“Why did the ghost think I did it? Well, I intend to find out.” His jaw was set, and it forbid any further inquiry. “Enough about me; I believe you said you wanted to get back home?” he said, the smile back on his face.
A howl echoed through the night, and Catherine’s head jerked in that direction. She’d heard it in the forest, but it sounded much closer than that.
“I was afraid of that,” Mr. Thorn said with a frown.
“Afraid of what?”
“The werewolf followed us here. We’ll have to take an alternate route to get you home, unless you would rather try and outrun an intelligent and bloodthirsty predator?
Her stomach flopped at the thought. “No.”
“Didn’t think so. But there is one thing; we will have to travel through Faery to get you home, and unless you want to remain here forever, you’ll have to trust me.” He held out his hand for her to take.
Catherine chewed on her bottom lip and picked at the skin on her nails. She wasn’t sure. She’d come this far, but if she went deeper, she wasn’t sure what she would discover. The wolf howled again, and she jumped in surprise. It was between a monster at the door or Mr. Thorn. Did she have any choice at all?
“I trust you.”
11
The wolf howled, and the door rattled. Earth rained down on their heads from the ceiling. Mr. Thorn placed himself between Catherine and the door, reaching for the dagger, which was no longer at his hip. His eyes scanned the room as the wolf scratched and huffed on the other side of the door. Catherine’s slick palms clutched the dagger Mr. Thorn had given her.
“Why did it follow us?” Ray muttered under his breath as he watched the door, which shook from another blow by the wolf.
She felt as if she were in a dream, or more like a nightmare, one from which she couldn’t wake.
“Go to the door at the end of the hall. It is our safest way out.” He nodded toward the door she’d noticed when they’d first come in.
She ran for it, wanting to put as much space as possible between her and the wolf. The doorknob was made of smooth polished wood, and roots weaved in and out through the gaps in the door. Catherine grasped it with sweaty palms, and the door opened with a whoosh of damp air and onto a long dark stairwell leading down underground into absolute darkness. She took a step back. The distant wail of patients filled her ears, and she felt rough hands on her shoulders. Catherine put her hands over her ears to block out the sound. She couldn’t go into the room. She’d been bad to believe any of this was real. She’d behave. She’d promised she’d behave.
She backed into something soft and firm. Dr. Armstrong would force her inside. She whirled around and found not the physician but Mr. Thorn regarding her with a furrowed brow. The door creaked as wood cracked. Her eyes darted over his shoulder just as the wolf’s black and gray muzzle poked through. It snuffled before retreating and growling. Its claws tearing at bits of wood. It would be through in a few minutes.
“We’ll be safe in the tunnels. We can lose him there,” Mr. Thorn said.
Catherine clasped her throat and shook her head. She couldn’t. Not into the enclosed dark. “I can’t,” she whimpered.
Mr. Thorn looked from the stairwell to the door, where a paw tipped in yellowed claws pulled at a board that groaned, about to break. He held up his hand, and in his palm, a small green flame flickered.
“We won’t be in the underground long. If you want, I can hold your hand.” He held out his hand to her.
Her breathing eased slightly. The flame was small, but it gave off faint glowing warmth. Between that and dagger in her grip, she felt reassured. She would go into darkness, but it wouldn’t be alone. With her free hand, she grasped his, and his larger hand enveloped her. The warmth felt like an anchor. The wave of panic hadn’t ebbed completely, but it was manageable at least.
Mr. Thorn led the way down the stairs, and once they were inside, he slammed the door shut behind them. They were plunged into darkness but for the faint green light of his flame, which cast strange shadows across his face. Her heart clenched, and she froze in place. Panic crept back up again, clawing at her insides, twisting her apart. The complete darkness reminded her of feeling her heart thundering in her chest as she pleaded and pleaded to be let go until she would cry herself into exhaustion.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you,” he said.
His words soothed her, and little by little, they inched down the steps. Her legs trembled, but she kept moving forward. The luminous green glow led their way and the sound of the wolf’s howls faded. They reached the bottom of the stairs into a space where their footsteps echoed back at them. Mr. Thorn held the light above them, and it grew a little brighter though his arm trembled to hold it up.
Three corridors, equally dark and cavernous. A moment’s deliberation, and he chose the pathway to the right. They did this several more times; the pitch-black labyrinth seemed unending. How he knew which turns to make among the many was beyond her. He strode with the confidence of someone who’d done this a thousand times.
After what felt to be an eternity stumbling in the dark, she felt bold enough to ask, “Where are we going?”
“I need to replenish my magic in one of the small courts. I suspect that wolf didn’t find us by accident. It seems to be hunting something.” His expression was difficult to read in the half-dark, but his tone made her stomach twist. “To open the gateway back to the human realm, I’ll need to replenish my magic. Even these small efforts are draining me.” He sighed and held up the faintly flickering flame. It had begun to fade and gave off barely enough light to illuminate his hand.
If he were to be believed, someone had framed him for murder, and now they’d sent a killer after him. What had he done to create such enemies? She kept this to herself because she was terrified of the answer. The path began to slope upward, and the dark eased as moonlight illuminated their exit. They stepped out into the clean, crisp air which smelled of pine and wet earth after the rain.The air vibrated with the unspoken, and it sent a pleasant chill down her spine. The tree’s song was clearer here, and the ache it created in her became even more painful.
“How do you replenish your magic?” Her voice felt distant, as if it belonged to a stranger.
“We dance together. The communion of the fae beneath the full moon shares the energy which flows from the Great Tree and brings life to all of Faery and the realms beyond...”
