Previously, in Blood of the Fae

At the end of Book two, Into Brocéliande, Ruby had rescued her mother, Keera, from the Underworld. But on seeing Lettie, her fairy godmother, trapped, Ruby did not feel free to flee herself, but gave her sword to her mother, Keera so she could rescue Pearl.

Pearl had been visiting the Great Library of Alexandria when demons had attacked and she and Pearl, Tailor and Arthur Faulkner had run to the roof and escaped on the back of Amber the dragon.

Meanwhile, Pearl and Ruby’s Grandparents fail utterly to find their son Aiden and his wife, Keera in the demon mines. Instead, they have managed to get themselves lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of the Underworld and are desperately in need of food and water. Maybe, if they’re lucky, they’ll make it to the demon mines soon. Or, maybe, they’ll meet Asterius in the Underworld.

Read on to discover what has happened to Ruby and her family as they travel into the Underworld.

Into the Underworld Preview begins with:

Cold Iron

September 1952

Lettie whimpered, ignoring the waves of nausea from the iron turning her stomach. Was this a dream? The relentless crack of whips and clank of picks and hammers slamming into stone that had echoed around the enormous cavern were silent. And all eyes were turned to her. It had all happened so fast. And so slow.

Ruby was here, in the demon mines.

She’d arrived like a legend, on a giant hell-hound and rescued her mother—and many of the human workers. Helping them leave on the back of the hell-hound before staying behind in this awful hellscape.

Because she saw me.

Lettie wanted to hide from all the eyes watching her. Pitying her. Hating her for her betrayal of Ruby, or revelling in it. “You should have gone with the others,” Lettie said, waving her arm feebly to encompass the people Ruby had rescued from this terrible place. “If not to save your sister, then to save yourself.”

“Mum will save Pearl, I know it,” Ruby said.

Lettie hoped so. Pearl was a self-righteous, annoying know-it-all, but she cared deeply for Ruby. And Ruby would be devastated if anything happened to her sister.

“That’s enough of your blabber. Take the traitor, Lettie, away!” Queen Persephone shouted. “And then, bring Ruby to me. We have terms to discuss, and an Underworld ball that simply must be perfect.”

Ruby ran toward Lettie, ducking and weaving to avoid the queen’s silver-armoured soldiers. Without her sword to protect her, Ruby couldn’t stop the elegant fae from grabbing her and holding her back.

Queen Persephone waved an angry arm at Lettie. “Go on, Zadie and Querby. Stop standing around like mummers and take that cage. I don’t want to see that sniveling face anymore.”

Zadie crept forward. Even in the gloom, her silken, sunflower-yellow ball gown glowed like summer, bringing out the beautiful green spots on her shoulders. Lettie shook with anger. Zadie’s treachery was the reason Queen Persephone had been sent to Earth. The reason she’d been torn from her precious changeling, Nada, just as the changeling had begun faer transformation from changeling to fae.

As for the young fae, Querby, Lettie didn’t really know her at all. A quiet, elegant tree fae who hadn’t been much for partying, at least back when Lettie had been in FaerLand. Querby wore a green number that complimented Zadie’s yellow one, and faer gold-streaked cream and brown skin glowed like oak wood. Moving elegantly, Querby’s eyes locked on Zadie.

Zadie nodded to the lithe young thing, and together, the two willowy fae wrapped their hands in silks and took hold of the cage’s handles. Lettie smiled at the uncomfortable way they held it between them, their arms extended, to keep the iron of the cage as far away from their bodies as possible.

“Where shall we take her?” Zadie asked.

“Like I care what happens to the pathetic flutter form as long as she’s alive to ensure Ruby’s best behaviour.” Queen Persephone’s face curled in a sneer. “Maybe somewhere high, so my darling Ruby can’t reach. She’s too brave and good to understand how malicious fae can be.”

Lettie swallowed a snort of derision. Persephone wasn’t completely wrong. Even now, Ruby was struggling against the malicious fae holding her, but she had no chance. She was strong for a human, but not nearly strong enough to overpower Queen Persephone’s attendants.

“Lettie!” Ruby cried.

“I’m alright,” Lettie lied, her voice echoing, thin and empty in her ears, as Zadie and Querby raced away down the corridor. Her skin burned from the cold iron as she was bounced onto the bars of the awful metal cage. She dropped and hugged the floor as they trotted further into the dark, glowworm lit corridors, unaffected by either her or Ruby’s distress—desperate, no doubt, to be rid of the iron. Try being caught inside it.

If the Underworld gloom wasn’t enough, everything here was large. Tables, chairs, stairs. All the Queen’s attendants kept their long-limbed so-called elegant form to be like their queen. As they moved away from the demon mines, the décor became rich and opulent. Huge gold seats covered with plump, autumnal throw pillows. Clearly Persephone and Hades were going for a theme, and just as clearly, they loved gold in a way that no fae would ordinarily countenance.

Jostled between the fae, Lettie’s stomach turned, and she vomited. The acrid taste mixed unpleasantly with the stench of iron.

Zadie wrinkled her nose, and the pair ran faster until they reached a large, empty cavern. Stalactites sparkling with glowworms hung from the ceiling.

Zadie and Querby looked at each other and then up at the stalactites until they saw one that curled at the bottom to form a sturdy hook.

“Damn, I hope nobody sees us,” Querby trilled, her neck craning upward.

“I hope we’re strong enough,” Zadie muttered. “It’d be embarrassing having to go back and beg for help.”

Ordinarily Lettie would have sniggered. Their petty concerns were ridiculous. At least, compared to being poisoned on Earth for years and then brought back here to suffer in a literal iron cage that was killing her faster than Earth could have.

But Lettie felt too sick. Too guilty. And weirdly, too sorry for them both. Here they were, stuck here in the miserable Underworld and bossed around by a queen that Zadie, in her heart of hearts, could not stand.

They should be far away, enjoying ambrosia in FaerLand.

In moments, Zadie and Querby had transformed into their flutter forms, no bigger than Lettie. Together, they heaved her cage up to the ceiling so that only a giant or a flier could reach her. Huffing and puffing and turning a glorious shade of silver, they hooked the cage over the misshapen stalactite. 

And then they fluttered down, regained their lumbering human forms and left, leaving Lettie with the silent glowworms for company.

“Zadie?” Lettie said, nursing a thin hope that her old frenemy would think better of leaving her here to die.

There was no answer.

“Zadie?” Lettie sighed and sank back down. Zadie had already betrayed her, and her changeling, Nada, once. What is one more time?

Rooftop

Wednesday 10th September 1952

Griffon wings stirred the air above Keera, scattering bits of paper with their updraft. Tears running down her face, Keera glanced up from the fallen warrior in her arms, and past his chicken-legged walking chair that was still standing protectively over them. Above, a griffon, carrying a heavily muscled woman, wheeled midair—one wing nearly touching the roof, and the other beating frantically. All so the woman could push herself up from the griffon’s saddle and jump down onto the crowded rooftop in a flashy move.  

The griffon squawked and wheeled back to its roost.

Blinking away her tears, Keera watched more people flooding onto the stone roof. Maybe they’d been waiting until it was safer, or maybe they’d heard the ruckus of the demons and the dragon and had run to help. But it was too late now. Too late to save the student, dead in her arms, and too late to save Pearl, or any of her friends, as the red-head had asked her to when she’d given Keera her ruby sword. Yes, Pearl and her friends were safe from the demons, but they’d flown off on a dragon, and into what danger Keera did not know. As soon as Pearl had gone, the demons had disappeared down the stairs as fast as summer rain, leaving only reams of paper fliers in their wake. 

Keera’s fellow Underworld refugees shuffled their feet nervously, caught in a sea of blue-cloaked students and people from the library. Mrs Pickaxe and Mr Spade were back-to-back, white knuckled as they hefted their favourite weapons. Bandit and some of the younger ones were whispering furiously. They nervously eyed the newcomers. Many were arriving in chicken-footed walking chairs similar to the one standing over the body she was holding.

The newcomers appeared to be equally weary of the refugees, and particularly Bandit, who was wiping his hands on grimy khaki trousers.

Keera’s skin prickled as the wind eddied across the roof and she shivered, unused to the cold after so long underground. She felt vulnerable sitting here, holding the brave man in her hands. Something she’d been unable to do when people had died in the Underworld. The change between the heat and drudgery and torment of digging through rock in the demon mines, and feeling the wind tugging at her hair and seeing so much sky, was overwhelming. And she cried for the people she’d lost in there, as much as for the fallen man on the cold stone tiled roof.

A gangly young man with an odd pillow-like contraption strapped to his chest loped toward Keera and the fallen man. “Carmen! Carmen!” he cried, crouching down next to her and the body. The gangly man’s knees pointed upward—his body folded into thirds around the pillow. “Damn it all, Carmen,” he continued. “You were the best Quester there’s ever been.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled around the blue-robed people in chicken-footed walking chairs, their claws skittering on the grey stone tiles as they moved closer.

“I’m sorry,” Keera said, feeling guilty that she was here, under the vast blue sky, alive. And the young man in her arms was not.

A lady in a summer floral dress and matching gloves arrived on the roof, the crowd parting to let her through. “Carmen,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper as she scooped the body out of Keera’s arms and placed it in his walking chair. She swallowed several times and turned to Keera. “Thank you for caring for Carmen. But now, I think we should leave him to his fellow Questers. You and your friends should come with me.” She nodded over to Keera’s tattered fellow escapees, so out of place among the denizens of the library in their mix of clean civilian gear and navy-blue robes.

“And Mz Zelda,” she turned to address the muscled woman who’d arrived so showily on griffon back. “Since I can’t see Glorya anywhere, can I leave you to help the Questers with the arrangements for Carmen’s funeral?” The lady with the floral dress lowered her voice and leaned into the heavily muscled woman, Mz Zelda. “And for our other casualties.”

Mz Zelda frowned. “Wait a minute, Head Librarian Lawson, Glorya took a griffon and went on leave just before the attack. One of her secret missions. I think that’s it arriving back now.” She pointed to a brown speck flying in over the ocean. “I’m sure she’ll be here to help soon, which leaves me free to keep an eye on this lot.”

Keera didn’t much care for the way this Mz Zelda women looked at her and her friends. She was relieved when the Head Librarian Lawson waved a gloved hand at her. “You really should stay and help until she arrives. Carmen and Glorya were so close. She’s going to be devastated.”

Mz Zelda rolled her muscled shoulders. “I don’t believe I’m the best person to break the news. We should leave it to Gormless…Ah, Garret.” She nodded to the long-legged boy with the pillow-like contraption. “I trust I can leave this with you. Head Librarian Lawson and I have other things to attend to.” She nodded in Keera’s direction.

Keera stepped back, mortified, her hand instinctively pulling the ruby decorated sword into a defensive line, with her knees bent and one leg in front of the other.

“Wait!” Head Librarian Lawson said firmly. “Let’s all take a beat. First off, I’m a librarian, Mz Zelda. That means I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I don’t need you, or anyone else, to hold my hand. Moreover, I’m sure the Questers and students could do with your help. They need to look after our fallen, and find out more about why these flyers were dropped during the demon incursion.” She waved a bit of paper in her hand.

Keera glanced at the paper and frowned.

“Need safety and security?

Abigail Lawson is weak. She’s weak on crime, and she’s weak on punishment, and she’s turning the Library of Alexandria into a dangerous place.

Head Librarian Lawson turned to Keera. “So, what do you think this is about?”

“I have no idea,” Keera muttered, acutely aware that the librarian was watching every tiny movement. Still, Keera couldn’t blame her if she was suspicious, and something about the print was weird.

Keera turned the strangely smooth paper over and over. The words rippled like they hadn’t decided what to say. Still, given the content, it was unsurprising Head Librarian Abigail Lawson wanted to get to the bottom of it. “We came in to help someone called Pearl. The red-head who rescued us said she was in danger.”

“Demons were dropping the pamphlets before they arrived,” a Quester piped up.

“They’re saying….” Garret fumed, clutching his pillow and waving a pamphlet over the body of his friend. “They’re saying you’re weak on crime. And that’s how the demons made it in.”

“Load of tosh,” Head Librarian Abigail Lawson muttered. “Questers and library staff, please take a moment to pick them up when you see them. They’re littering my beautiful library. And Mz Zelda, I trust you can look into this and any…trouble…it might cause.

Mz Zelda nodded. “But don’t think I’m just going to leave you with these.” She eyed the refugees and the empty-backed griffon landing in the huge building opposite the library with a no humans allowed engraved into the stone. Some sort of eerie, or menagerie perhaps—but run by its inhabitants. “Damn shame Glorya isn’t here.”

Head Librarian Lawson frowned. “I guess we’ll need to worry about her if she doesn’t turn up soon.”

“We’ll take a look,” a goblin in a walking chair declared. “She might have arrived earlier.” A swathe of Rune Finder Questers hurried down the emergency stairs after her. Some of them didn’t wait for the stairs, scaling down the sheer side of the building like dare devils. Others ran around, picking up the fliers and tucking them into satchels.

“Wait, Head Librarian,” a dark-skinned Quester with ebony hair said. His chair swayed nervously from side to side in time to the twitching of his only leg. “The other Questers will figure out what’s going on, I’m sure. But I’m going to stick with you. I have some information you need.” He handed her a roll of posters with a hard to read look, before glancing back at Keera. No, he was clearly watching Bandit.

“Yes, Harry.” Head Librarian Lawson nodded, leafing through the wanted and missing person posters. The front one had Bandit’s face. Keera recognised the curl of his lip and wide-spaced eyes, although the sketch had been made when he was younger.

“Thank you, Harry.” Abigail tucked them into a large pocket. “Of course, you are free to do what you feel is best. I’m sure Garret and his team will be fine.”

“I agree,” Mz Zelda hurried to say. “Which is why I’m also going to be joining Head Librarian Lawson. We need to find out who these people are. And what they’re up to.” Mz Zelda glared at Keera and her fellow refugees suspiciously, especially Mrs Pickaxe, who still had her trademark pickaxe in one hand.

Keera shrugged. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to know who she was. She didn’t even know her own name. “We’re from…I’ve forgotten what it’s called.” Keera’s head swirled.

“Griffon plague. You’re from the Underworld, aren’t you?” Mz Zelda blanched. Although how someone who was so clearly in command of themselves was worried about a few hungry and tired refugees from the Underworld, Keera wasn’t sure.

Tension reverberated between Mz Zelda and the Head Librarian. After a moment, Mz Zelda dropped her eyes and turned to Garret. “You really need me for back up, Gormless? Sorry, I mean Garret.”

“I’ll be fine.” Garret glared over at the heavily muscled woman. “It’s not like I’ll be doing it all by myself. You go with Head Librarian Lawson.”

“This way, people.” Head Librarian, Lawson said.

As Keera and her fellow refugees were being led away, the Rune Finder Questers kept on talking.

“Don’t worry, we’ll look after him,” the gawky Garret piped up.

There was a murmur of agreement.

Mz Zelda saluted Garret and the remaining Questers and pushed Keera to join her friends traipsing down the stairwell. Head Librarian Lawson stopped every so often to check the broken railings and banisters and mark them with an ink pen.

The library seemed very different now they weren’t being chased by demons. Broken but quiet except for the ticking from the room filled with clocks. Several squirrel-like gremlins were on the stairs there. Many held wrenches and other equipment like they were onto the repairs already.

“Good work,” Librarian Lawson called as she hurried down.

The next floor was the ground floor, and even the corridor here was filled floor to ceiling with books. The corridor ahead opened out into a huge room with fake clouds and a domed ceiling above. But they didn’t go that way. Instead Librarian Lawson took them down another dingier set of wooden stairs, past rooms with rustling paper, and others with cooing pigeons. Tiny rooms. Enormous rooms. All crammed full of books.

With every step, the light was fading. Glowing blue metal hammered along the top of the bookcase-lined walls in various patterns and designs, soon became the only light.

Just as Bandit started muttering something about being led to their doom through the warren of a library, Head Librarian Lawson turned. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Everything’s a bit overwhelming for me right now, as I’m sure it is for all of you. Please excuse me for my lack of manners.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Head Librarian Abigail Lawson. And this is Mz Zelda. We’re almost at the tearooms.”

Mrs Pickaxe held out her free hand for Abigail and Zelda to shake. “I’m known as Mrs Pickaxe, though that’s not my name. I….” She bit her lip. “I’ve forgotten it.”

Mr Spade stepped forward. “And I’m known as Mr Spade.” He grinned as he shook Zelda’s hand. 

Bandit didn’t say anything. But then, neither did Keera or the others. At least nothing more than nodding and murmuring, “Hi.” Maybe, like Keera, they were reserving judgement about the two women. Or maybe they were all just tired. It had been a long day.

Fortunately, the lack of enthusiasm didn’t seem to bother Head Librarian Lawson. “This way, everyone.” She opened a wooden door. “My favourite staff tearoom is through here. Let’s have a cup of tea and figure out what happens next.”

“What do you mean?” Keera asked, clutching the sword the red-headed girl who’d saved them had given her.

“I’m sure you’re all hungry and thirsty,” Head Librarian Abigail Lawson insisted. “And you’d like to know what’s going on. Well, we’re here to help. But I would be obliged if you’d leave any weapons at the door.”

Keera frowned. But, determined to set an example, she carefully placed her sword by the door. “Wouldn’t touch my sword if I were you.” She looked pointedly at Bandit, who flinched and turned away. It hadn’t turned out so well for him the last time he’d tried to steal it.

Mz Zelda watched their conversation closely, her face inscrutable as she stood in the doorway, bulging arms folded under her chest.

Keera and Mrs Pickaxe politely leaned their weapons against the wall.

“And you.” Mz Zelda pointed to a knife at Bandit’s hip.

“Hmm.” Bandit glared at Mz Zelda before dropping the knife and striding into the cluttered tearoom. It had a large central dining table, at least a dozen chairs, a huge couch by the window and bookcases on every internal wall. Buried between the bookcases was a small bench just large enough to stand a jug of heating and a carafe of water. Head Librarian Lawson shook the jug soundly before pouring the water into it.

Keera took a deep breath. She’d only had the red-head’s sword for a short time, but already she felt naked without it. Stay calm. You’re safe now. She expected to smell the dusty aroma of books, but it was the floral scent of tea and the comforting waft of fresh baking that washed over her. Keera’s stomach rumbled rudely, to make sure she knew it still existed.

“Tea will be ready any minute now,” Head Librarian Lawson said, placing leaves…and something else into a strainer. Had anyone else noticed?

The place seemed cosy. And so full of books. Keera felt like she could snuggle up on one of the couches and read—or even better, sleep for a day or two. Instead, she listened to the rumbling of her stomach and pulled up a chair around the large kitchen table. Food, yes, but there was no way she was going to drink the tea that was being brewed.

Abigail Lawson brought out the tray and handed out the gently steaming cups. It smelled so good, like summer roses and honey.

Keera looked into its murky depths before pushing the cup away.

The room spun, and she fell.

Damn.

Homeward Bound

Wednesday 10 September 1952

Pearl half-jumped, half fell, from the saddle on Amber’s back, stumbling onto the stone floor of the dragon half of the eyrie. She was exhausted, but still felt a glow from the love sweeping through her heart.

“Thank you.” She rested a hand gently on Amber’s goldish scales that shimmered like the sun on the ocean.

“I’ll see you soon,” Amber said.

“Promise?” Pearl looked up into her gorgeous golden eyes and let Tailor, Arthur, and Hazel drag her away.

Her heart was heavy as she tripped down the rickety steps and stumbled out onto the path.

Something was horribly wrong. Her mind was fuzzy. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. She remembered the wonder of the library, running from demons, and being swept away to safety by Amber. Carmen! The memory of him was vivid and painful. He’d fallen, saving them from the demons. She’d tried to help, but it had been too little, too late. He was dead.

I should have saved him. She stumbled over the uneven rocks on the forest path.

“Are you okay?” Hazel asked.

Pearl shook her head. “That man…Carmen…we left him, lying there, dead.”

“The demons were after us. We’d have put more people at risk by staying.” Hazel took her arm. “Lean on me. We’ve got to get back before dark.” 

“Come on, this wasn’t all bad.” Arthur strode along as if nothing was wrong. “At least we got what we came for. Now we have the map, we can save your parents. Isn’t that exciting?”

Pearl nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

Tailor threw a consoling arm around her free shoulder. “It’s going to be alright. Let’s get you home.”

Pearl appreciated the gesture, but shrugged him off. Her heart was supposed to ache. Arthur might have succeeded, but she’d failed.  

The sun hovering over the top of the trees. The birds singing happily. Carmen would never see or hear those things again. “And all because we visited the library,” she said, realizing she’d spoken aloud as Tailor stopped.

“No.” Tailor looked into her eyes. “You mustn’t think that. Bad things happen, but you can’t take the blame if you didn’t do them.”

Pearl nodded absently, her thoughts going round and round her head. Amber swooping in to rescue them. Carmen’s chair smashing itself over the head of a grey stone demon.

Nobody talked for a long time. “You got a good excuse for being late?” Hazel asked when they reached Earth. Long fingers of sunlight and shadow raked across the ground carpeted in gold and brown autumn leaves.

“Yeah,” Pearl replied. “Good enough for Ruby, anyway.”

Although, after today, maybe confiding her secret to Ruby might be a good idea. With the map, they would find Mum and Dad, and Ruby needn’t worry, or put herself at risk by working for Burcham.

After all, it was Burcham’s fault that their parents were missing. He was as likely to steal Ruby away as to help her.

Mercy

Ruby sighed, pulling the brush through Persephone’s lustrous dark hair.

All day it had been: Do this. Do that. Do the other, or we’ll hurt Lettie.

“You may go now.” Queen Persephone waved a languorous hand. “Wenyie, send her to her rooms.”

Ruby didn’t wait to be asked twice. She followed the elegant Wenyie along a corridor lined with gold chairs festooned with cushions in every colour of autumn. They matched Wenyie’s beautiful dress that shone silver-gold with hints of autumn-red.

One of the fae sauntered over to them, peeling herself away from a green clad fae with gold-streaked cream and brown skin. The fae strutting toward her had green-speckled shoulders and long, ethereally beautiful limbs. Fae wore a gorgeous sunflower yellow dress that deserved to see the sunlight, and not be trapped down here in the perpetual gloom. “Why did you do it?” the green-speckled fae whispered. “Why did you stay when you could have escaped?”

“Lettie’s my friend.”

Wenyie burst into laughter. “That’s priceless. What a fool you are!” Fae sniggered and pulled Ruby’s arm to hurry her along the corridor. The fae in the yellow silk gown dropped back. Alone, fae trailed behind Ruby and Wenyie soft as a whisper.

“Your room’s there,” Wenyie said dismissively. Fae led Ruby into a silk-draped room carved from stone. It was filled with a mix of wickerwork and heavy stone furniture. The bed was strange, like a giant sky-blue pillow on a wicker base. Next to it was a stone bedside table topped with a square of matching sky-blue silk.

“See the silver bell on the bedside table?”

Ruby nodded, overwhelmed by the cold extravagance. Or maybe it was the eerie high cavern ceilings decorated with jewels and lit with sparkling glowworms. Despite the beauty surrounding her, it all felt so empty.

“Do not defile it with your touch,” Wenyie was saying, bringing Ruby’s attention back to the silver bell. “But keep those clod-filled ears of yours open—for it will ring when the queen needs you. Return the way we’ve just been, and make sure you look respectable.” She sneered and turned back to the fae with the green speckled shoulders and yellow dress. “Zadie, do not stay and gloat overlong, the Queen is sure to want your return soon.”

Zadie gave Wenyie a feral smile and stepped aside to let her pass.

When Wenyie was out of sight, the yellow-gowned fae crowded close, showing off her pointed teeth—so like the pointed teeth of Ruby’s nightmares. “So, Ruby? Really? Why are you here? Did you not see the queen’s mirror? You could go any time. It’s down the hall. I’ll show you.”

Ruby shook her head. “I’ll never abandon Lettie.”

“Why not? I don’t get it.” Faer eyes narrowed. “Surely, you’d be better off.”

“What would ever give you that idea?” Ruby asked, puzzled. “How could I ever be better off knowing Lettie was in mortal danger? I’d be wracked with guilt. Also…I need her. And I think she needs me.”

The fae shook her head. “The pair of you are fools.”

Ruby smiled. “Maybe. I’ve done some foolish things, but rescuing Lettie and getting out of here will not be one of them.”

Zadie cackled with laughter. “You’re such a fool. You’d starve for your naivety. Damn.” Then she sighed and checked the corridor before returning. “Here, I give these to you. I promise on my life, they’re safe.” She held out slivers of honeycomb and a vial of ambrosia.

Ruby hesitated. Don’t eat the food…without invitation.

“You doubt my promise. I tell you once again, upon my life, it’s from FaerLand, not the Underworld.”

Don’t touch what is not yours, or eat the food without invitation, for it belongs to fae, and the fae have no mercy for mortals.

And yet here one is showing me mercy. “Thank you. Truly,” she added. “That’s very kind.”

The fae blushed silver and bustled away.

Ruby tucked the honey away and sipped the sweet concoction, determined to make the food last. Stomach settled and thirst quenched with the heady brew, she turned over to sleep and tumbled into nightmares.

Empty Home

Wednesday 10th September 1952

The chickens squawked when Pearl arrived home, flapping their wings and chasing after her. They’d been tearing up the garden. Even the roses weren’t safe in their desperate search for food. One had been half dug up and was on a precarious lean.

Rats, they should have been fed and settled in the chicken house hours ago. Pearl filled their feeders and trudged inside.

The house was dark and the grandfather clock in the dining room showed the time as just after seven.

“Ruby!” she called, to no reply. The kitchen was empty and cold. Of course it was. Ruby would never have let the chickens go hungry like that.

Still, it was odd that Ruby wasn’t home yet.

Pearl looked for a note on the fridge, or some sign of where Ruby had gone. Nothing. She opened the back door and checked outside again. The car wasn’t there.

Maybe Ruby had gone out. She could be looking for me.

Pearl pulled stale crackers from the top cupboard and made herself a cheese and cracker sandwich before collapsing on the couch.

Ruby, where are you? Exhausted, Pearl shut her eyes for just a moment. When she opened them, she was startled to see the morning sun peeking through the curtains.

Ruby? Surely Ruby would have woken me. Icy fear coursing through her veins, Pearl pushed herself up from the kitchen chair and raced upstairs so fast that the wooden stairs rattled under her feet.

Ruby’s bed hadn’t been slept in. She was gone.

Keera Wakes

Thursday 11th September 1952

Keera woke to the soft cooing of a pigeon. Her head was surprisingly clear, if a little sore on the side where it had been resting on the table.

She sat up and looked around at the slumped refugees. She remembered falling asleep over a cup of tea smelling of summer roses and honey. There had been more people here then. Questers on chicken-legged chairs. Without them, the place was quiet—except for the odd snore from her fellow refugees. Then she saw Harry waiting and watching everything calmly from a nook by the window, his chair surprisingly still, like it, too, had fallen asleep. A pigeon landed on his hand, cooed softly, and then fluttered back out through a bird-sized hole over the top of the door.

Keera struggled to stand.

Mz Zelda firmly pushed her back down.

“What is this?” Keera demanded.

“By the book, I can’t believe you’re awake already,” Head Librarian, Abigail Lawson muttered.

“What did you give us before?” Keera asked. Her head whirled. Had she escaped from harsh captivity, into a jail of books presided over by Head Librarian Lawson and Mz Zelda? It wasn’t the worst of swaps, but freedom would be better.

“Just a little rose water,” Head Librarian Lawson piped up. “Sorry about that. I saw this gentleman’s WANTED for crimes poster.” She nodded toward the snoring Bandit. “So, I thought we’d better double check to see if more of you weren’t criminals. Can’t be too careful.”

“Good, then surely I can go.” Keera tried to rise.

Again, Mz Zelda stopped her—her hands resting heavily on Keera’s shoulders.

“I really would appreciate it if you could stay and listen to my offer,” Harry piped up earnestly. “I just…I think it’s best for everyone.”

“Thank you for asking,” Keera said, flashing a pointed glance back at Mz Zelda. The sleep-inducing tea was gone, and none of them were in chains.

Two librarians entered, carrying silver trays. They filled the table with platters of scones and trays of strong black tea. No sign or scent of roses. Thank goodness.

Maybe it’s okay. And maybe it isn’t. Despite the ache in her stomach, she hesitated before touching anything on the table. “What are you going to do with him?” Keera nodded toward Bandit, who took that moment to sit up, yawn theatrically and rub his upper arm.

“Haven’t decided,” Abigail replied. “To be honest, I haven’t decided what to do with any of you.”

“Hmm.” Keera frowned.

Others were waking. Mrs Pickaxe, one of the bravest people Keera knew, reached out, picked up a cheese scone and took a bite. “What is this? They’re amazing!” she gasped, belatedly covering her mouth with a hand.

“Cheese scones. We thought finger food would be best. Do try the tea, we have earl grey, jasmine and my Darjeeling blend—with notes of grape that pair beautifully with these scones of Cook’s.”

Keera’s head was swirling with ideas about how to escape. But there was no hurry…there was no use in panicking. She followed Mr Spade and Mrs Pickaxe’s example and grabbed a freshly-buttered cheese scone. Biting into the crumbly, cheesy goodness was a revelation after all the scraps they’d been eating.

Keera took a sip of tea. “You’re right Mrs Pickaxe, these are amazing. And the tea’s lovely.” She smiled, savouring the subtle fruity notes. Within moments, the scone was gone. She refilled her tea.

“I don’t suppose there’s some more food?” She looked around at the near-empty plates, unwilling to eat more than her share, despite her stomach’s protests that it was still empty.

“If we’re going to regain their memories, we really should be going…” the one-legged Quester prompted.

“Harry, stop being so impatient,” Head Librarian, Abigail Lawson warned, waggling a finger.

“Memories?” Mr Spade said, echoing Keera’s thoughts. Imagine knowing what had happened before they’d been trapped in the demon mines. The lack of memories was an emptiness that pulled on her soul. “Wait. Did the young man say we could get our memories back?” she demanded, hope surging through her.

“Harry, you shouldn’t be promising anything,” Mz Zelda warned. “And even if they go to the banks of the River Lethe, what are the chances they’ll find the vials holding their memories?”

“Quite good.” Harry shrugged. “Of course, not going would decimate those chances. But really, there’s no reason not to.”

“Is it dangerous?” Mr Spade asked.

“Not particularly,” Mz Zelda said. “Apart from being uncomfortably close to the Underworld, but the griffons are there, so you’re unlikely to be ambushed.”

“Now, Harry, what were you saying?”

“Have you shown them all their posters?” Harry prompted.

Not everyone had one, but most did. Even if they were just wanted posters, like Bandit had, it seemed better than the torment of knowing nothing at all. The relief as she saw a poster of her and a red-headed man hit Keera in the gut. The handsome red-haired man smiled back at her. Their names, Keera and Aiden, were written underneath their pictures. She remembered Aiden as older, the man who’d worked alongside her until a rock fell, crushing his leg. The devastation she’d felt when he’d been dragged away was still with her, along with a hollow grief she could not shake. Keera brushed her hand over the old worn poster, her need to remember who she was sung through her. She read the bottom to find out more, but there was nothing except the names of his parents, Abigail and John Andersen and a note to bring any information to Carmen, the very Quester who had died in her arms, or the missing Glorya.

Next to her, Mr Spade and Mrs Pickaxe were looking at an artist’s depiction of the two as a smiling couple, complete with a cute baby grinning from Mrs Pickaxe’s arms.

Keera wasn’t surprised. They’d always gravitated to each other the same way that she and the handsome red-headed man had.

She wiped away a tear, not wanting the Questers or the librarians to see her crying. “So, Librarian Lawson, you’re going to let us find our memories, aren’t you?” Keera half-asked, half-demanded. “We need to know who we were.”

“What we’d do with all of you here, I’m sure I don’t know. The only question is, what’s the safest way?”

“But Abigail, you can’t just let them all go at once,” Mz Zelda said. “We may need the griffons for defence or…”

Head Librarian, Abigail Lawson threw a steely glare in Mz Zelda’s direction. Mz Zelda’s jaw clapped shut. “Of course, Head Librarian Lawson,” she muttered.

Oblivious, Harry encouraged his walking chair to skitter closer to the table. “So, I’ve been thinking we need to get in and out fast on the griffons. But there are only enough for me and all the prison…um, I mean, the refugees.”

A chorus of complaints broke out and was quickly hushed by Abigail’s raised hand. “Why you, Harry?”

“Because, afterwards, I’m going to find Glorya. For those who don’t know, Glorya found Aiden’s, this woman’s husband’s, tears and gave them to his parents.” He nodded toward Keera. “Once Keera finds her memories… I don’t know…”

The other Questers nodded solemnly while Keera’s mind wheeled. What does Harry really want? Who was Aiden? Aside from someone his parents were looking for? And just as importantly: where are my parents? Why aren’t they looking for me? Who am I?   

“Also,” Harry continued earnestly. “I know the riverbank where the vials are stored. I’ve been there before.”

“You can’t be thinking of letting them go, Abigail,” Mz Zelda snapped.

Keera noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that Mz Zelda’s hand held an ugly red welt similar to the one Bandit had earned. Serves her right for trying to pick up my sword. No, the red-headed girl’s sword.

Mz Zelda glared at her. “Not after they brought the demons here to destroy the library.”

“We did no such thing,” Keera said. “We were rescued by a red-head who sent us here on a dog with eyes…well, really big eyes. I think it was a hell hound.”

Mz Zelda sneered. “And the sword? How do you explain the fact you have Ruby’s sword? Did you steal it from her when you arrived?”

Keera shook her head. “No, I told you the red-head gave it to me when she rescued us. She’s still in the Underworld.”

“A fine story, and I do not…”

“Just wait,” Harry said. His chair scuttled over to Head Librarian Lawson and he began shuffling between posters. He picked out one with Keera Sword Master on the top and a sketchy full-figure drawing of her when she was younger. “Ah yes. Here it is. Keera is the missing Sword Master. The sword at the door could not be handled if it wasn’t freely given.”

“Oh, I see the resemblance now,” Mz Zelda muttered.

Keera stared at the picture of her with glossy, tight braids falling over the rich dark skin of her shoulders. Her long forest-green dress had flares of rose-red glinting in the folds. “I looked so…” She wiped away tears. “If only I knew who that person was.”

“Feel free to take the poster along with the other one, dear.” Abigail smiled around, all friendly now. Not that Keera thought much about the librarian, or her motivations, when this tiny slice of her old life was so tantalizing. “That goes for you all,” Abigail continued. “Feel free to keep the posters we’ve given you. I hope the clues to your identities have been helpful and that you find any loved ones who’ve been looking for you.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Bandit interrupted. “Let’s get to the point. What’s this on my arm?” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a tattoo of a broken quill on his upper arm.

Librarian Lawson pinned him with her stare. “Anyone who has that temporary tattoo cannot return to the library. If they do, they will sicken and fall into a coma.”

Keera swallowed and pulled up both her sleeves. Nothing. Both Mr Spade and Mrs Pickaxe also appeared free of the temporary tattoos. Several others sucked in their breaths and exchanged mutinous glances.

“Ahem,” Librarian Lawson said. “I appreciate everyone understands this is an extreme effort to protect the library. And of course, for those of you who don’t have one, the library’s resources are available to help contact loved ones if you need to.”

“How can we get it off?” A wide-eyed girl asked, rubbing the purple-black mark. A girl Keera wouldn’t have thought would say boo to a goose.

“The tattoo itself will disappear, but the curse that stops you from coming back to the library will not,” Head Librarian Abigail Lawson said. “It lasts until a librarian removes it, and the chances of that are very slim.”

“So, you are going to let me go?” Bandit eyed them all defiantly.

“Yes. You’ll all be going to the banks of the River Lethe, where Harry has kindly offered to help people find their memories.”

“All this for free?” someone blurted.

“Riding our griffons isn’t free. You’re all providing an escort to remove dangerous criminals from the library. Think of it as your payment to us for providing you food, transport and information,” Librarian Lawson said. “Now, take these lunches we packed for you and off you go. Mz Zelda will help saddle the griffons and send you on your way. But be aware, our griffons will be contracted to take you to only one more destination after the river bank. Then they will fly back here. Understand?”

Keera glanced over at Bandit. His eyes were lidded, as if he was trying to hide his emotions, but Keera wasn’t fooled. She’d never seen him so angry.

Pearl Confronts Burcham

Thursday 11th September 1952

Pearl searched through Ruby’s room for any clues. Not a thing.

Ruby’s window overlooking the driveway was speckled with raindrops. A quick glance confirmed the old Austin Twelve was still missing. If I find the car, I’ll find Ruby.

She raced back downstairs and scrabbled in the top drawer of the wooden desk hallway for the spare car key.

No key. Where is it? Frustrated, she threw a handful of string and paperclips, old letters and weirdly shaped keys out onto the desk. There it was, wedged into the back of the drawer.

Deftly pocketing the key did not solve her problems. There was still no car, and no Ruby. Maybe I should call the police?

No. What would I tell them? “My sister might be in Brocéliande and taken by demons. Or a witch or…”

They’d send her straight to a mental institution.

Pearl pushed back her hair and tried to think. She needed to go to Ruby’s law firm and confront Burcham, but she couldn’t go in smelling like smoke, dragon and old gym socks. They’d throw her out faster than a drunk at her old school ball.

After choosing a lovely cream and red floral swing dress to go with her warm red swing coat, she stepped into the metal bath-tub and under the cold shower.

What am I going to say when I get there? She wondered as the unheated water stung her skin. The shower was just warming up when she stepped out. Even if I can think of nothing to say—at least I’ll look nice.

Bundling the coat on, she strode out into the rain. Fortunately, it was clearing. By the time she arrived outside Burcham, Steadfast and Silvertongue, a rogue ray of sunshine pierced through the clouds to land on their dark green Austin Twelve parked outside. Pearl stopped to make sure Ruby wasn’t in the car before turning to face the imposing stone building. She strode up to the fancy door with the law firm’s name, Burcham, Steadfast and Silvertongue Inc, emblazoned in gold-stencilled letters on the glass.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy door. Inside, the lemony scent of wood oil filled the air, along with the clack of typewriters. A strip of plush red carpet ran along the centre of the dark wooden floor. A spry lady, with grey hair swept up into a tight bun, peered at Pearl from over a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Pearl lifted her chin and strode down the carpet, past the marble pedestal with a bronze statuette of The Lady of Justice at the door.

“Stop right there.” She looked Pearl up and down and sneered, “What are you doing here, young lady? You’re far too early for an appointment.”

Pearl smiled and kept on walking. It was all very posh, with heavy wooden doors to either side of the corridor. Some were open, revealing comfy leather chairs in well-appointed offices with solid oak desks that gleamed with polish and gold-framed landscapes.

The lady tapped her silver watch.

Pearl ignored her and strode up to the imposing reception desk of dark curved wood with gold inlay at the end of the corridor. She marshalled the pit of her stomach and faced the grumpy old biddy even as the sound of clattering typists slowed. “I’m looking for my sister, Ruby.”

Has the typing stopped? Pearl could almost feel ears craning to listen in on their conversation.

A young lady poked her head around the door. “Oh, I was kind of hoping you were Lainey. No one has seen her or the cat since yesterday.”

“That’s enough gossip.” The receptionist’s scowl could have frosted over hot pies. “Typists, get back to work.”

The young lady disappeared back into the room and, once again, the corridor echoed with the faint clatter of typing.

“Young lady.” The lady used her middle finger to push the nose wire of her horn-rimmed glasses. “You’d better make yourself scarce. Nobody…”

A dumpy old man stuffed into a tweed suit opened his door. “Miss Alpine, what’s happening here?”

The frosty old lady, Miss Alpine, glared at Pearl as if Pearl had tracked mud down the corridor, or worse. “The girl doesn’t have an appointment. She needs to leave.”

“Hi. I’m Pearl, Ruby’s sister.” Pearl stuck out her hand. At least the rosy faced gentleman looked trustworthy—even if he did look like a character from Wind in the Willows stuffed into a suit.

“Good, good,” he said, “I’m Burcham.” The man proceeded to wave Pearl into his office, ignoring the secretary’s murmurs of disapproval. 

Burcham? He didn’t seem nearly as scary or evil as Gran and Grandad would have her believe. But his demeanor must be a lie. Ruby had disappeared from this very building. Otherwise, why would our car still be outside?

Pearl looked left and right. She had no friends here. Certainly not Miss Alpine. So, this is what it’s like to walk into the lion’s den. She squared her jaw, noting the comfy leather chairs on either side of his solid oak desk.

Burcham politely led her into his spacious, wood-panelled office and toward a chair. “Please sit.” He looked haggard, dark rings circling his eyes. His hair sticking up at crazy angles as if he’d been running his hands through it, or slept on it.

Pearl hovered nervously. “Ah, I’ve come to find Ruby?”

“I gathered as much.” He slid his bulk behind his heavy wooden desk. “But first, what a lovely surprise to see you alive and well. Prof Faulkner said you ran into some trouble?”

Pearl nodded. Words were racing through her brain, but none jumped out as being in the least sensible. Should I answer his question, or press on?

Burcham rubbed his hands nervously. “I’m afraid I’ve got rather bad news,” he said at last. “Ruby went into the Library of Alexandria yesterday. We think Baba Yaga might have a hand in her disappearance. It’s hard to know. Anyway, Silvertongue says she had a vision, and got it into her head that she had to visit the old wi—, er lady.”

Pearl breathed a sigh of relief. At least Ruby hadn’t been caught up in the demon incursion. Probably. So that was good news, surely? Baba Yaga hadn’t seemed that dangerous. At least not as dangerous as many of the old fairy tales would have her believe.

Outside, an old man feeding pigeons on the park bench across the road caught her eye. The freedom of being able to just go and feed the birds, and not worry about anything, called to her.

Burcham coughed. She turned back to the man her grandparents thought was an enemy of the family as he wrung his hands miserably.

“Why are you so sad? Surely, this is good news. Ruby’s still alive.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. The demons work for Hades and I have it on good authority that Queen Persephone is obsessed with Ruby. She’d never allow King Hades or his demons to harm a hair on her head. Whereas Baba Yaga can get violent even if she often means well.”

Pearl licked her lips. Ruby would be alright. Men didn’t understand Baba Yaga, that was all. That’s why so many of her stories were so vicious. The men writing them didn’t appreciate a fierce old woman who could overpower them on a whim, so they spread their lies and fear.

“I know it’s not great. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what happened.” Burcham blathered. “And now, I really should be going back.” He stood.

“Wait, you said Ruby had a vision. What did she see?” Pearl prompted.

“Silvertongue says she saw you in trouble—caught between demons and a fire-breathing dragon.” He pinned her with his gaze. “And that’s why she was looking to save you.”

Pearl nodded, then shook her head. “Amber, the dragon rescued me. You’d think someone would have told her dragons aren’t that dangerous. Maybe Baba Yaga has done just that.”

Burcham coughed. “Well, in any case, I’m still worried about her.” He held up a hand before Pearl could interrupt, even though she was about to say that she was also concerned. Mostly about the murderous demons on the rampage, but also about Baba Yaga. Something must have happened for Ruby not to come home.

“You could come back into Brocéliande with me,” Burcham offered. “I think together we have a better chance—”

A striking gentleman with long lashes and honey-highlighted brown hair knocked gently at the open door. His nails were a beautiful mossy-green to match his eyes. “What’s all this?” he asked in a tone that sent shivers down Pearl’s spine. “Poor girl, are you alright?” For all his height, he moved like liquid silver.

“I just. No. I think…” Pearl stood. “I think we should split up. You look for her in…wherever you’re looking.” Her cheeks reddened. He really was beautiful, but why was he looking at her like he was a movie star, and she the love interest?

“Please, let us help,” Silvertongue said, reaching out an elegant hand with perfectly manicured moss-green nails.

Pearl felt a surge of attraction, but she pulled away. His words seemed off. Like he was expecting her to fall into his arms, or beg for her help. Either way, she wanted no part of it. Not today.

“Oh, really. You know it’ll be much faster if you come with us.” The gorgeous green-eyed man turned a smile on her that any other day might have melted her bones like a heroine in a romance novel. But with Ruby missing, the warm glow she felt was punctured by cold slivers of worry. Besides, as Gran had always said, Burcham, Steadfast and Silvertongue weren’t to be trusted. She’d be a fool to trust them now, after Ruby’s disappearance.

“Thank you, Mr Burcham and Silvertongue. I’ll be back if I have any more questions.” Pearl nodded firmly and escaped from the room, sidling past the handsome man and trying not to look too deeply into his striking moss green eyes.  

As soon as she closed the door to the lawyers behind her, she wanted to rush back in. They might be untrustworthy, but they were right about being able to get her to the library faster than anyone else.

Also, there was the thing Burcham had told her about Baba Yaga.

Had Ruby fallen foul of the old witch? That Baba Yaga was not a myth was no surprise. The smell of dogs and chickens always accompanied her vision of the old lady in the stories Grandad had read. Like she’d met the old woman when she was younger. Even if she couldn’t remember it, she could remember the smell of wet fur, chickens, and a hint of something sharp and spiky.

First things first, Pearl thought as she raced to the car in the rain and fumbled the spare keys into the lock. I have to get back into Brocéliande. And to do that, I need help. But who can I trust?

If you enjoyed the preview, you’ll love the books. Hurry and pick up your copies today to discover worlds of fairytales and mythology. Or start reading the series free on KU for a limited time: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BFBD3JGW

Happy reading,
A.J. Ponder