by Sadie Moss
We clean ourselves up and straighten our clothes. Then Cross kisses me again, so slow and deep that it feels like he’s making a promise without words. He gazes into my eyes for a moment before he takes my hand and leads me back to Madame Mulfrey’s cabin.
She doesn’t seem very perturbed when we step back inside. Kasian and Theo both give me a look that lets me know the Aeriglade wildlife weren’t the only ones who heard me scream, and I hope like hell the older woman’s hearing isn’t quite what it used to be.
But hell, I just found out I’m prophesied to break the world. I think that entitles me to a moment of reckless, outdoor sex. Besides, it cleared my head faster than talking things out ever could have.
I give the two other men a small, tight smile as Cross rejoins them, letting them know I’m okay. Then I turn to the old interpreter.
“Madame Mulfrey,” I say, and it doesn’t take any effort to sound contrite, because I am. It’s not her fault. She didn’t choose what this prophecy says, after all. It’s just her job to relay the information. And I bit her head off for it. “I’m sorry about running out. I know I promised I wouldn’t be upset.”
She shrugs one thin shoulder, pulling a face.
“It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it.” She sighs, lifting her gaze heavenward. “They allll promise they won’t be upset.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I appreciate you trusting us and telling us what the prophecy means, really.”
“Eh. It’s all right.” Madame Mulfrey seems to soften a little and looks at me sympathetically, like she can almost understand how I’m feeling.
I wonder what it’s like to be an interpreter. To be the one person who knows what all this mumbo-jumbo means. How many sad futures has she had to see? How much bad news has she had to tell people?
“Can you tell me what the moment will be when I could avoid my fate? So I can recognize it when it comes?” I hold my breath as I finish speaking, already certain of her answer.
She smiles, and there’s genuine amusement in it, but sorrow too. “Of course not, dear. The universe doesn’t show any of us that. Can’t give away all the secrets, now.”
“Right. Thank you,” I repeat, because I’m not sure what else to say. “We’ll, um, leave you alone now.”
Madame Mulfrey nods. “And don’t go spreading around how you got here,” she adds, a bit of her snappy demeanor from earlier coming back.
We leave the cabin and head back out.
“She’s disabled the traps,” Kasian notes, nodding around us. “So we can get out safely.”
“Sweet old bat,” Theo mutters, sounding half joking and half serious as he glances back at the hut.
“So it’s about me,” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding whiny or panicked. Neither of those emotions will help right now. We need to be smart. Practical. Accept the facts and move forward accordingly. “The prophecy. It’s about me, I’m the one. Not Roxie. The others must’ve just thought it was Roxie because she’s my twin and she was the one in front of them.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Kasian argues, his brows drawing together. “Madame Mulfrey could be confused. You two are parallel world twins; people are bound to get a little mixed up, and the study of prophecies isn’t an exact science. When Solomon the djinn interpreted the prophecy for Roxie, he was convinced it was about her.”
“True. And then he mistook Gabbi for Roxie,” Theo adds.
“Sounds to me like these interpreters are stumbling around in the fucking dark here,” Cross mutters, shoving a low-hanging branch out of his way.
“I’m not willing to assume it’s you,” Kasian finishes. “I’m not. I think that we should still be open to the idea that it’s Roxie.”
I know he’s just saying that because he wants to keep me safe. All of my men do. I don’t argue with him though, because honestly, what do I know? How do any of us know for certain which one it is?
If the prophecy is about me, that puts a target on my back, and a pretty big one. But they have a point. Madame Mulfrey could be wrong. She’s an interpreter, and I’m sure she’s a very good one, but nobody’s perfect. Nobody can be right one hundred percent of the time. There’s definitely a margin for error here.
“We can discuss it more at the campsite,” Theo says. “We need to get back before anyone notices we’re gone.”
It’s already late afternoon, and if we’re not back soon, the rest of the camp is going to be worried. Bianca especially, since she’s the only one who knows what we’re really up to.
“Right. We need to fake some data too,” Cross adds, pulling out some of the equipment we were given to work with.
Right, yeah, we were supposed to be observing—
There’s a flash of something bright in my periphery, and I pause. What was that?
I turn, searching, squinting my eyes, trying to peer through the thick foliage around us. There! Over to the right!
It’s small, and pink, and floating. Now that I’m focused on it, it floats closer, just for a moment, and I can tell it’s a small creature. It looks a lot like some of the fae I saw in Anzac’s realm, otherworldly and uncanny, but much smaller and kind of cute, in an unsettling way.
“Holy crap. Pixies!” I hiss. I grab onto Kasian, tugging his arm. “Guys, pixies!”
That’s definitely a pixie. And even better, it’s pink. We need to get this for King Anzac—and when are we going to get another chance? I know there’s no time limit on holding up our end of the bargain for him, but I also know there’s a good chance we’ll need his help again before this whole thing is over, and I don’t think he’ll do us any more favors while we still have one outstanding.
“Oh no, love.” Theo chuckles wearily and shakes his head, obviously not in the mood for another wild goose chase today.
“Come on, this’ll only take a minute,” I plead. “We’re going to be late getting back anyway, so we might as well really make it worth our while.”
As I’m speaking, the pixie zips through the air, darting away from us.
Fuck. It’s almost like it knows I want something from it. I can’t let it get away. Pivoting on my heels, I dart off the path we’ve been walking, taking off after the pixie.
“This is a horrible idea!” I hear Theo call, but Cross is following me already, always up for a reckless adventure. Honestly, I’m continually surprised that out of everyone, this is the guy who has top grades at Radcliffe Academy. You would never think it by interacting with him.
“Gabbi!” Kasian calls. He doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as Cross, but I hear two more sets of footsteps and I know that whatever their misgivings, the other two are with us as well.
The pixie’s darting around just out of reach, sometimes streaking out of sight for a moment before moving into view again.
C’mon, c’mon, you little bugger, I just need some of your dust…
“Hey!” I try calling to it, my voice breathless from exertion. “Hey, it’s okay! We just want to talk!”
The pixie babbles at me in a high-pitched voice in a language I can’t understand, weaving through the air. I’m so focused on the little pink creature that I’m not really paying attention to where I’m going.
“Wait, please! If you would just listen—”
Before I can finish my plea, I stumble. I would say that I trip on something, but that’s not right. It’s more like I feel something grab me, and that trips me up.
“What the—” I say, or start to, and then something wraps around my ankles. And my arms. I scream as vines come out of nowhere to wrap all around me.
I hear the guys yelling in surprise, and I thrash, trying to get a good look at them. They’re being covered in vines too, and the pixie above us is laughing uproariously, flying around us. It’s not talking in any language I recognize, but it’s pretty easy to tell that we’re being taunted and mocked.
“Oh, yeah, asshole?” Cross yells, struggling mightily. “Gloat all you want, ’cause I’m gonna get out of here and w
ring your tiny little neck!”
This just makes the pixie laugh harder. It buzzes around our heads like a bee as the vines get tighter and tighter.
Fuck, I think helplessly. We’re going to die. We’re going to be strangled to death or ripped apart by these vines while a pixie laughs his ass off at us.
But then the pixie flies a little farther to the left, and it gives a shriek of fear. The sound is piercing and full of terror, and my head whips over in time to see its wings trapped by the sticky threads of a gigantic spider’s web.
Great.
Just… fantastic.
Chapter 22
The pixie is screaming and crying out, and out of the shadows around us, more pink lights appear.
Other colors too.
Pixies, about a dozen of them, are flying over, jabbering and trying to help their friend.
“Hey! Let us out of here, and we’ll help you!” I yell. Around me, the guys are trying to get free of their bindings, and I try to twist out of the vines, but they only wrap around me more tightly every time I move.
The pixies ignore me, too focused on their little friend to worry about any of us humans. It’s sweet that they want to help their own, I suppose, but I’d really appreciate it if one of them would get us out of our mess so that we can actually do something about the spiderweb. I bet I could help them with that more than they can help themselves.
Sure enough, the pixies are all trying to yank their friend free, and they’re just getting trapped by the web too, all of them yanking and tugging.
Crap. It won’t work that way. They’re all too small, they need someone bigger to actually—
“Oh, holy fuck!” I scream, completely without meaning to, a jolt of icy fear shooting down my spine because what in the ever-loving fuck is that?
Crawling out of a kind of cave-tunnel made of webbing several yards above us is a massive spider creature. It has a kind of hard shell like a crab, and its legs have those hard sectional pieces like a crab, but it’s definitely a type of spider, and it’s huge.
Dammit, why is everything in the Aeriglades so freaking gigantic? Especially the things that can kill you. That monster is going to be starring in my worst nightmares for the rest of my life, thanks.
Professor Harris was going on and on about the strange and amazing creatures that live in the habitat where freshwater meets saltwater, but if this is the kind of creature he’s talking about? I want no fucking part of it. Holy shit.
Still, as scared as I am, I can’t let those poor pixies be gobbled up. And I need their dust for King Anzac. Besides, these vines are holding me fast. I doubt the spider’s going to pass up the chance to eat us, four much bigger and nicely trapped meals, once it’s finished with the pixies.
Think, Gabbi, think! The pixies are too terrified and distracted to be of any help, so we’re on our own. What can I do to get rid of these vines? A blade won’t do any good because I’m bound up too tightly to use it. It needs to be something else.
Fire.
I’ve never tried to conjure straight-up fire before, just that little fireworks dragon in Professor Barnhouse’s class, but I know how to do it in theory. It’s one of the spells I had to learn on my own because Roxie would’ve learned it years ago. My hands are pinned down against my sides by the vine, but I can still move my wrists and fingers, and that’s all I need.
As the vines wrap around my throat, squeezing, I twist my fingers in a precise movement, conjuring up the fire, and I grab for one of the vines that’s wrapped around my leg.
There’s a kind of… it’s not screeching, exactly, since the vines don’t have mouths. But that’s the closest I can come to describing it. It’s like the vines are screaming out in fear and pain. The guys catch on to what I’m doing, and I smell more smoke, and the vines begin to retreat, writhing and making that horrible violin-screech-scratch noise.
I drop to the ground—I didn’t even realize that I was lifted up a few inches by the vines—and scramble forward. God, this is an awful idea, a horrible idea, my entire body is shrieking ew at the top of its lungs and my spine is shuddering, but I don’t stop. I grab the sticky, thick strands of the spiderweb and shake them.
“Hey! Hey!”
This is an absolutely awful idea, and judging by how my men are yelling at me, they know it.
It works though. The spider starts to skitter toward me.
I might actually throw up. Not right now, because that would be a bad idea, but once I no longer have this huge terrifying spider rushing toward me, I definitely might.
Um, fuck, spiders are scared of fire too, right?
I conjure more fire and thrust my burning hand at the spider. The fire that you conjure yourself doesn’t hurt you, since it’s your magic that’s burning, or something like that. Point is, I’m not turning my hand to a crisp as I wave the flames at the spider’s face. The spider rears back, making horrible clicking noises with its mouth pincers, but it retreats a little.
The guys are scrambling forward now too, yelling at the monster.
“Hey, get back!”
“Fucker!”
“Get the hell away from her!”
They hurl more fire at the spider and it retreats back into its lair, hissing and clicking the entire time.
I don’t know how long it’ll stay gone, so I dive into action, getting to work on freeing the pixies. The web is sticky and disgusting, but it’s not strong enough to trap me the way that it did such small creatures as long as I’m careful, and with a little patience, I’m able to work them all free.
I have to climb up the web a bit to get all of them, and the web swings precariously.
Oh, please don’t let the spider come back. Please, please, please.
As I free the last pixie, the whole web swings, and I have to clutch at it to keep from falling. There’s an angry hissing noise, and I hear Kasian yell, “Fuck. Watch out!”
Dammit, universe! I asked for one fucking thing!
The spider surges back out of its hole, lunging right for me, and I have no choice—I push off the web as hard as I can, free-falling several feet to the ground, landing in a heap but free of the damn spider.
Theo’s strong hands lift me up as Cross shoots some more flames at the spider.
“Go, go, go!” Kasian yells, and then we’re all tearing through the underbrush, the pixies leading the way.
“Please tell me that thing isn’t going to follow us,” I pant as we run. My hands and limbs are still sticky from web residue, and I swear it’s slowing me down, like I’m sticking to the very air around me.
Or maybe I’m just exhausted. Yeah. Could definitely be that.
“I don’t think so, love. It won’t leave its web, and not when it’s outnumbered like this,” Theo says, still holding onto me and tugging me along as Kasian and Cross bring up the rear.
We run until my lungs feel like they might burst, and then the pixies lead us to a small clearing a little higher up from the surrounding area, a bit of a lookout point. The first pixie that we followed—I can recognize it by its big purple eyes—floats down to my eye level. It starts chattering at me, and although it’s not speaking English, all the hand waving and gesturing that it’s doing gives me a pretty good idea of what it’s saying.
“I’m sorry for chasing you, and you’re welcome for saving you,” I reply, trying to get my breath back. “I didn’t mean to scare you. We just need some pink pixie dust, that’s all. We don’t want to hurt you or capture you or anything like that.”
I want to point out that the pixie could’ve just asked us this in the first place instead of gleefully leading us into a deadly trap where we would’ve died if we hadn’t found a way to escape, but I’m trying to stay on the good side of these little guys. I need their magic dust, and I don’t like our chances of trying to get it if the pixies put up a fight.
The pixie tilts its head at me, looking at me with its big eyes, then floats over to its friends. Some of them are pink too, but others are
blue and purple. They all chatter at each other in a little huddle. There seems to be some kind of argument, and then one blue pixie folds its arms and flies over to a corner to sulk, while the others fly over to us.
Huh. I’m guessing that there was a bit of a disagreement.
The first pixie nods at me, smiling with tiny sharp teeth, and then Theo conjures up a jar. All the pink pixies take their turns hovering over the jar, shaking their wings until their dust falls into it. It doesn’t take long to fill the jar up. There’s a lot of dust coming off of these little creatures.
The other pixies look rather intrigued by this entire process and clamber around us, so Theo summons two more jars, and the purple and blue fairies shake their wings over those jars as well, filling them up. It seems to be fun for them, and they’re all chattering in their own language, so we wait patiently for the jars to fill up.
It’s literal dust, a fine glimmering powder—so while most of it gets into the jar, of course some of it lands outside of the jar, floating down onto my hands and wrists as I hold it. I start to feel a bit warm and tingly all over, and I recognize why Anzac must want this dust. I can only guess what each color dust does on its own, but combined?
It’s making me feel like everything is wonderful and amazing.
Like I could do anything, conquer the world, but why would I bother? The world is great. It’s fantastic.
I feel a bit slap-happy, like the first time I got tipsy. Not drunk, not to that point, but right before you get drunk, right when there’s a buzz in your fingertips and the world seems like an amazing place.
“This is great,” I gush, and I think my words come out a little more slowly than I want them to, but that’s okay. I’ve never been so aware of my mouth before, and how it moves when I speak.
The guys all glance at each other, eyebrows raised, then turn back to me. “Glad to hear you think so,” Kasian says, looking a little concerned.
“Kassss-i-an,” I say, rolling the word around in my mouth. “You’re so serious. Why is that? You shouldn’t be so serious. You’re too beautiful and gorgeous for that.”