans.”
“Seriously?” Now Kit sounded as delighted as a mega-lottery winner.
“Indeed. It will only lie here to be found by other humans.”
“I promise you,” Kit said, already stepping forward toward the loot, “I’m going to return as much of it as I
can to the people it came from.”
“Or donate the money to environmental charities, if we can’t find the rightful owners.” Livy waded in and crouched to scoop up jewelry. “That’d be a fitting use, right?”
“For sure.” Kit found a tin box and began filling it with treasure.
After another tentative glance at Skye that once again left her looking upset, Grady wandered into the debris, wretched, and started picking stuff up. So did Skye. Before long they had both found the clothes they’d been wearing, crumpled on the ground and damp with melted snow, and put them back on. He was still shivering so hard his teeth clattered together.
“Dawn is upon us,” the frog said. “Rest well today.”
“Thank you,” Livy said. Kit and Skye echoed the words, fervently.
Grady glanced up to add his thanks, but the creature had already vanished. Gray-blue sky lightened the spaces between trees. The darkness was evaporating; he could see deeper now into the snowy woods. The forest looked ordinary again, though he couldn’t pinpoint what had changed exactly, other than the disappearance of the glowing frog and the passing of the night.
God, he was exhausted.
“You guys ready?” Kit tucked his box of gold under his arm, holding a bulging sack in the other hand. “I left the truck on the road right over there.”
“Thank God.” Livy wrapped up the bundle of gold she had piled in an old curtain. “I think we all need to shower and then sleep for, like, a day and a half.”
“For sure.” Skye shuffled up next to her, holding a coffee can full of treasure. She and Livy turned toward the truck.
Grady followed, his pajama pockets stuffed with jewelry.
Kit fell into step beside him and tapped his elbow against Grady’s. “You all right?”
Grady nodded, though his head still ached, along with most of his joints. “Just…have to process all this.”