“We talked last night,” Silas told him. “I explained the grisly process of flesh-weaving to her. At least the idea of it.”
“Ah.” Ranger X nodded. “Yes. We believe it’s entirely possible. It’s within the same circle of dark magic. You could say the skill set would cross over. In a way, we are hopeful it’s the same person, as that way there’s only one person to find, and that person could lead us into the underworld.”
“Does the weaving happen up here?” I asked. “Or in the underworld?”
“I’m not sure,” Silas said. “My instinct is the underworld, but it could also be a spell that’s activated as well. I wouldn’t think the spirits could last long enough in our realm for them to be made here entirely.”
I considered this. “There’s really no way for someone to enter the underworld?”
Ranger X shook his head. “Not if they want to live.”
I glanced at Silas, sensing his answer might be more complicated.
“It’s highlynotrecommended,” Silas said with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Impossible? I don’t know how I feel about that word.”
Ranger X gave an exasperatedharrumphand rubbed a hand over his forehead. But he didn’t argue with Silas’s words, merely looked very, very displeased at them.
“But it’s a very bad idea,” Silas tacked on, as if to appease Ranger X. “A very, very bad idea.”
“Hopefully things won’t come to that.” The best choice here seemed to be to let the subject drop, and possibly bring it up again with Silas under more private circumstances. “Going into the underworld would be a last-ditch option anyway.”
“Last-ditch option,” Ranger X agreed heartily. “Because it’s a death sentence.”
On that particularly gleeful note, Ranger X led us to a cramped corner office where a limp houseplant wilted on the desk. A small man with gray hair that stood in wild disarray sat at the desk wearing two pairs of spectacles: one on the top of his head, one on the long bridge of his nose. The man turned to me, his owlish eyes widening, and pumped my hand.
“You must be Alessia,” he chirped. “Or possibly ‘Your Highness’?”
“Alessia’s fine,” I said quickly. “Please.”
“This is Dr. Sterling Lewis,” Ranger X explained. “He isn’t an official Ranger, but he has honorary permissions that function as if he were. All the same clearances, et cetera. He volunteered to help with the ward repairs.”
“Call me Sterling, call me Doc. Call me whatever you want,” the man said, finally letting go of my hand. “I’m very happy to be of service here on The Isle. I normally work for MAGIC Inc. on the mainland, but when I heard the new Fae Queen was in need of assistance, I jumped at the opportunity.”
“Thank you,” I told him. “I appreciate it. We all do. I’m just here to help however I can as well.”
Dr. Lewis winked. “Aren’t we all? I’ve been briefed on everything, so feel free to speak openly. Would you like to get started now?”
“That would be preferred,” Ranger X said. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste. Please catch us up, especially Alessia, on what you’ve gotten so far.”
Dr. Lewis whipped a cloth off a glass case on his desk. Inside it sat a crystal sphere on a little stand, something that looked like it might be found in a psychic shop on the Vegas strip.
“What is it?” I asked at some length.
Judging by the way he peered at me through one set of his glasses, I was probably supposed to know the answer already. Indeed, he looked slightly crestfallen at my question.
“I’m trying to replicate the salt crystals that anchored the wards,” he said. “Let me guess…I’m a bit off.”
“A little,” I said gently, “but it may not need to look the same to work the same.”
“Those originals were placed eons ago.” Dr. Lewis scratched at his nose. “After you destroyed them, there was no chance of recovering enough to make a more accurate replica. I had to use my imagination, which isn’t something I’m used to doing all that much. I generally prefer to follow rules and procedures.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No, you did the right thing. It just makes this step harder, but I’m sure with your help we can get there.”
I reached a hand out for the crystal, and when Dr. Lewis nodded, I laid my fingers on top of it gently. “I can describe how they looked and felt, but I don’t know their composition. What they are made of, how they’re constructed, all of that.”
“Sure you do,” Lewis said. “You’rethe composition—your magic is what powers these. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure you’re well aware that my interference in these matters wouldn’t be required and your wards would be complete all on their own, no crystals needed.”
