“Better have a good bunker handy once we tell Patrick what you are,” Keith snapped.
Gerard’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing in response to that remark.
Their strides ate up ground until they were walking down a path lined by ancient trees, thick branches arching overhead and forming a living tunnel. Sunlight peeked through the gold-green leaves, tiny sunbeams highlighting strange plants around them. Pixies fluttered through the trees, fighting over nectar from flower blossoms with brilliantly plumed birds. Jono could no longer see Odin’s ravens flying overhead, but he had a feeling they were still there.
The summer heat faded after a while, coinciding with an uptick in mist, the same sort that had rolled over the hawthorn path when they were separated hours earlier.
“We’re approaching the crossroads,” Gerard warned.
“What are they?” Sage wanted to know.
“A place in the hawthorn paths that leads to either Court. I was taking us to the Seelie Court as we came out of the veil when we were ambushed earlier.”
High above, the ravens Jono couldn’t see cawed a warning that made him rock to a stop. “Something’s out there.”
Gerard made a grabbing motion at the air, and his spear snapped into his hand out of nowhere. He hefted it in both hands, spinning it until the blade pointed in front of them.
“Spriggan,” Gerard said after a moment. “Show yourself.”
A tree down the way moved—then Jono realized it wasn’t the tree moving, but a creature that looked like one. Its elongated body was made of tree bark, with branches sprouting from its head, each one covered in tiny leaves. Its eyes were like knotholes that didn’t blink. When it smiled, its teeth were made of stone.
The spriggan bowed, the twigs that made up its fingers curling with the motion. “Cú Chulainn, I bid thee well.”
“Who sent you?” Gerard demanded.
“Who sends anyone to anywhere?”
“I’m not in the mood for riddles, spriggan.”
Jono flexed his hand, claws cutting through his skin. “Neither am I.”
The spriggan walked forward in a gangly way, its long limbs giving it an almost swaying motion. “Peace, peace, Cú Chulainn. I come with an invitation.”
“Whose?”
The spriggan spread its hands, smiling in a way that wasn’t friendly at all. “Why, the queen’s of course.”
Jono and Gerard shared a look, both of them knowing the spriggan didn’t mean Brigid.
Gerard spun his spear around, digging the metal-shod end of it into the earth. “Take us to her.”
The spriggan beckoned at them, cackling all the while. “By all means. Follow me.”
13
“I’m hungry,”Wade said.
Patrick didn’t open his eyes. “Eat a protein bar.”
“I did.”
“Eat another one.”
“I don’t have any more.” The sound of plates clinking together reached Patrick’s ear, though he had to strain through the cottony feeling in his head to hear it. “Can’t I have one of these things that looks like an apple?”
Patrick opened his eyes and turned his head, squinting at where Wade stood by the table in their tower room. The table was piled high with fruit he didn’t recognize and slices of meat he had no idea what animal—if itwasan animal—it came from. A pitcher of water and a decanter of wine sat in the center of the table.
Patrick ran his dry tongue against his teeth, mouth parched. “No eating or drinking anything the fae offer us.”
