KIT WAITED MAYBE THREE MINUTES BEFORE PROWLING BACK TO WHERE HE’D LEFT LIVY. HER FOOTPRINTS IN THE snow vanished into nowhere, just as Grady’s and Skye’s did. The fae had brought her into their world.
Empty and rattled, he walked back to his cabin, but stopped at the door. What was he going to do while the three of them were in the goblins’ hands? Build a cozy fire and heat up a pot of coffee in case they came back? Hang out warming his feet till then? Screw that.
He wheeled around, went to his truck, and dug out the tire chains from the metal box in the bed. He hooked them onto the tires, then climbed into the cab. If Livy did succeed, and broke all of them out of the goblin hideout, then they’d probably wind up in the national forest where those dwellings were.
Also, if they—goblins and his loved ones alike—thought he was going to sit here pointlessly while they did all the important stuff, they were sorely mistaken. He was summoning them and going in, whether anyone else liked it or not.
He drove down the bumpy, icy lane to the loop road, then out to the even icier bridge, and eased the truck across it. Bellwater slumbered on the other side, everything covered with pristine snowfall, lit up by streetlights. It was 12:30, though the timing might be different in the fae world.
He drove past the closed-up shops, up Shore Avenue, and on into the woods. His truck’s weight and the tire chains kept him from skidding too much, and he arrived at his traditional stopping point without sliding into any ditches. He got out. The snow lightened the world; he saw more than he usually could when he came out here at night. But everything was quieter too. The trees still creaked in the breeze, but they sounded muffled by the blanket of snow. The winter wind rose with a moan for a moment, like a tundra soundtrack, then died away again.
Kit whistled a few notes.
It took a minute, but someone whistled them back, and a voice taunted in falsetto, “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” He used a neutral, conciliatory tone. After all, going in swinging hadn’t turned out so well lately. “I want to come visit the dwellings. Just want to be there, for the big night. Just to see, okay?”
This was so dumb. Even if they brought him up there, what chance would he have to accomplish anything brave and useful? They’d throw him out of the treehouse the second he made a move against them. But if it bought Livy even a few seconds to do whatever she had to do, or if it inspired Grady and Skye to resist and not become goblins, then he was going in.
They opened the path for him: snow sculptures tonight, knee-high mushroom shapes leading him into the woods. They didn’t glow; the snow made things light enough to see without it.
Once he reached the end of the path, three goblins crawled down the snow-dusted trunks to meet him. He glanced up at their dwellings, a hundred feet up in the trees. Things looked livelier than usual up there, like a party was going on. Lanterns and lightbulbs blazed. Bouncy music, eerie voices, and laughter floated down.
“He wants to come up,” one of the goblins said.
“Yeah.” Kit glanced at the three. Redring wasn’t among them. “Where’s your leader? She usually comes to talk to me.”
“Tonight is a big night, as you say,” another said. “She is quite busy. She sent us to get you.”
“Super. How do I get up there?”
“Like this.” One of them jumped onto his head, faster than he could anticipate, and knocked him sideways into a bank of ferns and snow.
“Hey! Get off—” But while he tried to pry loose the one on his head, the other two wrapped a gag around his mouth—a grimy cloth whose dirty-laundry taste made him shudder. They seized his hands and bound them with a chain, and whipped more chains all around his body, pinning his arms down. God damn, the goblins were strong for such puny creatures, and fast too. It always surprised him.
“Rrmmf!” He made the growl of protest as menacing as he could, glaring at them as they stood to beam at their handiwork.
“Redring’s orders,” one said. “You are far too troublesome to be unbound in our dwellings. But you may come and watch, she says.”
“Your blood contract does not allow us to use magic to immobilize you,” another said, sounding regretful about that. “So we must use clumsy human ways.”
“Up we go!” the third said. She picked up Kit like he weighed about twenty pounds, and threw him over her shoulder.
They scaled a huge tree trunk. Dangling over the creature’s shoulder, tied up and with his mouth stuffed with disgusting cloth, Kit watched the snowy ground sink away from him.
At this rate, Livy and Grady and Skye were definitely not going to thank him for showing up.
Livy stood between the lines of glowing sea creatures, her boots a few inches from the lapping edge of the water. Was she supposed to swim? In Puget Sound, the hypothermia could kill a person even on a summer day. This was a frozen winter night.
Trust the path.
“But the path’s underwater,” Livy said, to no one in particular. She stared at the illuminated blue lines rippling under the clear, dark water, until they faded a few yards out. As far as she could see, the path stayed on the bottom for the whole span.
Everything here was magic. This was her path, so there must be a way.
She gripped the ring and walked forward until she waded into the shallows. She paused, ankle deep. These weren’t waterproof boots; none of her current clothes were designed for being submerged. As she hesitated and took stock, she realized the water wasn’t getting through her boots. She bent over to look; the water was pulling back from her feet, surrounding her ankles as if a bubble of air held it there. “Huh,” she said. She waded another step deeper, and another. The water was up to her knees now, and still it didn’t actually touch her. It surrounded her on all sides, but hovered behind an invisible wall that moved along with her.
“Right, so.” She continued forward until the water was around her chest, then paused, looked back at the beach longingly, and faced forward again. A black expanse of saltwater gleamed at eye level, stretching far out to the mainland. “Brave.” She took a deep breath and walked forward.
She closed her eyes when the water level rose above her face, holding her breath with the next step. But air continued to surround her head. Tonight it was warmer under here than in the snowy weather on land. Her squelching footsteps bounced and echoed within her bubble, like the sounds of water slapping beneath marina boards. Everything smelled of saltwater and seaweed. But she could breathe. She was dry, if clammy, and she could breathe.