Bones of Faerie (12 page)

The sky dimmed as something crossed the sun. I froze, motioning Allie to stillness. Tallow hissed. Matthew made a low warning sound, like a whine at the back of his throat. Above the bluff a red-tailed hawk spread wings against the sky. A chill trickled down my spine. Once hawks had hunted only mice and rabbits, but no longer. Some said they'd bred with hawks from Faerie during the War. They were bigger now than they'd been, and they'd developed a taste for bigger game. Even as I watched, the hawk circled downward.

“Go away,” I whispered fiercely, knowing I didn't have time to untie my bow. “Go
away.”

The hawk must have seen other prey. It veered abruptly back toward the bluff and disappeared amid the trees.

Allie fell silent for a time after that. The trees were quiet, too, as if their branches were as numb as the fingers I'd shoved into my pockets. A glow in the middle of
the road caught my eye. “Look!” Allie said, seeing it at the same time. A stone the size of my fist, giving off faint purple light. “Just like Jared—”

“Don't!” I jerked Allie's arm back.
Don't touch any stone that glows.

Allie pulled her arm away, seeming hurt. “I was only looking. I know better than to interfere with someone else's magic.” She walked in a wide circle around the stone to prove the point. Matthew followed, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant. I went last. Even from the edge of the road I felt cold air brush my ankles. We passed a second stone, this one green, and a third, pale orange. “It feels cold the way healing feels cold,” Allie said. The path narrowed and the stones grew more frequent. It was the lichens clinging to their surfaces that shone, I realized, not the rocks themselves. We veered uncomfortably close to the trees to pass them.

A white glow up ahead made us slow down. We turned a bend—and saw that a rockslide from the bluff blocked most of the trail. Dozens of the stones within it glowed white, as bright as sun on ice. Only a narrow corridor wound between the rocks and trees.

Matthew sniffed the air and started forward. Allie followed. I took up the rear, one hand on my knife. The
oaks sighed faintly. The sun was rising, warming their green leaves.

A shadow darkened the rocks ahead. I looked up even as the hawk screeched and dove for us. Allie froze, gaze turned upward, too startled to run. I threw myself over her, saw Matthew hit the dirt as well.

Around us, the stones exploded in a snow-bright blaze.

Chapter 11

T
he hawk screeched again and fell silent. Pebbles rained down on my back. Somewhere, a wolf howled. A cat tongue licked my face.

I saw nothing but cold white light.

“Liza?” a voice whimpered below me. A hand reached for my own. I took it and squeezed hard. “Liza, I can't see.”

“I'm here,” I told Allie.

Teeth tugged at my sleeve, way too large for a cat. Tallow hissed and leaped to my back. The teeth let go. I heard an anxious whine.

“What's that?” Allie's voice was a child's voice, frightened at a bump in the dark.

I was frightened, too, but I didn't let her know that. “Matthew?” I whispered, reaching out my free hand.

The whining stopped and a damp nose shoved itself into my hand. No teeth this time, just skin and fur and the faint scent of fear. I moved my hand slowly up his nose, between his ears. His coat was rough at the surface, but softer beneath. I moved my hand to Matthew's back as I turned to stand by his side. Tallow hissed again and scrabbled up to my shoulders. With my other hand I urged Allie to her feet.

The wolf started forward but stopped when I didn't follow. “Can you see?” I asked him. No answer. No sound at all, save for soft panting. Tallow's claws dug through my sweater.

What choice did I have but to trust him and his magic? When he started forward again, I walked with him. Only Allie hesitated. “What about Matthew?” she asked, her hand still clutching mine.

“He's—here,” I told her, realizing she didn't know. Even as I spoke I wondered how much of this wild creature really was Matthew and how much was something else.

Cold light pulsed against my eyes as we walked.

Allie's hand trembled in my own. Tallow's claws dug deeper. Only Matthew remained steady. I felt the rise and fall of his shoulders beneath my hand. Around us the trees whispered to one another. Farther off some animal wailed a childlike cry. Wind brushed my cheek.

“My eyes hurt,” Allie said.

“Then close them.” I kept my own eyes open, though. I saw a whisper of darkness against the light and strained to see better. In the distance I could just make out ash and cypress trees, their trunks tangled with ivy. Beyond the trees stood something darker and smoother. A metal arch, taller than any tree; it only seemed dark compared to the whiteness all around me. I quickened my pace, though according to Samuel's map we shouldn't be anywhere near the Arch.

The earth beneath the Arch trembled. A poison ivy vine swung overhead, and I ducked. I released my hold on Matthew's back and pulled Allie near. My knife was in my hand before I knew I'd drawn it.

Yet I felt no breeze as the vine passed by. I heard no sound. I felt no shaking beneath my feet, in spite of the trembling I'd seen. I looked up slowly.

The scene before me rippled like water. The trees
faded, replaced by mounds of stone and twisted steel. The Arch rose above them, brighter now, smoke clinging like mist about its base. From somewhere beyond, a flock of metal birds flew toward the Arch, though the sound they made reminded me more of roaring water than of birds.

Airplanes,
I thought. I knew then that what I saw wasn't real but only some reflection of the past; knew, too, that not all the airplanes had been brought down by magic after all. I shut my eyes but the vision remained.

Matthew woofed quietly, a question in the sound. I sheathed my knife and reached for his back while the airplanes flew at the Arch one by one, disappearing as their wings made contact with its bright surface.

“What's wrong?” Allie asked, and I knew neither she nor Matthew saw.

“Nothing,” I whispered. “Nothing real.” My heart pounded. The visions looked real enough. Matthew started forward again, and I followed, even as the scene shifted once more.

The Arch disappeared. I saw tall buildings, towers of glass and steel. From below, oaks stretched shadow branches toward the buildings. From above, hawks dropped stones that glowed with faerie light. Orange and
white explosions lit the air. The buildings collapsed like a child's kindling towers.

My legs felt weak, as if they, too, might give way. I knew well enough I was seeing the War. I stumbled as a shower of glass tinkled to my feet, even as I told myself this wasn't real. I saw—

The road—a road of black stone—shuddering to life, shaking cars into ruins like a dog might shake off water.

Allie's grip on my hand tightened. Warmth flowed toward the faded knife scars on my palm. No, not warmth—gentler cold. I focused on that cold. I focused on the feel of Matthew's fur beneath my other hand. Slowly, the visions faded. I saw a gray outline beside me and realized it was a wolf, ears cocked forward, sniffing the air. I kept walking, and color bled through the brightness: green leaves, blue sky. All at once the white light was gone. I saw clearly the gray wolf beneath my hand. I looked back and saw Allie step through a wall of white light, not releasing my other hand as she did. The wall of light stretched to the sky, as tall as the buildings in my vision. The stones must have created it when they exploded. Had the faerie folk used stones and light like that to make our soldiers lose their way during the War?

Tallow's yellow tail lashed to and fro from my shoulders. Matthew's ears perked back. As I drew my fingers from his fur he turned to look at me, blinking. Matthew hadn't been able to see, either, I realized. He'd led us through by smell, not sight. I reached hesitantly toward him, but then Tallow hissed and I drew back. Matthew backed away, too, head lowered, ears flattening, a low growl rising in his throat. Allie glanced at him and silently moved to my side. The sun brightened. Silver light flowed over Matthew's gray fur. I waited for the boy to emerge from the wolf, for someone I could thank with human words. The light receded, but the wolf remained. He pawed the ground and whined.

“He's hurt!” Allie cried, even as I saw the blood on his hind leg. The gash had barely clotted, as if wild dogs had attacked us only moments before. Allie released my hand and darted forward.

“Wait!” I called, but she knelt and put hands to the wound.

The wolf whined again, with fear or with pain, but Allie's hands remained steady. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, but”— she shook her head—“healing first. Questions later.”

Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she focused on the wound. Light flowed from her hands
over his leg. The wolf stretched his head around toward Allie, panting a little, his teeth so close—but he didn't hurt her.

I remembered how Matthew had scratched the air, threatening to kill, while Caleb had healed him. Beneath his easy smile, Matthew was as capable of anger as I was. He just controlled it better.

Allie's light faded. Old blood flaked away from an old wound. Allie leaned back on her heels, brown eyes thoughtful. “I didn't know you were a shifter, Matthew.”

The wolf put weight on his leg, gingerly at first, then more steadily. He turned and nudged Allie's hands. She laughed. “You have a wet nose!”

He lifted his head, turning his gaze back to me. We regarded each other in silence. Finally I stepped forward, crouching in front of him. “Thank you,” I whispered, wondering whether the words had any meaning to a wolf.

He nuzzled my chest with his nose. Tallow hissed and leaped from my shoulders. I ignored her and moved my hands to rest on Matthew's back.
So soft,
I thought.
How could wild magic feel so soft?

“I only ever knew one shifter.” Allie took Tallow in her arms, stroking the trembling cat. “But he was an owl. I think wolves are much nicer.”

I looked into Matthew's eyes. Wild eyes, yet with an edge of fear behind them. “The other shifter you knew— what happened to him?”

“He flew away. Karin was his teacher. She said if only he'd come back, she'd have reminded him about being human. But I don't think Adam wanted reminding. I think he liked to fly too much.” The wall of light behind us made Allie's face seem very pale. We needed to move on, to put space between ourselves and that magic.

Yet I kept staring at Matthew. “Have you forgotten, too?” I asked.

Allie shook her head, hair falling from her braid into her face. “No. Matthew's still there. I could tell when I healed him.”

“Then why can't he change back?”

“I don't know,” Allie said. “Maybe it was that light. My hands are all itchy from it, like they're looking for something to heal. Maybe the light did something to Matthew's magic, too, made it stronger.” She shook her head and shoved her hands into her pockets. “I don't know. This is closer to Karin's magic than mine or Caleb's. Things answer when Karin talks to them. We should bring him back to her….” But Allie glanced at
the glowing wall, then at me. We both knew we couldn't go back that way.

Something moved within the bright light. Some shadow—I blinked and it was gone. Perhaps it was only another vision. Perhaps not.

“We have to go on,” I said, standing. Allie nodded. She reached for my hand and squeezed it, hard. Matthew sniffed at the trail as if he'd understood. “I'm sorry,” I told him. Maybe he'd change back on his own. Or maybe Mom would know what to do. She knew about Matthew's magic, after all.

Knew and hadn't told me. I pushed the thought aside. Caleb's disk felt cold against my skin, another question. I ignored them both and started walking. Allie and Tallow followed me. Matthew followed them. We left the faerie light behind, save for a few glowing pebbles in the path. Even those disappeared after a time, but the cold lingered as the sun grew higher. My breath frosted in front of me again. Maybe that wasn't so strange, though. It was autumn, and in autumn the weather changed swiftly.