About the Author

JULIE KAGAWA was born in Sacramento, California. But nothing exciting really happened to her there. So, at the age of nine she and her family moved to Hawaii, which she soon discovered was inhabited by large carnivorous insects, colonies of house geckos and frequent hurricanes. She spent much of her time in the ocean, when she wasnât getting chased out of it by reef sharks, jellyfish and the odd eel.

When not swimming for her life, Julie immersed herself in books, often to the chagrin of her school teachers, who would find she hid novels behind her maths textbooks during class. Her love of reading led her to pen some very dark and gruesome stories. The gory tales faded with time, but the passion for writing remained, long after she graduated and was supposed to get a real job.

To pay the rent, Julie worked in different bookstores over the years. She worked as a professional dog trainer for several years, until she stopped training to write full-time.

Other Books By

Coming soon from Julie Kagawa

THE IRON DAUGHTER

(The Iron Fey â Book 2)

THE IRON QUEEN

(The Iron Fey â Book 3)

available as eBooks now!

The

IRON KING

JULIE KAGAWA

For Nick, Brandon and Villis. May we continue

to beat those dead horses into the ground.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The road to publication is a long and arduous one, and I have many people to thank for seeing me through to the end. My parents, for encouraging me to go for my dreams instead of getting a real job. My sister, Kimiko, and my brother-in-law, Mike, for their willingness to read those horrible first drafts. My mentor, Julianne Lee, and the wonderful authors, teachers and students at Green River Writers of Louisville, KY. My fabulous agent, Laurie McLean, for giving me a chance, and my editor, Natashya Wilson, for making the dream happen. My writing group, for all the weekends weâve spent together, bleeding on one anotherâs manuscripts, shredding one anotherâs characters and beating dead horses.

But mostly, I want to thank my amazing husband, Nick, who has been my writing partner, cheerleader, editor, sounding board, proofreader, voice of reason, and always willing to talk story, plot and character whenever I got myself stuck. I couldnât have done it without him.

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

The Ghost in the Computer

Ten years ago, on my sixth birthday, my father disappeared.

No, he didnât leave. Leaving would imply suitcases and empty drawers, and late birthday cards with ten-dollar bills stuffed inside. Leaving would imply he was unhappy with Mom and me, or that he found a new love elsewhere. None of that was true. He also did not die, because we wouldâve heard about it. There was no car crash, no body, no police mingling about the scene of a brutal murder. It all happened very quietly.

On my sixth birthday, my father took me to the park, one of my favorite places to go at that time. It was a lonely little park in the middle of nowhere, with a running trail and a misty green pond surrounded by pine trees. We were at the edge of the pond, feeding the ducks, when I heard the jingle of an ice cream truck in the parking lot over the hill. When I begged my dad to get me a Creamsicle, he laughed, handed me a few bills, and sent me after the truck.

That was the last time I saw him.

Later, when the police searched the area, they discovered his shoes at the edge of the water, but nothing else. They sent divers into the pond, but it was barely ten feet down, and they found nothing but branches and mud at the bottom. My father had disappeared without a trace.

For months afterward, I had a recurring nightmare about standing at the top of that hill, looking down and seeing my father walk into the pond. As the water closed over his head, I could hear the ice cream truck singing in the background, a slow, eerie song with words I could almost understand.

Every time I tried to listen to them, however, Iâd wake up.

Not long after my fatherâs disappearance, Mom moved us far away, to a tiny little hick town in the middle of the Louisiana bayou. Mom said she wanted to âstart over,â but I always knew, deep down, that she was running from something.

It would be another ten years before I discovered what.

MY NAME IS MEGHAN CHASE.

In less than twenty-four hours, Iâll be sixteen years old.

Sweet sixteen. It has a magical ring to it. Sixteen is supposed to be the age when girls become princesses and fall in love and go to dances and proms and such. Countless stories, songs, and poems have been written about this wonderful age, when a girl finds true love and the stars shine for her and the handsome prince carries her off into the sunset.

I didnât think it would be that way for me.

The morning before my birthday, I woke up, showered, and rummaged through my dresser for something to wear. Normally, Iâd just grab whatever cleanish thing is on the floor, but today was special. Today was the day Scott Waldron would finally notice me. I wanted to look perfect. Of course, my wardrobe is sadly lacking in the popular-attire department. While other girls spend hours in front of their closets crying, âWhat should I wear?â my drawers basically hold three things: clothes from Goodwill, hand-me-downs, and overalls.

I wish we werenât so poor. I know pig farming isnât the most glamorous of jobs, but youâd think Mom could afford to buy me at least one pair of nice jeans. I glared at my scanty wardrobe in disgust. Oh, well, I guess Scott will have to be wowed with my natural grace and charm, if I donât make an idiot of myself in front of him.

I finally slipped into cargo pants, a neutral green T-shirt, and my only pair of ratty sneakers, before dragging a brush through my white-blond hair. My hair is straight and very fine, and was doing that stupid floating thing again, where it looked like Iâd jammed my finger up an electrical outlet.

Yanking it into a ponytail, I went downstairs.

Luke, my stepfather, sat at the table, drinking coffee and leafing through the townâs tiny newspaper, which reads more like our high school gossip column than a real news source. âFive-legged calf born on Pattersonâs farm,â the front page screamed; you get the idea. Ethan, my four-year-old half brother, sat on his fatherâs lap, eating a Pop-Tart and getting crumbs all over Lukeâs overalls. He clutched Floppy, his favorite stuffed rabbit, in one arm and occasionally tried to feed it his breakfast; the rabbitâs face was full of crumbs and fruit filling.

Ethan is a good kid. He has his fatherâs curly brown hair, but like me, inherited Momâs big blue eyes. Heâs the type of kid old ladies stop to coo at, and total strangers smile and wave at him from across the street. Mom and Luke dote on their baby, but it doesnât seem to spoil him, thank goodness.

âWhereâs Mom?â I asked as I entered the kitchen. Opening the cabinet doors, I scoured the boxes of cereal for the one I liked, wondering if Mom remembered to pick it up. Of course she hadnât. Nothing but fiber squares and disgusting marshmallow cereals for Ethan. Was it so hard to remember Cheerios?

Luke ignored me and sipped his coffee. Ethan chewed his Pop-Tart and sneezed on his fatherâs arm. I slammed the cabinet doors with a satisfying bang.

âWhereâs Mom?â I asked, a bit louder this time. Luke jerked his head up and finally looked at me. His lazy brown eyes, like those of a cow, registered mild surprise.

âOh, hello, Meg,â he said calmly. âI didnât hear you come in. What did you say?â

I sighed and repeated my question for the third time.

âShe had a meeting with some of the ladies at church,â Luke murmured, turning back to his paper. âShe wonât be back for a few hours, so youâll have to take the bus.â

I always took the bus. I just wanted to remind Mom that she was supposed to take me to get a learnerâs permit this weekend. With Luke, it was hopeless. I could tell him something fourteen different times, and heâd forget it the moment I left the room. It wasnât that Luke was mean or malicious, or even stupid. He adored Ethan, and Mom seemed truly happy with him. But, every time I spoke to my step dad, he would look at me with genuine surprise, as if heâd forgotten I lived here, too.

I grabbed a bagel from the top of the fridge and chewed it sullenly, keeping an eye on the clock. Beau, our German shepherd, wandered in and put his big head on my knee. I scratched him behind the ears and he groaned. At least the dog appreciated me.

Luke stood, gently placing Ethan back in his seat. âAll right, big guy,â he said, kissing the top of Ethanâs head. âDad has to fix the bathroom sink, so you sit there and be good. When Iâm done, weâll go feed the pigs, okay?â

ââKay,â Ethan chirped, swinging his chubby legs. âFloppy wants to see if Ms. Daisy had her babies yet.â

Lukeâs smile was so disgustingly proud, I felt nauseous.

âHey, Luke,â I said as he turned to go, âbet you canât guess what tomorrow is.â

âMmm?â He didnât even turn around. âI donât know, Meg. If you have plans for tomorrow, talk to your mother.â He snapped his fingers, and Beau immediately left me to follow him. Their footsteps faded up the stairs, and I was alone with my half brother.

Ethan kicked his feet, regarding me in that solemn way of his. âI know,â he announced softly, putting his Pop-Tart on the table. âTomorrowâs your birthday, isnât it? Floppy told me, and I remembered.â

âYeah,â I muttered, turning and lobbing the bagel into the trash can. It hit the wall with a thump and dropped inside, leaving a greasy smear on the paint. I smirked and decided to leave it.

âFloppy says to tell you happy early birthday.â

âTell Floppy thanks.â I ruffled Ethanâs hair as I left the kitchen, my mood completely soured. I knew it. Mom and Luke would completely forget my birthday tomorrow. I wouldnât get a card, or a cake, or even a âhappy birthdayâ from anyone. Except my kid brotherâs stupid stuffed rabbit. How pathetic was that?

Back in my room, I grabbed books, homework, gym clothes, and the iPod Iâd spent a year saving for, despite Lukeâs disdain of those âuseless, brain-numbing gadgets.â In true hick fashion, my stepfather dislikes and distrusts anything that could make life easier. Cell phones? No way, weâve got a perfectly good landline. Video games? Theyâre the devilâs tools, turning kids into delinquents and serial killers. Iâve begged Mom over and over to buy me a laptop for school, but Luke insists that if his ancient, clunky PC is good enough for him, itâs good enough for the family. Never mind that dial-up takes flipping forever. I mean, who uses dial-up anymore?

I checked my watch and swore. The bus would arrive shortly, and I had a good ten-minute walk to the main road. Looking out the window, I saw the sky was gray and heavy with rain, so I grabbed a jacket, as well. And, not for the first time, I wished we lived closer to town.

I swear, when I get a license and a car, I am never coming back to this place.

âMeggie?â Ethan hovered in the doorway, clutching his rabbit under his chin. His blue eyes regarded me somberly. âCan I go with you today?â

âWhat?â Shrugging into my jacket, I gazed around for my backpack. âNo, Ethan. Iâm going to school now. Big-kids school, no rug rats allowed.â

I turned away, only to feel two small arms wrap around my leg. Putting my hand against the wall to avoid falling, I glared down at my half brother. Ethan clung to me doggedly, his face tilted up to mine, his jaw set. âPlease?â he begged. âIâll be good, I promise. Take me with you? Just for today?â

With a sigh, I bent down and picked him up.

âWhatâs up, squirt?â I asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Mom would need to cut it soon; it was starting to look like a birdâs nest. âYouâre awfully clingy this morning. Whatâs going on?â

âScared,â Ethan muttered, burying his face in my neck.

âYouâre scared?â

He shook his head. âFloppyâs scared.â

âWhatâs Floppy scared of?â

âThe man in the closet.â

I felt a small chill slide up my back. Sometimes, Ethan was so quiet and serious, it was hard to remember he was only four. He still had childish fears of monsters under his bed and bogeymen in his closet. In Ethanâs world, stuffed animals spoke to him, invisible men waved to him from the bushes, and scary creatures tapped long nails against his bedroom window. He rarely went to Mom or Luke with stories of monsters and bogeymen; from the time he was old enough to walk, he always came to me.

I sighed, knowing he wanted me to go upstairs and check, to reassure him that nothing lurked in his closet or under his bed. I kept a flashlight on his dresser for that very reason.

Outside, lightning flickered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I winced. My walk to the bus was not going to be pleasant.

Dammit, I donât have time for this.

Ethan pulled back and looked at me, eyes pleading. I sighed again. âFine,â I muttered, putting him down. âLetâs go check for monsters.â

He followed me silently up the stairs, watching anxiously as I grabbed the flashlight and got down on my knees, shining it under the bed. âNo monsters there,â I announced, standing up. I walked to the closet door and flung it open as Ethan peeked out from behind my legs. âNo monsters here, either. Think youâll be all right now?â

He nodded and gave me a faint smile. I started to close the door when I noticed a strange gray hat in the corner. It was domed on top, with a circular rim and a red band around the base: a bowler hat.

Weird. Why would that be there?

As I straightened and started to turn around, something moved out of the corner of my eye. I caught a glimpse of a figure hiding behind Ethanâs bedroom door, its pale eyes watching me through the crack. I jerked my head around, but of course there was nothing there.

Jeez, now Ethanâs got me seeing imaginary monsters. I need to stop watching those late-night horror flicks.

A thunderous boom directly overhead made me jump, and fat drops plinked against the windowpanes. Rushing past Ethan, I burst out of the house and sprinted down the driveway.

I WAS SOAKED WHEN I REACHED the bus stop. The late spring rain wasnât frigid, but it was cold enough to be uncomfortable. I crossed my arms and huddled under a mossy cypress, waiting for the bus to arrive.

Wonder where Robbie is? I mused, gazing down the road. Heâs usually here by now. Maybe he didnât feel like getting drenched and stayed home. I snorted and rolled my eyes. Skipping class again, huh? Slacker. Wish I could do that.

If only I had a car. I knew kids whose parents gave them cars for their sixteenth birthday. Me, Iâd be lucky if I got a cake. Most of my classmates already had licenses and could drive themselves to clubs and parties and anywhere they wanted. I was always left behind, the backward hick girl nobody wanted to invite.

Except Robbie, I amended with a small mental shrug. At least Robbie will remember. Wonder what kooky thing he has planned for my birthday tomorrow? I could almost guarantee it would be something strange or crazy. Last year, he snuck me out of the house for a midnight picnic in the woods. It was weird; I remembered the glen and the little pond with the fireflies drifting over it, but though I explored the woods behind my house countless times since then, I never found it again.

Something rustled in the bushes behind me. A possum or a deer, or even a fox, seeking shelter from the rain. The wildlife out here was stupidly bold and had little fear of humans. If it wasnât for Beau, Momâs vegetable garden would be a buffet for rabbits and deer, and the local raccoon family would help themselves to everything in our cupboards.

A branch snapped in the trees, closer this time. I shifted uncomfortably, determined not to turn around for some stupid squirrel or raccoon. Iâm not like âinflate-a-boobâ Angie, Ms. Perfect Cheerleader, whoâd flip out if she saw a caged gerbil or a speck of dirt on her Hollister jeans. Iâve pitched hay and killed rats and driven pigs through knee-deep mud. Wild animals donât scare me.

Still, I stared down the road, hoping to see the bus turn the corner. Maybe it was the rain and my own sick imagination, but the woods felt like the set for The Blair Witch Project.

There are no wolves or serial killers out here, I told myself. Stop being paranoid.

The forest was suddenly very quiet. I leaned against the tree and shivered, trying to will the bus into appearing. A chill crawled up my back. I wasnât alone. Cautiously, I craned my neck up, peering through the leaves. An enormous black bird perched on a branch, feathers spiked out against the rain, sitting as motionless as a statue. As I watched, it turned its head and met my gaze, with eyes as green as colored glass.

And then, something reached around the tree and grabbed me.

I screamed and leaped away, my heart hammering in my ears. Whirling around, I tensed to run, my mind filled with rapists and murderers and Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Laughter exploded behind me.

Robbie Goodfell, my closest neighborâmeaning he lived nearly two miles awayâslouched against the tree trunk, gasping with mirth. Lanky and tall, in tattered jeans and an old T-shirt, he paused to look at my pale face, before cracking up again. His spiky red hair lay plastered to his forehead and his clothes clung to his skin, emphasizing his lean, bony frame, as though his limbs didnât fit quite right. Being drenched and covered in twigs, leaves, and mud didnât seem to bother him. Few things did.

âDammit, Robbie!â I raged, stomping up and aiming a kick at him. He dodged and staggered into the road, his face red from laughter. âThat wasnât funny, you idiot. You nearly gave me a heart attack.â

âS-sorry, princess,â Robbie gasped, clutching his heart as he sucked in air. âIt was just too perfect.â He gave a final chortle and straightened, holding his ribs. âMan, that was impressive. You mustâve jumped three feet in the air. What, did you think I was, Leatherface or something?â

âOf course not, stupid.â I turned away with a huff to hide my burning face. âAnd I told you to stop calling me that! Iâm not ten anymore.â

âSure thing, princess.â

I rolled my eyes. âHas anyone told you you have the maturity level of a four-year-old?â

He laughed cheerfully. âLook whoâs talking. Iâm not the one who stayed up all night with the lights on after watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I tried to warn you.â He made a grotesque face and staggered toward me, arms outstretched. âOoooh, look out, itâs Leatherface.â

I scowled and kicked water at him. He kicked some back, laughing. By the time the bus showed up a few minutes later, we were both covered in mud, dripping wet, and the bus driver told us to sit in the back.

âWhat are you doing after school?â Robbie asked as we huddled in the far backseat. Around us, students talked, joked, laughed, and generally paid us no attention. âWanna grab a coffee later? Or we could sneak into the theater and see a movie.â

âNot today, Rob,â I replied, trying to wring water from my shirt. Now that it was over, I dearly regretted our little mud battle. I was going to look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon in front of Scott. âYouâll have to do your sneaking without me this time. Iâm tutoring someone after class.â

Robbieâs green eyes narrowed. âTutoring someone? Who?â

My stomach fluttered, and I tried not to grin. âScott Waldron.â

âWhat?â Robbieâs lip curled in a grimace of disgust. âThe jockstrap? Why, does he need you to teach him how to read?â

I scowled at him. âJust because heâs captain of the football team doesnât mean you can be a jerk. Or are you jealous?â

âOh, of course, thatâs it,â Robbie said with a sneer. âIâve always wanted the IQ of a rock. No, wait. That would be an insult to the rock.â He snorted. âI canât believe youâre going for the jockstrap. You can do so much better, princess.â

âDonât call me that.â I turned away to hide my burning face. âAnd itâs just a tutoring session. Heâs not going to ask me to the prom. Jeez.â

âRight.â Robbie sounded unconvinced. âHeâs not, but youâre hoping he will. Admit it. Youâre drooling over him just like every empty-headed cheerleader on campus.â

âSo what if I am?â I snapped, spinning around. âItâs none of your business, Rob. What do you care, anyway?â

He got very quiet, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. I turned my back on him and stared out the window. I didnât care what Robbie said. This afternoon, for one glorious hour, Scott Waldron would be mine alone, and no one would distract me from that.

SCHOOL DRAGGED. THE TEACHERS all spoke gibberish, and the clocks seemed to be moving backward. The afternoon crept by in a daze. Finally, finally, the last bell rang, freeing me from the endless torture of X equals Y problems.

Today is the day, I told myself as I maneuvered the crowded hallways, keeping to the edge of the teeming mass. Wet sneakers squeaked over tile, and a miasma of sweat, smoke, and body odor hung thick in the air. Nervousness fluttered inside me. You can do this. Donât think about it. Just go in and get it over with.

Dodging students, I wove my way down the hall and peeked into the computer room.

There he was, sitting at one of the desks with both feet up on another chair. Scott Waldron, captain of the football team. Gorgeous Scott. King-of-the-school Scott. He wore a red-and-white letterman jacket that showed off his broad chest, and his thick dark blond hair brushed the top of his collar.

My heart pounded. A whole hour in the same room with Scott Waldron, with no one to get in the way. Normally, I couldnât even get close to Scott; he was either surrounded by Angie and her cheerleader groupies, or his football buddies. There were other students in the computer lab with us, but they were nerds and academic types, beneath Scott Waldronâs notice. The jocks and cheerleaders wouldnât be caught dead in here if they could help it. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

He didnât glance at me when I walked up beside him. He lounged in the chair with his feet up and his head back, tossing an invisible ball across the room. I cleared my throat. Nothing.

I cleared it a little louder. Still nothing.

Gathering my courage, I stepped in front of him and waved. His coffee-brown eyes finally jerked up to mine. For a moment, he looked startled. Then an eyebrow rose in a lazy arc, as if he couldnât figure out why I wanted to talk to him.

Uh-oh. Say something, Meg. Something intelligent.

âUm â¦â I stammered. âHi. Iâm Meghan. I sit behind you. In computer class.â He was still giving me that blank stare, and I felt my cheeks getting hot. âUh â¦ I really donât watch a lot of sports, but I think youâre an awesome quarterback, not that Iâve seen manyâwell, just you, actually. But you really seem to know what youâre doing. I go to all your games, you know. Iâm usually in the very back, so you probably donât see me.â Oh, God. Shut up, Meg. Shut up now. I clamped my mouth closed to stop the incessant babbling, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. What was I thinking, agreeing to this? Better to be invisible than to look like a complete and total moron, especially in front of Scott.

He blinked lazily, reached up, and pulled the earphones from his ears. âSorry, babe,â he drawled in that wonderful, deep voice of his. âI couldnât hear you.â He gave me a once over and smirked. âAre you supposed to be the tutor?â

âUm, yes.â I straightened and smoothed out my remaining shreds of dignity. âIâm Meghan. Mr. Sanders asked me to help you out with your programming project.â

He continued to smirk at me. âArenât you that hick girl who lives out in the swamp? Do you even know what a computer is?â

My face flamed, and my stomach contracted into a tight little ball. Okay, so I didnât have a great computer at home. That was why I spent most of my after-school time here, in the lab, doing homework or just surfing online. In fact, I was hoping to make it into ITT Tech in a couple of years. Programming and Web design came easily to me. I knew how to work a computer, dammit.

But, in the face of Scottâs criticism, I could only stammer: âY-yes, I do. I mean, I know a lot.â He gave me a dubious look, and I felt the sting of wounded pride. I had to prove to him that I wasnât the backward hillbilly he thought I was. âHere, Iâll show you,â I offered, and reached toward the keyboard on the table.

Then something weird happened.

I hadnât even touched the keys when the computer screen blipped on. When I paused, my fingers hovering over the board, words began to scroll across the blue screen.

Meghan Chase. We see you. Weâre coming for you.

I froze. The words continued, those three sentences, over and over. Meghan Chase. We see you. Weâre coming for you. Meghan Chase we see you weâre coming for you. Meghan Chase we see-you weâre coming for you â¦ over and over until it completely filled the screen.

Scott leaned back in his seat, glaring at me, then at the computer. âWhat is this?â he asked, scowling. âWhat the hell are you doing, freak?â Pushing him aside, I shook the mouse, punched Escape, and pressed Ctrl/Alt/Del to stop the endless string of words. Nothing worked.

Suddenly, without warning, the words stopped, and the screen went blank for a moment. Then, in giant letters, another message flashed into view.

SCOTT WALDRON PEEKS AT GUYS IN THE SHOWER ROOM, ROFL.

I gasped. The message began to scroll across all the computer screens, wending its way around the room, with me powerless to stop it. The other students at the desks paused, shocked for a moment, then began to point and laugh.

I could feel Scottâs gaze like a knife in my back. Fearfully, I turned to find him glaring at me, chest heaving. His face was crimson, probably from rage or embarrassment, and he jabbed a finger in my direction.

âYou think thatâs funny, swamp girl? Do you? Just wait. Iâll show you funny. You just dug your own grave, bitch.â

He stormed out of the room with the echo of laughter trailing behind him. A few of the students gave me grins, applause, and thumbs-up; one of them even winked at me.

My knees were shaking. I dropped into a chair and stared blankly at the computer screen, which suddenly flicked off, taking the offensive message with it, but the damage was already done. My stomach roiled, and there was a stinging sensation behind my eyes.

I buried my face in my hands. Iâm dead. Iâm so dead. Thatâs it, game over, Meghan. I wonder if Mom will let me move to a boarding school in Canada?

A faint snicker cut through my bleak thoughts, and I raised my head.

Crouched atop the monitor, silhouetted black against the open window, was a tiny, misshapen thing. Spindly and emaciated, it had long, thin arms and huge bat like ears. Slitted green eyes regarded me across the table, gleaming with intelligence. It grinned, showing off a mouthful of pointed teeth that glowed with neon-blue light, before it vanished, like an image on the computer screen.

I sat there a moment, staring at the spot where the creature had been, my mind spinning in a dozen directions at once.

Okay. Great. Not only does Scott hate me, Iâm starting to hallucinate, as well. Meghan Chase, victim of a nervous breakdown the day before she turned sixteen. Just send me off to the loony bin, âcause I sure wonât survive another day at school.

Dragging myself upright, I shuffled, zombielike, into the hall.

Robbie waited for me by the lockers, a soda bottle in each hand. âHey, princess,â he greeted as I shambled past. âYouâre out early. Howâd the tutoring session go?â

âDonât call me that,â I muttered, banging my forehead into my locker. âAnd the tutoring session went fabulous. Please kill me now.â

âThat good, huh?â He tossed me a diet soda, which I barely caught, and twisted open his root beer in a hiss of foam. I could hear the grin in his voice. âWell, I suppose I could say âI told you soâââ

I glared daggers at him, daring him to continue.

The smile vanished from his face. ââbut â¦ I wonât.â He pursed his lips, trying not to grin. ââCause â¦ that would just be wrong.â

âWhat are you doing here, anyway?â I demanded. âThe buses have all left by now. Were you lurking by the computer lab, like some creepy stalker guy?â

Rob coughed loudly and took a long sip of his root beer.

âHey, I was wondering,â he continued brightly, âwhat are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?â

Hiding in my room, with the covers over my head, I thought, but shrugged and yanked open my rusty locker. âI dunno. Whatever. I donât have anything planned.â I grabbed my books, stuffed them in my bag, and slammed the locker door. âWhy?â

Robbie gave me that smile that always makes me nervous, a grin that stretched his entire face so that his eyes narrowed to green slits. âIâve got a bottle of champagne I managed to swipe from the wine cabinet,â he said in a low voice, waggling his eyebrows. âHow âbout I come by your place tomorrow? We can celebrate your birthday in style.â

Iâd never had champagne. I did try a sip of Lukeâs beer once, and thought I was going to throw up. Mom sometimes brought home wine in a box, and that wasnât terrible, but I wasnât much of an alcohol drinker.

What the hell? Youâre only sixteen once, right? âSure,â I told Robbie, and gave a resigned shrug. âSounds good. Might as well go out with a bang.â

He cocked his head at me. âYou okay, princess?â

What could I tell him? That the captain of the football team, whom Iâd been crushing on for two years, was out to get me, that I was seeing monsters at every turn, and that the school computers were either hacked or possessed? Yeah, right. Iâd get no sympathy from the schoolâs greatest prankster. Knowing Robbie, heâd think it was a brilliant joke and congratulate me. If I didnât know him better, I might even think he set it up.

I just gave him a tired smile and nodded. âIâm fine. Iâll see you tomorrow, Robbie.â

âSee you then, princess.â

Mom was late picking me up, again. The tutoring session was only supposed to be an hour, but I sat on the curb, in the drizzling rain, for another good half hour, contemplating my miserable life and watching cars pull in and out of the parking lot. Finally, her blue station wagon turned the corner and pulled to a stop in front of me. The front seat was filled with grocery bags and newspapers, so I slid into the back.

âMeg, youâre sopping wet,â cried my mother, watching me from the rearview mirror. âDonât sit on the upholsteryâget a towel or something. Didnât you bring an umbrella?â

Nice to see you, too, Mom, I thought, scowling as I grabbed a newspaper off the floor to put on the seat. No âhow was your day?â or âsorry Iâm late.â I shouldâve abandoned the stupid tutoring session with Scott and taken the bus home.

We drove in silence. People used to tell me I looked like her, that is, before Ethan came along and swallowed up the spotlight. To this day, I donât know where they saw the resemblance. Mom is one of those ladies who looks natural in a three-piece suit and heels; me, I like baggy cargo pants and sneakers. Momâs hair hangs in thick golden ringlets; mine is limp and fine, almost silver if it catches the light just right.

She looks regal and graceful and slender; I just look skinny.

Mom couldâve married anyone in the worldâa movie star, a rich business tycoonâbut she chose Luke the pig farmer and a shabby little farm out in the sticks. Which reminded me â¦

âHey, Mom. Donât forget, you have to take me to get a permit this weekend.â

âOh, Meg.â Mom sighed. âI donât know. Iâve got a lot of work this week, and your father wants me to help him fix the barn. Maybe next week.â

âMom, you promised!â

âMeghan, please. Iâve had a long day.â Mom sighed again and looked back at me in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and ringed with smeared mascara. I shifted uncomfortably. Had Mom been crying?

âWhatâs up?â I asked cautiously.

She hesitated. âThere was an â¦ accident at home,â she began, and her voice made my insides squirm. âYour father had to take Ethan to the hospital this afternoon.â She paused again, blinking rapidly, and took a short breath. âBeau attacked him.â

âWhat?â My outburst made her start. Our German shepherd? Attacking Ethan? âIs Ethan all right?â I demanded, feeling my stomach twist in fear.

âYes.â Mom gave me a tired smile. âVery shaken up, but nothing serious, thank God.â

I breathed a sigh of relief. âWhat happened?â I asked, still unable to believe our dog actually attacked a family member. Beau adored Ethan; he got upset if anyone even scolded my half brother. Iâd seen Ethan yanking on Beauâs fur, ears, and tail, and the dog barely responded with a lick. Iâd seen Beau take Ethanâs sleeve and gently tug him back from the driveway. Our German shepherd might be a terror to squirrels and deer, but heâd never even shown teeth to anyone in the house.

âWhy did Beau go crazy like that?â

Mom shook her head. âI donât know. Luke saw Beau run up the stairs, then heard Ethan screaming. When he got to his room, he found the dog dragging Ethan across the floor. His face was badly scratched, and there were bite marks on his arm.â

My blood ran cold. I saw Ethan being mauled, imagined his absolute terror when our previously trustworthy shepherd turned on him. It was so hard to believe, like something out of a horror movie. I knew Mom was just as stunned as I was; sheâd trusted Beau completely.

Still, Mom was holding back, I could tell by the way she pressed her lips together. There was something she wasnât telling me, and I was afraid I knew what it was.

âWhat will happen to Beau?â

Her eyes filled with tears, and my heart sank. âWe canât have a dangerous dog running around, Meg,â she said, and I heard the plea for understanding. âIf Ethan asks, tell him that we found Beau another home.â She took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly, not looking at me. âItâs for the safety of the family, Meghan. Donât blame your father. But, after Luke brought Ethan home, he took Beau to the pound.â

CHAPTER TWO

Ring Tone of Doom

Dinner was tense that night. I was furious at both my parents: Luke for doing the deed, and Mom for allowing him to do it. I refused to speak to either of them. Mom and Luke talked between themselves about useless, trivial stuff, and Ethan sat clutching Floppy in silence. It was weird not having Beau pacing round the table like he always did, looking for crumbs.

I excused myself early and retreated to my room, slamming the door behind me.

I flopped back on my bed, remembering all the times Beau had curled up here with me, a solid, warm presence. He never asked anyone for anything, content just to be near, making sure his charges were safe. Now he was gone, and the house seemed emptier for it.

I wished I could talk to someone. I wanted to call Robbie and rant about the total unfairness of it all, but his parentsâwho were even more backward than mine, apparentlyâdidnât have a phone, or even a computer. Talk about living in the Dark Ages. Rob and I made our plans at school, or sometimes he would just show up outside my window, having walked the two miles to my house. It was a total pain in the ass, something I fully intended to fix once I got my own car. Mom and Luke couldnât keep me in this isolated bubble forever. Maybe my next big purchase would be cell phones for both of us, and screw what Luke thought about that. This whole âtechnology is evilâ thing was getting really old.

Iâd talk to Robbie tomorrow. I couldnât do it tonight. Besides, the only phone in my house was the landline in the kitchen, and I didnât want to vent about grown-up stupidity with them in the same room. That would be pushing it.

There was a timid knock on the door, and Ethanâs head peeked inside.

âHey, squirt.â I sat up on the bed, swiping at a few stray tears. A dinosaur Band-Aid covered his forehead, and his right arm was wrapped in gauze. âWhatâs up?â

âMommy and Daddy sent Beau away.â His lower lip trembled, and he hiccuped, wiping his eyes on Floppyâs fur. I sighed and patted the bed.

âThey had to,â I explained as he clambered up and snuggled into my lap, rabbit and all. âThey didnât want Beau to bite you again. They were afraid youâd get hurt.â

âBeau didnât bite me.â Ethan gazed back at me with wide, teary eyes. I saw fear in them, and an understanding that went way beyond his years. âBeau didnât hurt me,â he insisted. âBeau was trying to save me from the man in the closet.â

Monsters again? I sighed, wanting to dismiss it, but a part of me hesitated. What if Ethan was right? Iâd been seeing weird things, too, lately. What if â¦ what if Beau really was protecting Ethan from something horrible and terrifying â¦ ?

No! I shook my head. This was ridiculous! Iâd be turning sixteen in a few hours; that was way too old to believe in monsters. And it was high time Ethan grew up, as well. He was a smart kid, and I was getting tired of him blaming imaginary bogeymen whenever something went wrong.

âEthan.â I sighed again, trying not to appear cranky. If I was too harsh, heâd probably start bawling, and I didnât want to upset him after all heâd gone through today. Still, this had gone far enough. âThere are no monsters in your closet, Ethan. Thereâs no such thing as monsters, okay?â

âYes, there are!â He scowled and kicked his feet into the covers. âIâve seen them. They talk to me. They say the king wants to see me.â He held out his arm, showing me the bandage. âThe man in the closet grabbed me here. He was pulling me under the bed when Beau came in and scared him off.â

Clearly, I wasnât going to change his mind. And I really didnât want a temper tantrum in my room right now. âOkay, fine,â I relented, wrapping my arms around him. âLetâs say something other than Beau grabbed you today. Why donât you tell Mom and Luke?â

âTheyâre grown-ups,â Ethan said, as if it was perfectly clear.

âThey wonât believe me. They canât see the monsters.â He sighed and looked at me with the gravest expression Iâd ever seen on a kid. âBut Floppy says you can see them. If you try hard enough. You can see through the Mist and the glamour, Floppy says so.â

âThe what and the what?â

âEthan?â Momâs voice floated outside the door, and her silhouette appeared in the frame. âAre you in here?â Seeing us together, she blinked and offered a tentative smile. I glared back stonily.

Mom ignored me. âEthan, honey, time to get ready for bed. Itâs been a long day.â She held out her hand, and Ethan hopped down to pad across the room, dragging his rabbit behind him.

âCan I sleep with you and Daddy?â I heard him ask, his voice small and scared.

âOh, I guess so. Just for tonight, okay?â

ââKay.â Their voices faded away down the hall, and I kicked my door shut.

That night, I had a strange dream about waking up and seeing Floppy, Ethanâs stuffed rabbit, at the foot of my bed. In the dream, the rabbit was speaking to me, words that were grave and terrifying, filled with danger. It wanted to warn me, or it wanted me to help. I might have promised it something. The next morning, however, I couldnât remember much of the dream at all.

I WOKE TO THE SOUND OF RAIN drumming on the roof. My birthday seemed destined to be cold, ugly, and wet. For a moment, a heavy weight pressed at the back of my mind, though I didnât know why I felt so depressed. Then everything from the previous day came back to me, and I groaned.

Happy birthday to me, I thought, burrowing under the covers. Iâll be spending the rest of the week in bed, thanks.

âMeghan?â Momâs voice sounded outside my door, followed by a timid knock. âItâs getting late. Are you up yet?â

I ignored her and curled up farther into the covers. Resentment simmered as I thought of poor Beau, carted off to the pound. Mom knew I was mad at her, but she could stew in her guilt for a while. I wasnât ready to forgive and make up just yet.

âMeghan, get up. Youâre going to miss the bus,â said Mom, poking her head in the room. Her tone was matter-of-fact, and I snorted. So much for making up.

âIâm not going to school,â I muttered from beneath the covers. âI donât feel good. I think Iâve got the flu.â

âSick? On your birthday? Thatâs unfortunate.â Mom came into the room, and I peeked at her through a crack in the blankets. She remembered?

âVery sad,â Mom continued, smiling at me and crossing her arms. âI was going to take you to get a learnerâs permit after school today, but if youâre sick â¦â

I popped up. âReally? Um â¦ well, I guess I donât feel all that bad. Iâll just take some aspirin or something.â

âI thought so.â Mom shook her head as I bounced to my feet. âIâm helping your father fix the barn this afternoon, so I canât pick you up. But, as soon as you get home, weâll go to the license bureau together. That sound like a good birthday present?â

I barely heard her. I was too busy racing around the room, grabbing clothes and getting my stuff together. The sooner I got through the day, the better.

I was stuffing homework into my backpack when the door creaked open again. Ethan peeked in the doorway, his hands behind his back, a shy, expectant smile on his face.

I blinked at him and pushed back my hair. âWhat do you need, squirt?â

With a grin, he stepped forward and held out a folded piece of paper. Bright crayon drawings decorated the front; a smiley-faced sun hovered over a little house with smoke curling from the chimney.

âHappy birthday, Meggie,â he said, quite pleased with himself. âSee how I remembered?â

Smiling, I took the homemade card and opened it. Inside, a simple crayon drawing of our family smiled back: stick figures of Mom and Luke, me and Ethan holding hands, and a four-legged critter that had to be Beau. I felt a lump in my throat, and my eyes watered for just a moment.

âYou like it?â Ethan asked, watching me anxiously.

âI love it,â I said, ruffling his hair. âThank you. Here, why donât you put it on the fridge, so everyone can see what a great artist you are.â

He grinned and scampered off, clutching the card, and I felt my heart get a little bit lighter. Maybe today wouldnât be so terrible, after all.

âSO, YOUR MOM IS TAKING YOU to get a permit today?â Robbie asked as the bus pulled into the school parking lot. âThatâs cool. You can finally drive us downtown and to the movies. We wonât have to depend on the bus, or spend another evening watching VHS tapes on your twelve-inch screen.â

âItâs only a permit, Rob.â I gathered my backpack as the bus lurched to a halt. âI wonât have my license yet. Knowing Mom, itâll be another sixteen years before I can drive the car on my own. Ethan will probably get a license before I do.â

The thought of my half brother sent an unexpected chill through me. I remembered his words from the night before: You can see through the Mist and the glamour, Floppy says so.

Stuffed rabbit aside, I had no idea what he was talking about.

As I walked down the bus steps, a familiar figure broke away from a large group and came striding toward me. Scott. My stomach twisted, and I gazed around for a suitable escape route, but before I could flee into the crowd, he was already in front of me.

âHey.â His voice, drawling and deep, made me shiver. Terrified as I was, he was still gorgeous, with his damp blond hair falling in unruly waves and curls on his forehead. For some reason, he seemed nervous today, running his hands through his bangs and gazing around. âUm â¦â He hesitated, narrowing his eyes. âWhat was your name again?â

âMeghan,â I whispered.

âOh, yeah.â Stepping closer, he glanced back at his friends and lowered his voice. âListen, I feel bad about the way I treated you yesterday. It was uncalled-for. Iâm sorry.â

For a moment, I didnât understand what he was saying. Iâd been expecting threats, taunts, or accusations. Then a great balloon of relief swelled inside me as his words finally registered. âO-oh,â I stammered, feeling my face heat, âthatâs okay. Forget about it.â

âI canât,â he muttered. âYouâve been on my mind since yesterday. I was a real jerk, and Iâd like to make it up to you.

Do â¦â He stopped, chewing his lip, then got it all out in a rush. âDo you want to eat lunch with me this afternoon?â

My heart pounded. Butterflies swarmed madly in my stomach, and my feet felt like they were floating an inch off the ground. I barely had the voice to squeak a breathless âSure.â Scott grinned, showing blindingly white teeth, and gave me a wink.

âHey, guys! Over here!â One of Scottâs football buddies stood a few feet away, a camera-phone in hand, pointed at us. âSmile for the birdie.â

Before I knew what was happening, Scott put a hand around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side. I blinked up at him, stunned, as my heart began racing around my chest. He flashed his dazzling grin at the camera, but I could only stare, stupefied, like a moron.

âThanks, Meg,â Scott said, breaking away from me. âSee you at lunch.â He smiled and trotted off toward the school with one final wink. The cameraman chuckled and sprinted after him, leaving me dazed and confused at the edge of the parking lot.

For a moment, I stood there, staring like an idiot as my classmates surged around me. Then a grin spread across my face and I whooped, leaping into the air. Scott Waldron wanted to see me! He wanted to have lunch with me, just me, in the cafeteria. Maybe my luck was finally turning around. My best birthday ever might just be starting.

As a silvery curtain of rain crept over the parking lot, I felt eyes on me. Turning, I saw Robbie a few paces away, watching me through the crowd.

Through the rain, his eyes glittered, a too-bright green. As water pounded the concrete and students rushed toward the school, I saw a hint of something on his face: a long muzzle, slitted eyes, a tongue lolling out between pointed fangs. My stomach twisted, but I blinked and Robbie was himself againânormal, grinning, unconcerned that he was getting drenched.

And so was I.

With a little yelp, I sprinted beneath the overhang and ducked inside the school. Robbie followed, laughing, pulling at my limp strands of hair until I smacked him and he stopped.

All through the first class, I kept glancing at Robbie, looking for that eerie, predatory hint on his face, wondering if I was crazy. All it got me was a sore neck and a brusque comment from my English teacher to pay attention and stop staring at boys.

WHEN THE LUNCH BELL RANG, I leaped up, my heart fluttering a hundred miles a minute. Scott was waiting for me in the cafeteria. I grabbed my books, stuffed them into my backpack, whirled aroundâ

And came face-to-face with Robbie, standing behind me.

I shrieked. âRob, Iâm going to smack you if you donât stop doing that! Now, move. I have to get somewhere.â

âDonât go.â His voice was quiet, serious. Surprised, I looked up at him. The perpetual goofy grin was gone, and his jaw was set. The look in his eyes was almost frightening. âThis is bad, I can feel it. Jockstrap is up to somethingâhe and his buddies were hanging around the yearbook department for a long time after he talked to you. I donât like it. Promise me you wonât go.â

I recoiled. âWere you eavesdropping on us?â I demanded, scowling. âWhatâs wrong with you? Ever hear of a âprivate conversationâ?â

âWaldron doesnât care about you.â Robbie crossed his arms, daring me to contradict him. âHeâll break your heart, princess. Trust me, Iâve seen enough of his kind to know.â

Anger flared, anger that he dared stick his nose into my affairs, anger that he could be right. âAgain, itâs none of your business, Rob!â I snapped, making his eyebrows arch. âAnd I can take care of myself, okay? Quit butting in where youâre not wanted.â

Hurt glimmered briefly, but then it was gone. âFine, princess.â He smirked, holding up his hands. âDonât get your royal pink panties in a twist. Forget I said anything.â

âI will.â Tossing my head, I flounced out of the room without looking back.

Guilt gnawed at me as I wove through the halls toward the cafeteria. I regretted snapping at Robbie, but sometimes his Big Brother act went too far. Still, Robbie had always been that wayâjealous, overprotective, forever looking out for me, like it was his job. I couldnât remember when I first met him; it felt like heâd always been there.

The cafeteria was noisy and dim. I hovered just inside the door, looking for Scott, only to see him at a table in the middle of the floor, surrounded by cheerleaders and football jocks. I hesitated. I couldnât just march up to that table and sit down; Angie Whitmond and her cheerleading squad would rip me to shreds.

Scott glanced up and saw me, and a lazy smile spread over his face. Taking that as an invitation, I started toward him, weaving my way past the tables. He flipped out his iPhone, pressed a button, and looked at me with half-lidded eyes, still grinning.

A phone rang close by.

I jumped a bit, but continued walking. Behind me, there were gasps, and then hysterical giggles. And then, the whispered conversation that always makes you think theyâre talking about you. I felt eyes on the back of my head. Trying to ignore it, I continued down the aisle.

Another phone rang.

And another.

And now, whispers and laughter were spreading like wildfire. For some reason, I felt horribly exposed, as if a spotlight shone right on me and I was on display. The laughter couldnât be directed at me, could it? I saw several people point in my direction, whispering among themselves, and tried my best to ignore them. Scottâs table was only a few feet away.

âHey, hot cheeks!â A hand smacked my ass and I shrieked. Spinning around, I glared at Dan Ottoman, a blond, pimply clarinet player from band. He leered back at me and winked.

âNever took you for a player, girl,â he said, trying to ooze charm but reminding me of a dirty Kermit the Frog. âCome down to band sometime. Iâve got a flute you can play.â

âWhat are you talking about?â I snarled, but he snickered and held up his phone.

At first, the screen was blank. But then a message flashed across it in bright yellow. âHow is Meghan Chase like a cold beer?â it read. I gasped, and the words disappeared as a picture flashed into view.

Me. Me with Scott in the parking lot, his arm around my shoulders, a wide leer on his face. Only nowâmy mouth dropped openâI was butt naked, staring at him in wonder, my eyes blank and stupid. Heâd obviously used Photoshop; my âbodyâ was obscenely skinny and featureless, like a dollâs, my chest as flat as a twelve-year-oldâs. I froze, and my heart stopped beating as the second part of the message scrolled over the screen.

âSheâs smooth and goes down easy!â

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and my cheeks flamed. Horrified, I looked up at Scott, to see his whole table roaring with laughter and pointing at me. Ring tones echoed through the cafeteria, and laughter pounded me like physical waves. I started trembling, and my eyes burned.

Covering my face, I turned and fled the cafeteria before I started wailing like a two-year-old. Shrieking laughter echoed around me, and tears stung my eyes like poison. I managed to cross the room without tripping over benches or my feet, bashed open the doors, and escaped into the hallway.

I spent nearly an hour in the corner stall of the girlsâ bathroom, sobbing my eyes out and planning my move to Canada, or possibly Fijiâsomewhere far, far away. I didnât dare show my face to anyone in this state ever again. Finally, as the tears slowed and my gasping breaths returned to normal, I reflected on how miserable my life had become.

I guess I should feel honored, I thought bitterly, holding my breath as a group of girls flocked into the bathroom. Scott took the time to personally ruin my life. I bet heâs never done that to anyone else. Lucky me, Iâm the worldâs biggest loser. Tears threatened again, but I was tired of bawling and held them back.

At first, I planned to hole up in the bathroom until school ended. But, if anyone missed me from class, this would be the first place theyâd look. So, I finally gathered the courage to tiptoe down to the nurseâs office and fake a horrid stomachache so I could hide out there.

The nurse stood about four feet in thick-heeled loafers, but the look she gave me when I peered through the door suggested she wasnât going to take any teenage foolishness. Her skin looked like that of a shrunken walnut, her white hair was pulled into a severe bun, and she wore tiny gold glasses on the end of her nose.

âWell, now, Ms. Chase,â she said in a gravelly, high-pitched voice, setting aside her clipboard. âWhat are you doing here?â

I blinked, wondering how she knew me. Iâd only been to the nurseâs office once before, when a stray soccer ball hit me in the nose. Back then, the nurse was bony and tall, with an overbite that made her look like a horse. This plump, shriveled little woman was new, and slightly unnerving, with the way she stared at me.

âI have a stomachache,â I complained, holding my navel like it was about to burst. âI just need to lie down for a few minutes.â

âOf course, Ms. Chase. There are some cots in the back. Iâll bring you something to make you feel better.â

I nodded and moved into a room divided by several huge sheets. Except for myself and the nurse, the room was empty. Perfect. I chose a corner cot and lay back on the paper-covered mattress.

Moments later, the nurse appeared, handing me a Dixie cup full of something that bubbled and steamed. âTake this, youâll feel better,â she said, pressing the cup into my hand.

I stared at it. The fizzling white liquid smelled like chocolate and herbs, except stronger, somehow, a mix so potent it made my eyes water. âWhat is it?â I asked.

The nurse just smiled and left the room.

I took a cautious sip and felt warmth spread from my throat down to my stomach. The taste was incredible, like the richest chocolate in the world, with just a hint of bitter aftertaste. I quaffed the rest in two gulps, holding the cup upside down to get the last drops.

Almost immediately, I felt sleepy. Lying back on the crinkly mattress, I closed my eyes for just a moment, and everything faded away.

I AWOKE TO LOW VOICES, talking in furtive tones, just beyond the curtains. I tried to move, but it felt like my body was wrapped in cotton, my head filled with gauze. I struggled to keep my eyes open. On the other side of the sheets, I saw two silhouettes.

âDonât do anything reckless,â warned a low, gravelly voice. The nurse, I thought, wondering, in my delirium, if she would give me more of that chocolaty stuff. âRemember, your duty is to watch the girl. You must not do anything that will draw attention.â

âMe?â asked a tantalizingly familiar voice. âDraw attention to myself? Would I do such a thing?â

The nurse snorted. âIf the entire cheerleading squad turns into mice, Robin, I will be very upset with you. Mortal adolescents are blind and cruel. You know that. You mustnât take revenge, no matter how you feel about the girl. Especially now. There are more worrisome things on the move.â

Iâm dreaming, I decided. That must be it. What was in that drink, anyway? In the dim light, the silhouettes playing across the curtain looked confusing and strange. The nurse, it seemed, was even smaller, barely three feet in height. The other shadow was even more peculiar: normal-size, but with strange protrusions on the side of his head that looked like horns, or ears.

The taller shadow sighed and moved to sit in a chair, crossing his long legs. âIâve heard the same,â he muttered. âDark rumors are stirring. The Courts are restless. Seems like something is out there that has both of them scared.â

âWhich is why you must continue to be both her shield and her guardian.â The nurse turned, putting both hands on her hips, her voice chiding. âIâm surprised you havenât given her the mist wine yet. She is sixteen today. The veil is beginning to lift.â

âI know, I know. Iâm getting to it.â The shadow sighed, putting his head in his hands. âIâll take care of that later this afternoon. How is she?â

âResting,â said the nurse. âPoor thing, she was traumatized. I gave her a mild sleep potion that will knock her out until she goes home.â

A chuckle. âThe last kid who drank one of your âmildâ sleep potions didnât wake up for two weeks. Youâre one to talk about being inconspicuous.â

The nurseâs reply was garbled and broken, but I was almost sure she said, âSheâs her fatherâs daughter. Sheâll be fine.â Or maybe it was just me. The world went fuzzy, like an out-of-focus camera, and I knew nothing for a time.

âMEGHAN!â

Someone was shaking me awake. I cursed and flailed, momentarily confused, and finally lifted my head. My eyes felt like they had ten pounds of sand in them, and sleep gook crusted the corners, making it impossible to focus. Groaning, I wiped my lids and stared blearily into Robbieâs face. For a moment, his brow was furrowed with concern. Then I blinked and he was his normal, grinning self.

âWakey wakey, sleeping beauty,â he teased as I struggled to a sitting position. âLucky you, school is out. Itâs time to go home.â

âHuh?â I muttered intelligently, wiping the last traces of sleep snot from my eyes. Robbie snorted and pulled me to my feet.

âHere,â he said, handing me my backpack, heavy with books. âYouâre lucky Iâm such a great friend. I got notes for all the classes you missed after lunch. Oh, and youâre forgiven, by the way. I wonât even say âI told you so.ââ

He was speaking too fast. My brain was still asleep, my mind foggy and disconnected. âWhat are you talking about?â I mumbled, shrugging into my pack.

And then I remembered.

âI need to call my mom,â I said, dropping back on the cot. Robbie frowned and looked confused. âShe has to come pick me up,â I elaborated. âNo way am I getting on the bus, ever again.â Despair settled on me, and I hid my face in my hands.

âLook, Meghan,â Robbie said, âI heard what happened.

Itâs not a big deal.â

âAre you on crack?â I asked, glaring at him through my fingers. âThe whole school is talking about me. This will probably go in the school paper. Iâll be crucified if I show my face in public. And you say itâs not a big deal?â

I drew my knees to my chest and buried my head in them. Everything was so horribly unfair. âItâs my birthday,â I moaned into my jeans. âThis isnât supposed to happen to people on their birthdays.â

Robbie sighed. Dropping his bag, he sat down and put his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. I sniffled and shed a few tears into his jacket, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt. It thudded rapidly against his chest, like heâd been sprinting several miles.

âCome on.â Robbie stood, pulling me up with him. âYou can do this. And I promise, no one will care what happened today. By tomorrow, everyone will have forgotten about it.â

He smiled, squeezing my arm. âBesides, donât you have a driverâs permit to get?â

That one bright spark in the black misery of my life gave me hope. I nodded, steeling myself for what was to come. We left the nurseâs office together, Robbieâs hand clasped firmly around mine.

âJust stick close,â he muttered as we neared the crowded part of the hallway. Angie and three of her groupies stood in front of the lockers, chattering away and snapping their gum. My stomach tensed and my heart began to pound. Robbie squeezed my hand. âItâs okay. Donât let go of me, and donât say anything to anyone. They wonât even notice weâre here.â

As we neared the cluster of girls, I prepared for them to turn on me with their laughter and their ugly remarks. But we swept by them without so much as a glance, though Angie was in the midst of describing my shameful retreat from the cafeteria.

âAnd then she, like, started bawling,â Angie said, her nasal voice cutting through the hall. âAnd I was like, omygod sheâs such a loser. But what can you expect from an inbred hillbilly?â Her voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned forward. âI heard her mom has an unnatural obsession with pigs, if you know what I mean.â

The girls broke into a chorus of shocked giggles, and I almost snapped. Robbie, however, tightened his grip and pulled me away. I heard him mutter something under his breath, and felt a shudder go through the air, like thunder with no sound.

Behind us, Angie started to scream.

I tried to turn back, but Robbie yanked me onward, weaving through the crowd as the rest of the students jerked their heads toward the shrieking. But, for a split second, I saw Angie covering her nose with her hands, and her screams were sounding more and more like the squeals of a pig.

CHAPTER THREE

The Changeling

The bus ride home was silent, at least between Robbie and me. Partly because I didnât want to draw attention to myself, but mainly because I had a lot on my mind. We sat in the back corner, with me crushed against the window, staring at the trees flashing by. I had my iPod out and my headphones blasting my eardrums, but it was mostly an excuse not to talk to anyone.

Angieâs piglike screams still echoed through my head. It was probably the most horrible sound Iâd ever heard, and though she was a total bitch, I couldnât help but feel a little guilty.

There was no doubt in my mind that Robbie had done something to her, though I couldnât prove it. I was actually afraid to bring it up. Robbie seemed like a different person now, quiet, brooding, watching the kids on the bus with predatorlike intensity. He was acting weirdâweird and creepyâand I wondered what was wrong with him.

Then there was that strange dream, which I was beginning to think hadnât really been a dream at all. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the familiar voice talking to the nurse had been Robbieâs.

Something was happening, something strange and creepy and terrifying, and the scariest part of all was that it wore a familiar, ordinary face. I snuck a glance at Robbie. How well did I know him, really know him? Heâd been my friend for longer than I could remember, and yet Iâd never been to his house, or met his parents. The few times I suggested meeting at his place, heâd always had some excuse not to; his folks were out of town, or they were remodeling the kitchen, a kitchen Iâd never seen. That was strange, but what was weirder was the fact that Iâd never wondered about it, never questioned it, until now. Robbie was simply there, like heâd been conjured out of nothing, with no background, no home, and no past. What was his favorite music? Did he have goals in life? Had he ever fallen in love?

Not at all, my mind whispered, disturbingly. You donât know him at all.

I shivered and looked out the window again.

The bus lurched to a halt at a four-way stop, and I saw weâd left the outskirts of town and were now heading into the boondocks. My neighborhood. Rain still spattered the windows, making the swampy marshlands blurry and indistinct, the trees fuzzy dark shapes through the glass.

I blinked and straightened up in my seat. Deep in the swamp, a horse and rider stood beneath the limbs of an enormous oak, as still as the trees themselves. The horse was a huge black animal with a mane and tail that rippled behind it, even drenched as it was. Its rider was tall and lean, garbed in silver and black. A dark cape fluttered from its shoulders. Through the rain, I caught the barest glimpse of a face: young, pale, strikingly handsome â¦ staring right at me. My stomach lurched and I caught my breath.

âRob,â I murmured, pulling my headphones out, âlook at thaââ

Robbieâs face was inches from mine, staring out the window, his eyes narrowed to green slits, hard and dangerous. My stomach twisted and I leaned away from him, but he didnât notice me. His lips moved, and he whispered one word, so soft I barely caught it, even as close as we were.

âAsh.â

âAsh?â I repeated. âWhoâs Ash?â

The bus coughed and lurched forward again. Robbie leaned back, his face so still it couldâve been carved from stone. Swallowing, I looked out the window, but the space beneath the oak was empty. Horse and rider were gone, like theyâd never existed.

THE WEIRDNESS KEPT getting weirder.

âWhoâs Ash?â I repeated, turning back to Robbie, who seemed to be in his own world. âRobbie? Hey!â I poked him in the shoulder. He twitched and finally looked at me. âWho is Ash?â

âAsh?â For a moment, his eyes were bright and feral, his face like that of a wild dog. Then he blinked and was normal again. âOh, heâs just an old buddy of mine, from long ago. Donât worry about it, princess.â

His words slid over me strangely, like he was willing me to forget simply by requesting it. I felt a prickle of annoyance that he was hiding something, but it quickly faded, because I couldnât remember what we were talking about.

At our curb, Robbie leaped up as if the seat was on fire and rushed out the door. Blinking at his abrupt departure, I put my iPod safely in my backpack before leaving the bus. The last thing I wanted was for the expensive thing to get wet.

âI have to go,â Robbie announced when I joined him on the pavement. His green eyes swept through the trees, as if he expected something to come crashing out of the woods. I gazed around, but except for some bird trilling overhead, the forest was quiet and still. âI â¦ um â¦ forgot something at home.â He turned to me then with an apologetic look. âSee you tonight, princess? Iâll bring that champagne over later, okay?â

âOh.â Iâd forgotten about that. âSure.â

âGo straight home, okay?â Robbie narrowed his eyes, his face intense. âDonât stop, and donât talk to anyone you meet, got it?â

I laughed nervously. âWhat are you, my mom? Are you going to tell me not to run with scissors and to look both ways before crossing the street? Besides,â I continued as Robbie smirked, looking more like his normal self, âwho would I meet way out here in the boondocks?â The image of the boy on the horse suddenly came to mind, and my stomach did that strange little flop again. Who was he? And why couldnât I stop thinking about him, if he even existed at all? Things were getting really odd. If it wasnât for Robbieâs weird reaction on the bus, I would think the boy was another of my crazy hallucinations.

âFine.â Robbie waved, flashing his mischievous grin. âSee you later, princess. Donât let Leatherface catch you on your way home.â

I kicked at him. He laughed, bounced away, and sprinted off down the road. Shouldering my backpack, I trudged up the driveway.

âMOM?â I CALLED, OPENING THE front door. âMom, Iâm home.â Silence greeted me, echoing off the walls and floor, hanging heavy in the air. The stillness was almost a living thing, crouched in the center of the room, watching me with cold eyes. My heart began a loud, irregular thud in my chest. Something was wrong.

âMom?â I called again, venturing into the house. âLuke? Anybody home?â The door creaked as I crept in farther. The television blared and flickered, playing a rerun of an old black-and-white sitcom, though the couch in front of it was empty. I switched it off and continued down the hall, into the kitchen.

For a moment, everything looked normal, except for the refrigerator door, swinging on its hinges. A small object on the floor caught my attention. At first, I thought it was a dirty rag. But, looking closer, I saw it was Floppy, Ethanâs rabbit. The stuffed animalâs head had been torn off, and cotton spilled from the hole in the neck.

Straightening, I heard a small noise on the other side of the dining table. I walked around, and my stomach twisted so violently that bile rose to my throat.

My mother lay on her back on the checkered tile floor, arms and legs flung akimbo, one side of her face covered in glistening crimson. Her purse, its contents scattered everywhere, lay beside one limp white hand. Standing over her in the doorway, his head cocked to one side like a curious cat, was Ethan.

And he was smiling.

âMOM!â I SCREAMED, FLINGING myself down beside her. âMom, are you okay?â I grabbed one shoulder and shook her, but it was like shaking a dead fish. Her skin was still warm, though, so she couldnât be dead. Right?

Where the hell is Luke? I shook her again, watching her head flop limply. It made my stomach turn. âMom, wake up! Can you hear me? Itâs Meghan.â I looked around frantically, then snatched a washrag off the sink. As I dabbed it over her bloodied face, I became aware again of Ethan standing in the doorway, his blue eyes now wide and teary.

âMommy slipped,â he whispered, and I noticed a clear, slick puddle on the floor in front of the refrigerator. Hand trembling, I dipped a finger in the goo and sniffed. Vegetable oil? What the hell? I wiped more blood off her face and noticed a small gash on her temple, nearly invisible beneath blood and hair.

âWill she die?â Ethan asked, and I glanced at him sharply. Though his eyes were huge and round, and tears brimmed in the corners, he sounded more curious than anything.

I wrenched my gaze away from my half brother. I had to get help. Luke was gone, so the only thing left would be to call for an ambulance. But, just as I stood to get the phone, Mom groaned, stirred, and opened her eyes.

My heart leaped. âMom,â I said as she struggled into a sitting position, a dazed look on her face. âDonât move. Iâll call 911.â

âMeghan?â Mom looked around, blinking. A hand came up to touch her cheek, and she stared at the blood on her fingers. âWhat happened? I â¦ I mustâve fallen â¦â

âYou hit your head,â I replied, standing up and looking around for the phone. âYou might have a concussion. Hold on, Iâm calling the ambulance.â

âThe ambulance? No, no.â Mom sat up, looking a little clearer. âDonât do that, honey. Iâm fine. Iâll just clean up and put on a Band-Aid. Thereâs no need to go to that trouble.â

âBut, Momââ

âIâm fine, Meg.â Mom snatched the forgotten washrag and began wiping the blood off her face. âIâm sorry if I frightened you, but Iâll be fine. Itâs only blood, nothing serious. Besides, we canât afford a big doctorâs bill.â She abruptly straightened and looked around the room. âWhereâs your brother?â

Startled, I looked back to the doorway, but Ethan was gone.

MOMâS PROTESTS WERE WASTED when Luke got home. He took one look at her pale, bandaged face, threw a fit, and insisted they go to the hospital. Luke can be stubbornly persistent when he needs to be, and Mom eventually buckled under the pressure. She was still calling out instructions to meâtake care of Ethan, donât let him stay up too late, thereâs frozen pizza in the fridgeâas Luke bundled her into his battered Ford and roared off down the driveway.

As the truck turned a corner and vanished from sight, the chilly silence descended on the house once more. I shivered, rubbing my arms, feeling it creep into the room and breathe down my neck. The house where Iâd lived most of my life seemed unfamiliar and frightening, as if things lurked in the cupboards and around corners, waiting to grab me as I walked past. My gaze lingered on the crumpled remains of Floppy, strewn across the floor, and for some reason, it made me very sad and scared. No one in this house would rip up Ethanâs favorite stuffed animal. Something was very wrong.

Footsteps padded over the floor. I turned to find Ethan in the doorway, staring at me. He looked strange without the rabbit in his arms, and I wondered why he wasnât upset about it.

âIâm hungry,â he announced, making me blink. âCook me something, Meggie.â

I scowled at the demanding tone.

âItâs not dinnertime yet, squirt,â I told him, crossing my arms. âYou can wait a couple hours.â

His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled back from his teeth. For just a moment, I imagined they were jagged and sharp. âIâm hungry now,â he growled, taking a step forward. Dread shot through me and I recoiled.

Almost immediately, his face smoothed out again, his eyes enormous and pleading. âPlease, Meggie?â he whined.

âPlease? Iâm so hungry.â He pouted, and his voice turned menacing. âMommy didnât make me food, either.â

âAll right, fine! If itâll shut you up, fine.â The angry words erupted from fear, and from a hot embarrassment because I was afraid. Of Ethan. Of my stupid, four-year-old half brother. I didnât know where these demonic mood swings of his were coming from, but I hoped they werenât the start of a trend. Maybe he was just upset because of Momâs accident. Maybe if I fed the brat, heâd fall asleep and leave me alone for the night. I stalked to the freezer, grabbed the pizza, and shoved it in the oven.

While the pizza cooked, I tried to clean up the puddle of vegetable oil in front of the refrigerator. I wondered how the stuff had ended up on the floor, especially when I found the empty bottle stuffed in the trash. I smelled like Crisco when I was done, and the floor still had a slick spot, but it was the best I could do.

The creak of the oven door startled me. I turned to see Ethan pulling it open and reaching inside.

âEthan!â Grabbing his wrist, I yanked him back, ignoring his scream of protest. âWhat are you doing, you idiot? You want to burn yourself?â

âHungry!â

âSit down!â I snapped, plunking him into a dining chair. He actually tried to hit me, the little ingrate. I resisted the urge to smack him. âGod, youâre being snotty today. Sit there and be quiet. Iâll get your food in a second.â

When the pizza came out, he fell on it like a wild thing, not waiting for it to cool. Astonished, I could only stare as he tore through the slices like a starved dog, barely stopping to chew as he gulped it down. Soon, his face and hands were smeared with sauce and cheese, and the pizza was rapidly diminished. In less than two minutes, he had consumed it all, down to the last crumb.

Ethan licked his hands, then raised his eyes to me and frowned. âStill hungry.â

âYou are not,â I told him, snapping out of my daze. âIf you eat anything else youâll get sick. Go play in your room or something.â

He stared at me with a baleful expression, and it seemed that his skin grew darker, wrinkled, and shriveled beneath his baby fat. Without warning, he leaped off the chair, rushed me, and sank his teeth into my leg.

âOw!â Pain lanced through my calf like an electrical shock. Grabbing his hair, I tried prying his teeth from my skin, but he clung to me like a leech and bit down harder. It felt like glass shards stabbing into my leg. Tears blurred my vision, and my knees almost buckled from the pain.

âMeghan!â

Robbie stood inside the front door, a backpack flung over his shoulder, his green eyes wide with shock.

Ethan released me, jerking his head toward the shout. Blood smeared his lips. Seeing Robbie, he hissed andâthereâs no other way to put itâscuttled away from us and up the stairs, vanishing from sight.

I shook so hard I had to sit down on the couch. My leg throbbed, and my breath came in short, uneven gasps. Blood, bright and vivid, seeped through my jeans like an unfurling blossom. Dazed, I stared at it, numbness deadening my limbs, freezing them in shock.

Robbie crossed the room in three strides and knelt beside me. Briskly, as if heâd done this kind of thing before, he began rolling up the cuff of one pant leg.

âRobbie,â I whispered as he bent over his task, his long fingers surprisingly gentle. âWhatâs happening? Everythingâs going crazy. Ethan just attacked me â¦ like a wild dog.â

âThat wasnât your brother,â Robbie muttered as he pushed back the material, revealing a bloody mess below my knee. An oval of jagged puncture wounds marred my leg, seeping blood, and the skin around them was already purpling. Rob whistled softly. âNasty. Wait here. Iâll be right back.â

âLike Iâm going anywhere,â I replied automatically, and then his previous statement sank in. âWait a minute. What do you mean, that wasnât Ethan? Who the hell else could it be?â

Rob ignored me. Walking to his backpack, he opened it and pulled out a long, green-tinted bottle and a tiny crystal cup. I frowned. Why was he going for champagne now? I was hurt, in pain, and my kid brother had turned into a monster. I was certainly not in the mood for celebrating.

With the utmost care, Robbie poured the champagne into the cup and walked back, being careful not to spill a single drop.

âHere,â he said, giving it to me. The cup sparkled in his hand. âDrink this. Where do you keep the towels?â

I took it suspiciously. âIn the bathroom. Just donât use Momâs good white ones.â As Rob walked off, I peered into the tiny cup. There was barely enough for a swallow. It didnât look like champagne to me. I was expecting something fizzy white or pink, sparkling in the glass. The liquid in the cup was a deep, dark red, the color of blood. A fine mist writhed and danced on the surface.

âWhat is this?â

Robbie, returning from the bathroom with a white towel, rolled his eyes. âDo you have to question everything? It will help you forget the pain. Just drink it already.â

I sniffed experimentally, expecting hints of roses or berries or some type of sweet scent mixed in with the alcohol.

It smelled of nothing. Nothing at all.

Oh, well. I raised the glass in a silent toast. âHappy birthday to me.â

The wine filled my mouth, flooding my senses. It tasted of nothing, and everything. It tasted of twilight and mist, moonlight and frost, emptiness and longing. The room swayed, and I fell back against the couch, it was so strong. Reality blurred at the edges, wrapping me in a fuzzy haze. I felt sick and sleepy all at once.

By the time my senses cleared, Robbie was tying a bandage around my leg. I didnât remember him cleaning or dressing the wound. I felt numb and dazed, like a blanket had dropped over my thoughts, making it hard to concentrate.

âThere,â Robbie said, straightening up. âThatâs done. At least your leg wonât fall off.â His eyes swept up to mine, anxious and assessing. âHowâre you feeling, princess?â

âUn,â I said intelligently, and tried to sweep the cobwebs from my brain. There was something I wasnât remembering, something important. Why was Robbie binding my leg? Had I hurt myself somehow?

I bolted upright.

âEthan bit me!â I exclaimed, indignant and furious all over again. I turned on Robbie. âAnd you â¦ you said that wasnât Ethan at all! What were you talking about? Whatâs going on?â

âRelax, princess.â Robbie tossed the bloody towel onto the floor and plopped onto a footstool. He sighed. âI was hoping it wouldnât come to this. My fault, I suppose. I shouldnât have left you alone today.â

âWhat are you talking about?â

âYou werenât supposed to see this, any of this,â Robbie went on, to my utter confusion. He seemed to be talking more to himself than me. âYour Sight has always been strong, that was a given. Still, I didnât expect them to go after your family, too. This changes things.â

âRob, if you donât tell me whatâs going onââ

Robbie looked at me. His eyes gleamed, impish and feral.

âTell you? Are you sure?â His voice went soft and dangerous, and goose bumps crawled up my arms. âOnce you start seeing things, you wonât be able to stop. People have gone mad with too much knowledge.â He sighed, and the menace dropped from his eyes. âI donât want that to happen to you, princess. It doesnât have to be this way, you know. I can make you forget all of this.â

âForget?â

He nodded and held up the wine bottle. âThis is mistwine.

You just had a swallow. A cup will make everything go back to normal.â He balanced the bottle on two fingers, watching it sway back and forth. âOne cup, and youâll be normal again. Your brotherâs behavior will not seem strange, and you wonât remember anything weird or scary. You know what they sayâignorance is bliss, right?â

Despite my uneasiness, I felt a slow flame of anger burning my chest. âSo, you want me to drink that â¦ that stuff, and just forget about Ethan. Just forget about my only brother. Thatâs what youâre saying.â

He raised an eyebrow. âWell, when you put it like that â¦â

The burning grew hot and furious, searing away the fear.

I clenched my fists. âOf course I wonât forget about Ethan!

Heâs my brother! Are you really that inhuman, or just stupid?â

To my surprise, a grin spread over his face. He dropped the bottle, caught it, and put it on the floor. âThe first,â he said, very softly.

That threw me. âWhat?â

âInhuman.â He was still grinning at me, the smile stretching his whole mouth so that his teeth gleamed in the fading light. âI warned you, princess. Iâm not like you. And now, neither is your brother.â

Despite the fear prickling my stomach, I leaned forward. âEthan? What do you mean? Whatâs wrong with him?â

âThat wasnât Ethan.â Robbie leaned back, crossing his arms. âThe thing that attacked you today is a changeling.â

CHAPTER FOUR

Puck

I stared at Robbie, wondering if this was another one of his stupid pranks. He sat there, observing me calmly, watching my reaction. Though he still wore a half grin, his eyes were hard and serious. He wasnât joking around.

âCh-changeling?â I finally stammered, looking at him like he was insane. âIsnât that some kind of â¦ of â¦â

âFaery,â Robbie finished for me. âA changeling is a faery offspring that has been switched with a human child. Usually, a trollâs or goblinâs, though the sidheâthe faery nobilityâhave been known to make the switch, as well. Your brother has been replaced. That thing is not Ethan, any more than I am.â

âYouâre crazy,â I whispered. If I wasnât sitting, Iâd be backing away from him toward the door. âYouâve gone off the deep end. Time to cut back on the anime, Rob. Thereâs no such thing as faeries.â

Robbie sighed. âReally? Thatâs what youâre going with? How predictable.â He leaned back and crossed his arms. âI thought better of you, princess.â

âThought better of me?â I cried, leaping off the couch.

âListen to yourself! You really expect me to believe that my brother is some kind of pixie with glitter dust and butterfly wings?â

âDonât be stupid,â Rob said mildly. âYou have no idea what youâre talking about. Youâre thinking âTinker Bell,â which is a typical human response to the word faery. The real fey arenât like that at all.â He paused a moment. âWell, except for the piskies, of course, but thatâs a different story altogether.â

I shook my head, my thoughts spinning in several directions at once. âI canât deal with this right now,â I muttered and staggered away from him. âI have to check on Ethan.â

Robbie only shrugged, leaned back against the wall, and put his hands behind his head. After one final glare at him, I rushed up the stairs and opened the door to Ethanâs bedroom.

It was a mess, a war zone of broken toys, books, and scattered clothes. I looked around for Ethan, but the room appeared empty, until I heard a faint scratching noise under his bed.

âEthan?â Kneeling down, pushing away broken action figures and snapped Tinkertoys, I peered into the space between the mattress and the floor. In the shadows, I could just make out a small lump huddled in the corner with his back to me. He was trembling.

âEthan,â I called softly. âAre you all right? Why donât you come out a second? Iâm not mad at you.â Well, that was a lie, but I was more shaken than angry. I wanted to drag Ethan downstairs and prove that he wasnât a troll or a changeling or whatever Robbie said he was.

The lump stirred a little, and Ethanâs voice drifted out of the gap. âIs the scary man still here?â he asked in a small, frightened voice. I mightâve been sympathetic, if my calf wasnât throbbing so much.

âNo,â I lied. âHeâs gone now. You can come out.â Ethan didnât move, and my irritation sparked. âEthan, this is ridiculous. Get out of there already, will you?â I stuck my head farther under the mattress and reached for him.

Ethan turned on me with a hiss, eyes burning yellow, and lunged at my arm. I jerked it back as his teeth, jaggedly pointed like a sharkâs, snapped together with a horrid clicking sound. Ethan snarled, his skin the ghastly blue of a drowned infantâs, bared teeth shining in the darkness. I shrieked, scrabbling back, Lego blocks and Tinkertoys biting into my palms. Hitting the wall, I leaped to my feet, turned, and fled the room.

And ran smack into Robbie, standing outside the door.

He grabbed my shoulders as I screamed and started hitting him, barely conscious of what I was doing. He bore the attack wordlessly, simply holding me in place, until I collapsed against him and buried my head in his chest. And he held me as I sobbed out my fear and anger.

At last, the tears stopped, leaving me drained and utterly exhausted. I sniffed and backed away, wiping my eyes on my palm, shaking. Robbie still stood there quietly, his shirt damp with my tears. The door to Ethanâs bedroom was shut, but I could hear faint thumps and cackling laughter beyond the door.

I shivered, looking up at Robbie. âEthan is really gone?â

I whispered. âHeâs not just hiding somewhere? Heâs really gone?â

Robbie nodded gravely. I looked at Ethanâs bedroom door and bit my lip. âWhere is he now?â

âProbably in Faeryland.â Stated so simply, I almost laughed from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Ethan had been stolen by faeries and replaced with an evil doppelgÃ¤nger. Faeries kidnapped my brother. I was tempted to pinch myself to see if this was a twisted dream or hallucination. Maybe I had fallen into a drunken stupor on the couch. On impulse, I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. The sharp pain and taste of blood told me this was, indeed, real.

I looked to Robbie, and his grave expression banished the last of my doubts. A sick feeling rose to my stomach, making me nauseous and afraid.

âSo.â I swallowed and forced myself to be calm. Okay, Ethan was kidnapped by faeries; I could deal with this. âWhat do we do now?â

Robbie raised one shoulder. âThatâs up to you, princess. There are human families that have raised changelings as their own, though they are usually unaware of the childâs true nature. Generally speaking, if you feed it and leave it alone, it will settle into its new home without too much trouble. Changelings make a nuisance of themselves at first, but most families adapt.â Robbie grinned, but it was an attempt at lightheartedness rather than humor. âHopefully, your folks will think heâs just going through a late terrible twos.â

âRobbie, that thing bit me, and probably made Mom slip and fall in the kitchen. Itâs more than a nuisance, itâs dangerous.â I glared at Ethanâs closed door and shuddered. âI want it gone. I want my brother back. How do we get rid of it?â

Robbie sobered. âWell, there are ways of getting rid of changelings,â he began, looking uncomfortable. âOne old method is to brew beer or cook stew in eggshells, and that will make the changeling comment on the weirdness of it. But that method was for infants whoâd been switchedâsince the baby was too young to speak, the parents knew that the impostor was a changeling and the real parents had to take it back. I donât think itâll work for someone older, like your brother.â

âGreat. Whatâs another way?â

âEr, the other way is to beat the changeling near to death, until the screams force the fey parents to return the real child. Barring that, you could stick him in the oven and cook him aliveââ

âStop.â I felt sick. âI canât do any of those things, Robbie.

I just canât. There has to be another way.â

âWell.â Rob looked hesitant and scratched the back of his neck. âThe only other way is to travel into the faery lands and take him back. Bringing the real child into the home again will force the changeling to leave. But.â He paused, as if on the verge of saying something, only to think better of it.

âBut what?â

âBut â¦ you donât know who took your brother. And without that knowledge, youâll just be walking in circles. And, if youâre wondering, walking in circles in Faeryland is a very, very bad idea.â

I narrowed my eyes. âI donât know who took him,â I agreed, staring hard at Robbie, âbut you do.â

Robbie shuffled nervously. âI have a guess.â

âWho?â

âItâs just a guess, mind you. I could be wrong. Donât go jumping to conclusions.â

âRobbie!â

He sighed. âThe Unseelie Court.â

âThe what?â

âThe Unseelie Court,â Robbie repeated. âThe Court of Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness. Sworn enemies of King Oberon and Queen Titania. Very powerful. Very nasty.â

âWait, wait, wait.â I held up my hands. âOberon? Titania? Like from A Midsummer Nightâs Dream? Arenât those just ancient myths?â

âAncient, yes,â Robbie said. âMyths, no. The faery lords are immortal. Those who have songs, ballads, and stories written about them never die. Belief, worship, imaginationâwe were born of the dreams and fears of mortals, and if we are remembered, even in some small way, we will always exist.â

âYou keep saying âwe,ââ I pointed out. âAs though youâre one of those immortal faeries. As though youâre one of them.â Robbie smiled, a proud, impish smile, and I gulped. âWho are you, anyway?â

âAh, well.â Robbie shrugged, trying to look modest and failing entirely. âIf youâve read A Midsummer Nightâs Dream, you might remember me. There was this unfortunate incident, completely unplanned, where I gave someone a donkeyâs head and made Titania fall in love with him.â

I ran through the play in my mind. Iâd read it in the seventh grade, but had forgotten most of the plot. There were so many characters, so many names to sift through, people falling in and out of love so often it was ridiculous. I remembered a few human names: Hermia, Helena, Demetrius. On the faery side, there was Oberon and Titania and â¦

âShit,â I whispered, falling back against the wall. I stared at Robbie with new eyes. âRobbie Goodfell. Robin â¦ youâre Robin Good fellow.â

Robbie grinned. âCall me Puck.â

PUCK. THE PUCK WAS STANDING in my hallway.

âNo way,â I whispered, shaking my head. This was Robbie, my closest friend. I wouldâve known if he was an ancient faery.

Wouldnât I?

Frighteningly, the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Iâd never seen Robbieâs house, or his parents. The teachers all loved him, though he never did a lick of school-work and slept through most of the classes. And strange things happened when he was around: mice and frogs ended up in desks, or names were switched around on term papers. Though Robbie Goodfell thought these scenarios absolutely hilarious, no one ever suspected him.

âNo,â I muttered again, backing away toward my room.

âThatâs impossible. Puck is a legend, a myth. I donât believe it.â

Robbie gave me that eerie smile. âThen, princess, by all means, let me assure you.â

His arms rose from his sides, as if he might levitate into the air. From downstairs, I heard the front door creak open, and I hoped Mom and Luke werenât home yet. Yeah, Mom, Ethanâs turned into a monster and my best friend thinks heâs a faery. How was your day?

An enormous black bird swooped into the hallway. I yelped and ducked as the raven, or crow or whatever it was, made a beeline straight for Robbie and perched on his arm. They watched me, the pair of them, with glittering eyes, and Robbie smiled.

A rush of wind, and suddenly, the air was filled with screaming black birds, swooping in from the open door. I gasped and ducked as the cloud of ravens filled the hallway, their raucous cries nearly deafening me. They swirled around Robbie, a tornado of beating wings and sharp claws, tearing at him with talons and beaks. Feathers flew everywhere, and Robbie disappeared within the swirling mass. Then, as one, the birds scattered, flying out the open door as swiftly as they had come. As the last bird swooped outside, the door slammed behind it, and silence descended once more. I caught my breath and glanced at Rob.

Robbie was gone. Only a swirl of black feathers and dust motes remained in the place where heâd stood.

It was too much. I felt my sanity unravel like frayed cloth. With a choked scream, I turned and fled into my room, slamming the door behind me. Flinging myself under my bedcovers, I put the pillow over my head and shook, hoping that when I woke up, things would be normal.

My door opened, and the sound of wings fluttered into my room. I didnât want to look and pulled the covers tighter around me, willing the nightmare to end. I heard a sigh, and footsteps padded over the floor.

âWell, I tried to warn you, princess.â

I peeked out. Robbie stood there, looking down at me, a pained smile on his face. Seeing him, I felt relieved, angry, and terrified at the same time. I threw off the covers and sat up, narrowing my eyes as I stared at him. Robbie waited, hands in the pockets of his jeans, as if daring me to contradict him some more.

âYou really are Puck?â I said finally. âThe Puck? Like in the stories?â

Robbie/Puck gave a little bow. âThe one and only.â

My heart was still pounding. I took a deep breath to calm it and glared at the stranger in my room. My emotions churned; I didnât know what to feel. I settled on anger; Robbie had been my best friend for years, and he never saw fit to share his secret with me. âYou could have told me sooner,â I said, trying not to sound hurt. âI would have kept your secret.â He only smirked and raised an eyebrow, infuriating me even more. âFine. Go back to Faeryland, or wherever you come from. Arenât you supposed to be Oberonâs jester or something? Why were you hanging around me so long?â

âYou wound me, princess.â Robbie sounded anything but hurt. âAnd after I made up my mind to help you get your brother back.â

My anger vanished instantly, replaced with fear. With all the talk of fey and faery lords, Iâd nearly forgotten about Ethan.

I shivered as my stomach twisted into a tight little ball. This still felt like something out of a nightmare. But Ethan was gone, and faeries were real. I had to accept that now. Robbie stood there, gazing at me expectantly. A black feather dropped from his hair, spiraling down to the bed. Gingerly, I picked it up, twirling it in my fingers. It felt solid and real.

âYouâll help me?â I whispered.

He gave me a shrewd look, one corner of his mouth turning up. âDo you know a way into Faery by yourself?â

âNo.â

âThen you need my help.â Robbie smiled and rubbed his hands together. âBesides, itâs been a while since Iâve gone home, and nothing ever happens here. Storming the Unseelie Court sounds like fun.â

I didnât share his enthusiasm. âWhen do we leave?â I asked.

âNow,â Robbie replied. âThe sooner the better. Do you have anything you want to take, princess? You might not be back for a while.â

I nodded, trying to stay calm. âJust give me a minute.â

Robbie nodded and walked into the hallway. I snatched my bright orange backpack and tossed it on the bed, wondering what to take. What did one need for an overnight trip to Faeryland? I grabbed jeans and an extra shirt, a flashlight, and a bottle of aspirin, stuffing them into the pack. Walking down to the kitchen, I tossed in a Coke and a couple of bags of chips, hoping Robbie would know where to find food on the journey. Finally, not even knowing why, I grabbed my iPod, zipping it into the side pocket.

Mom was supposed to take me to the DMV today. I hesitated, biting my lip. What would Mom and Luke think when they found me gone? Iâd always followed the rules, never sneaking outâexcept that one time with Robbieânever staying up past curfew. I wondered what Rob meant when he said weâd be gone âawhile.â Luke might not even notice Iâd left, but Mom would worry. Grabbing an old homework sheet, I started to write her a quick note, but stopped, my pen hovering over the paper.

What are you going to tell her? âDear Mom, Ethanâs been kidnapped by faeries. Gone to get him back. Oh, and donât trust the Ethan thatâs hereâheâs really a faery changeling.â It sounded insane even to me. I hesitated, thinking, then scrawled a quick:

Mom, thereâs something I have to take care of. Iâll be back soon, I promise. Donât worry about me. Meghan

I stuck the note on the refrigerator door, trying not to think that I might never see home again. Shouldering the pack, feeling my insides squirm like a nest of snakes, I climbed the stairs.

Robbie waited on the landing, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a lazy grin. âReady?â

Apprehension tickled my stomach. âWill it be very dangerous?â

âOh, extremely,â Robbie said, walking up to Ethanâs bedroom door. âThatâs what makes it fun. You can die in so many interesting waysâskewered on a glass sword, dragged underwater and eaten by a kelpie, turned into a spider or a rosebush for all timeââ He looked back at me. âWell, are you coming or not?â

I noticed my hands were shaking and held them to my chest. âWhy are you saying these things?â I whispered. âAre you trying to scare me?â

âYes,â Robbie replied, unabashed. He paused at Ethanâs door, one hand on the knob, and stared at me. âThese are the things youâre going to face, princess. Iâm giving you fair warning now. Still think you want to go? My previous offer still stands.â

I remembered the taste of the mistwine, the desperate longing for more, and shivered. âNo,â I said quickly. âI wonât leave Ethan with a bunch of monsters. Iâve lost a father alreadyâI wonât lose a brother, as well.â

And then, something occurred to me, something that left me breathless, wondering why I didnât think of it before. Dad. My heart pounded, recalling half-remembered dreams, where my father vanished beneath a pond and never resurfaced. What if heâd been kidnapped by faeries, as well? I could find Ethan and my dad, and bring them both home!

âLetâs go,â I demanded, looking Robbie in the eyes. âCome on, weâve wasted enough time here. If weâre gonna do this, letâs get it over with.â

Rob blinked, and a strange look passed over his face. For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something. But then he shook himself, like he was coming out of a trance, and the moment was gone.

âAll right, then. Donât say I didnât warn you.â He grinned, and the gleam in his eyes grew brighter. âFirst things first. We have to find an entrance to the Nevernever. Thatâs Faeryland to you. Itâs not a place you can just walk to, and the doors are usually very well hidden. Fortunately, I have a good idea of where one is lurking.â He grinned, turned away, and pounded on Ethanâs bedroom door. âKnock, knock!â he called in a high, singsong voice.

For a moment, silence. Then came a thud and a crash, as if something heavy had been hurled at the door. âGo away!â snarled the voice from within.

âAh, no. Thatâs not how the joke goes,â called Rob. âI say âknock, knock,â and youâre supposed to answer with âwhoâs there?ââ

âFuck off!â

âNope, thatâs still wrong.â Robbie seemed unperturbed. I, however, was horrified at Ethanâs language, though I knew it wasnât him. âHere,â continued Rob in an amiable voice, âIâll go through the whole thing, so youâll know how to answer next time.â He cleared his throat and pounded the door again. âKnock, knock!â he bellowed. âWhoâs there? Puck! Puck who? Puck, who will turn you into a squealing pig and stuff you in the oven if you donât get out of our way!â And with that, he banged open the door.

The thing that looked like Ethan stood on the bed, a book in each hand. With a hiss, he hurled them at the doorway. Robbie dodged, but one paperback hit me in the stomach and I grunted.

âPlease,â I heard Rob mutter, and a ripple went through the air. Suddenly, all the books in the room flapped their covers, rose off the floor and shelves, and began dive-bombing Ethan like a flock of enraged seagulls. I could only stare, feeling my life get more surreal by the second. The fake Ethan hissed and snarled, swatting at the books as they buzzed around him, until one hit him smack in the face and tumbled him off the mattress. Spitting in fury, he darted under the bed. I heard claws scrabbling against the wood as his feet vanished into the crawl space. Curses and growls drifted out from the darkness.

Robbie shook his head. âAmateurs.â He sighed as the books swooping around the room froze midflight and rained to the floor with echoing thuds. âLetâs go, princess.â

I SHOOK MYSELF AND PICKED MY way over fallen books, joining Robbie in the middle of the room. âSo,â I ventured, trying to sound casual, as if flying books and faeries were something I encountered every day. âWhereâs this entrance to Faeryland? Will you have to make a magic ring or cast a spell or something?â

Rob snickered. âNot exactly, princess. Youâre making it too complicated. Doorways to the Nevernever tend to appear in places where there is a lot of belief, creativity, or imagination. Often you can find one in a childâs bedroom closet, or under his bed.â

Floppyâs afraid of the man in the closet. I shivered, mentally apologizing to my half brother. When I found him again, Iâd be sure to tell him I believed in the monsters, too.

âThe closet, then,â I murmured, stepping over books and toys to reach it. My hand shook a bit as I grabbed the doorknob. No turning back now, I told myself, and pulled it open.

A tall, emaciated figure with a narrow face and sunken eyes stared at me as the door swung open. A black suit clung to its rail-thin body, and a bowler hat perched atop its pointed head. It blinked wide, staring at me, and bloodless lips pulled back in a grimace, revealing thin, pointed teeth. I leaped back with a shriek.

âMy closet!â hissed the figure. A spiderlike hand darted out and grabbed the doorknob. âMy closet! Mine!â And it slammed the door with a bang.

Robbie gave an exasperated sigh as I skittered behind him, my heart careening around my rib cage like a bat. âBogeys,â he muttered, shaking his head. He strode to the door, tapped on it three times, and flung it open.

This time, the space stood empty, except for hanging shirts, stacked boxes, and normal closet things. Robbie shoved aside the clothes, maneuvered around the boxes, and put a hand to the back wall, tracing his fingers along the wood. Curious, I edged closer.

âWhere are you?â he muttered, feeling along the wall. I crept to the doorway and peered over his shoulder. âI know youâre here. Where is. Aha.â

Crouching down, he took a breath and blew against the wall. Instantly, a cloud of dust arose, billowing around him and sparkling like orange glitter.

When he straightened, I saw a gold handle on the back wall, and the faint outline of a door, pale light shining through the bottom crack.

âCome on, princess.â Rob turned and beckoned me forward. His eyes glowed green in the darkness. âThis is our ride. Your one-way ticket to the Nevernever.â

I hesitated, waiting for my pulse to slow to something resembling normal. It didnât. This is insane, a small, scared part of me whispered. Who knew what waited through that doorway, what horrors lurked in the shadows? I might never come home again. This was my last chance to turn back.

No, I told myself. I canât turn back. Ethan is out there, somewhere. Ethan is counting on me. I took a deep breath and one step forward.

A wrinkled hand shot from beneath the bed, latching on to my ankle. It yanked savagely and I nearly fell, as a snarl echoed from the dark space beneath. With a shriek, I kicked free of the flailing claw, charged blindly into the closet, and slammed the door behind me.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Nevernever

In the musty darkness of Ethanâs closet, I pressed a hand to my chest and waited once more for my heartbeat to return to normal. Blackness surrounded me, except for the thin rectangle of light outlined against the far wall. I couldnât see Robbie, but I felt his presence close by, heard his quiet breathing in my ear.

âReady?â he whispered, his breath warm on my skin. And before I could answer, he pushed the door back with a creak, revealing the Nevernever.

Pale silver light flooded the room. The clearing beyond the door frame was surrounded by enormous trees, so thick and tangled I couldnât see the sky through the branches. A curling mist crept along the ground, and the woods were dark and still, as if the forest was trapped in perpetual twilight. Here and there, brilliant splashes of color stood out among the gray. A patch of flowers, their petals a shocking electric-blue, waved gently in the mist. A creeper vine snaked around the trunk of a dying oak, long red thorns a stark contrast to the tree it was killing.

A warm breeze blew into the closet, carrying with it a shocking assortment of smellsâsmells that should not be together in one place. Crushed leaves and cinnamon, smoke and apples, fresh earth, lavender, and the faint, cloying scent of rot and decay. For a moment, I caught a tang of something metallic and coppery, wrapped around the smell of rot, but it was gone in the next breath. Clouds of insects swarmed overhead, and if I listened hard I could almost imagine I heard singing. The forest was still at first, but I then caught movement deep in the shadows, and heard leaves rustle all around us. Invisible eyes seemed to watch me from every angle, boring into my skin.

Robbie, his hair a bright flame atop his head, stepped through the doorway, gazed around, and laughed. âHome.â He sighed, flinging his arms wide, as if to embrace it all. âIâm finally home.â He spun in place and, with another laugh, fell backward into the mist, like he was making a snow angel, and vanished.

I gulped and took a cautious step forward. Mist swirled around my ankles like a living thing, caressing my skin with damp fingers. âRob?â

The silence mocked me. Out of the corner of my eye, something big and white darted into the trees like quicksilver. âRob?â I called again, edging to the place he had fallen.

âWhere are you? Robbie?â

âBoo.â Rob appeared behind me, rising out of the mist like a vampire from its coffin. To say I screamed was a bit of an understatement.

âA little jumpy today, arenât we?â Robbie laughed and darted out of reach before I could kill him. âTime to switch to decaf, princess. If youâre going to shriek at every bogey that jumps out and says âboo,â youâll be exhausted before we reach the edge of the woods.â

He had changed. Hunter-green pants and a thick brown hoodie replaced his jeans and ratty T-shirt. I couldnât see his feet very well in the mist, but it looked like heâd traded his sneakers for soft leather boots. His face was leaner, harsher, with sharp angles and pointed features. Combined with his bright auburn hair and green eyes, he reminded me of a grinning fox.

But the most noticeable difference was his ears. Slender and pointed, they jutted out from the sides of his head, like â¦ well, like an elfâs. And, in that moment, all traces of Robbie Goodfell disappeared. The boy Iâd known for most of my life was gone, like he never existed, and only Puck remained.

âWhatâs the matter, princess?â Puck yawned, stretching his long limbs. Was it my imagination, or had he gotten taller, too? âYou look like you lost your best friend.â

I ignored the question, not wanting to dwell on it. âHow did you do that?â I asked, to steer the conversation elsewhere. âYour clothes, I mean. Theyâre different. And the way you made the books fly around the room. Was it magic?â

Puck grinned. âGlamour,â he said, as if that meant anything to me at all. I frowned at him, and he sighed. âI didnât have time to change before we came here, and my lord King Oberon frowns on wearing mortal clothes to court. So I used glamour to make myself presentable. Just like I used glamour to make myself look human.â

âWait a minute.â I thought back to the dream conversation between Robbie and the nurse. âAre there others like you â¦ you faery-types, walking around back home? Right under everyoneâs noses?â

Puck gave me a very eerie smile. âWeâre everywhere, princess,â he said firmly. âUnder your bed, in your attic, walking past you on the street.â His smile grew wider, more wolfish. âGlamour is fueled by the dreams and imagination of mortals. Writers, artists, little boys pretending to be knightsâthe fey are drawn to them like moths to a flame. Why do you think so many children have imaginary friends? Even your brother had one. Floppy, I think he called it, though that wasnât its true name. A pity the changeling managed to kill it.â

My stomach felt tight. âAnd â¦ no one can see you?â

âWeâre invisible, or we use glamour to hide our true nature.â Puck leaned against a tree, lacing his hands behind his head in a very Robbie-like fashion. âDonât look so shocked, princess. Mortals have perfected the art of not seeing what they donât expect to be there. Though, there are a few rare humans who can see through the mist and the glamour. Usually, these are very special individualsâinnocent, naive dreamersâand the fey are even more attracted to them.â

âLike Ethan,â I murmured.

Puck gave me a strange look, one corner of his mouth quirked up. âLike you, princess.â He seemed about to say something else, but then a branch snapped somewhere in the tangled darkness.

He straightened quickly. âWhoops, time to go. Itâs dangerous to linger in any one place. Weâll attract unwanted attention.â

âWhat?â I exclaimed as he strode across the clearing, moving as gracefully as a deer. âI thought you said this was home.â

âThe Nevernever is home to all fey,â Puck said without looking back. âItâs divided into territories, or more technically, Courts. The Seelie Court is Oberonâs domain, while Mab rules the Unseelie territories. While in the Courts, it is usually forbidden to torment, maim, or kill another fey without permission from its rulers.

âHowever,â he continued, looking back at me, âright now, we are in neutral territory, home of the wild fey. Here, as you humans put it, all bets are off. The things coming at us now could be a herd of satyrs who will make you dance until youâre exhausted, then rape you one by one, or it could be a pack of hedge wolves that will tear us both apart. Either way, I donât think you want to hang around.â

I was afraid again. It seemed I was always afraid. I didnât want to be here, in this eerie forest, with this person I only thought I knew. I wanted to go home. Only, home had become a frightening place as well, almost as much as the Nevernever. I felt lost and betrayed, out of place in a world that wished me harm.

Ethan, I reminded myself. Youâre doing this for Ethan. Once you get him, you can go home and everything will go back to normal.

The rustling grew louder, and twigs snapped as whatever was out there drew closer. âPrincess,â Puck snapped, right next to me. I jumped and bit down a shriek as he grabbed my wrist. âThe aforementioned nasties have picked up our scent and are coming for us.â Though his voice was casual, I could see the strain in his eyes. âIf you donât want your first day in the Nevernever to be your last, I suggest we move.â

I looked back and saw the door we came through standing upright in the middle of the clearing. âWill we be able to get back home this way?â I asked as Puck pulled me along.

âNope.â When I stared at him in horror, he shrugged.

âWell, you canât expect the doors to stand around in one place, princess. Donât worry, though. You have me, remember? When the time comes, weâll find the way home.â

We ran for the far side of the clearing, straight for a tangle of bushes with hooked yellow thorns as long as my thumb. I held back, sure weâd be sliced to ribbons, but as we neared, the branches shivered and peeled away from us, revealing a narrow path cutting through the trees. As we stepped through, the bushes knitted together again, hiding the trail and protecting our retreat.

We walked for hours, or at least it felt that way to me. Puck kept up a steady pace, neither hurrying nor slowing down, and in time the sounds of pursuit faded away. Sometimes the trail split, wending off in different directions, but Puck always chose a path without hesitation. Many times, Iâd catch movement from the corner of my eyeâa flash of color in the brush, a figure silhouetted between the treesâbut when I turned, thereâd be nothing. Sometimes, I almost swore I heard singing or music, but, of course, it would fade when I tried to focus on it. The sickly luminescence of the forest never dimmed or brightened, and when I asked Puck what time night would fall, he cocked an eyebrow at me and said night would come when it was ready.

Annoyed, I checked my watch, wondering how long weâd been traveling. I received an unpleasant shock. The slender hands were frozen in place. Either the watchâs battery was dead, or something else was interfering.

Or maybe time doesnât exist in this place. I donât know why I found that immensely disturbing, but I did.

My feet were aching, my stomach hurt, and my legs were burning with exhaustion when the eternal twilight finally began to dim. Puck stopped, gazing up at the sky, where an enormous moon glimmered over the treetops, so close you could see pits and craters marring the surface.

âI suppose we should rest for the night.â Puck sounded reluctant. He gave me a sideways grin as I collapsed on a moldy log. âWe wouldnât want you stumbling onto a dancing mound, or following a white bunny down a dark hole. Come on, I know a place not far from here where we can sleep undisturbed.â

He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. My limbs screamed in protest, and I almost sat down again. I was tired, cranky, and the last thing I wanted was more hiking. Gazing around, I saw a lovely little pond through a stand of trees. The water shimmered in the moonlight, and I paused, gazing out over the mirrored surface. âWhy not stop there?â I asked.

Puck took one look at the pond, grimaced, and pulled me onward. âAh, no,â he said quickly. âToo many nasties lurking underwaterâkelpies and glaistigs and mermaids and such. Best not to risk it.â

I looked back and saw a dark shape breach the perfect surface of the pond, sending ripples across the still water. The top of a horseâs head, coal-black and slick like a seal, watched me with baleful white eyes. With a gasp, I hurried on.

A few minutes later, we came to the trunk of a huge, gnarled tree. The bark was so knobby and rough that I could almost see faces peering out of the trunk. It reminded me of wrinkled old men, stacked atop each other and waving their crooked arms indignantly.

Puck knelt among the roots and knocked on the wood. I peered over his shoulder and, with a start, saw a tiny door, barely a foot tall, near the base of the tree. As I watched, wide-eyed, the door creaked open, and a head peered out suspiciously.

âEh? Whoâs there?â a rough, squeaky voice asked as I stared in wonder. The little manâs skin was the color of walnuts; his hair looked like a bundle of twigs sticking out of his scalp. He wore a brown tunic and brown leggings, and looked like a stick come to life, except for the eyes peering out of his face, black and shiny like a beetleâs.

âGood evening, Twiggs,â Puck greeted politely.

The little man blinked, squinting up at the figure towering over him. âRobin Good fellow?â he squeaked at last. âHavenât seen you round these parts in a while. What brings you to my humble tree?â

âEscort service,â Puck replied, shifting to the side so that Twiggs could get a clear view of me. Those beady eyes fixed on me, blinking in confusion. Then, suddenly, they got huge and round, as Twiggs looked back at Puck.

âIs â¦ is that â¦ ?â

âIt is.â

âDoes she â¦ ?â

âNo.â

âOh, my.â Twiggs opened the door wide, beckoning with a sticklike arm. âCome in, come in. Quickly, now. Before the dryads catch sight of you, the irritating gossips.â He vanished inside, and Puck turned to me.

âIâll never be able to fit in there,â I told him before he could say a word. âThereâs no way Iâm going to squeeze through, unless youâve got a magic toadstool thatâll shrink me to the size of a wasp. And Iâm not eating anything like that. Iâve seen Alice in Wonderland, you know.â

Puck grinned and took my hand.

âClose your eyes,â he told me, âand just walk.â

I did, half expecting to walk nose first into the tree, courtesy of a great Robbie-prank. When nothing happened, I almost peeked but thought better of it. The air turned warm, and I heard a door slam behind me, when Puck said I could open my eyes again.

I stood in a cozy, round room, the walls made of smooth red wood, the floor covered with mossy carpet. A flat rock on three stumps served as a table in the center of the room, displaying berries the size of soccer balls. A rope ladder hung on the far wall, and when my gaze followed it up, I nearly fainted. Dozens of insects crawled on the walls or hovered in the air high above us, for the trunk extended farther than I could see. Each bug was the size of a cocker spaniel, and their rear ends glowed a luminescent yellow-green.

âYouâve been renovating, Twiggs,â Puck said, sitting on a bundle of furs that passed for a couch. I looked closer and saw the head of a squirrel still attached to the skin, and had to look away. âThis place was barely a hole in the tree when I saw it last.â

Twiggs looked pleased. He was our height nowâactually, I guess we were more his heightâand up close he smelled of cedar and moss.

âYes, Iâve grown quite fond of it,â Twiggs said, walking over to the table. He picked up a knife and split a berry into thirds, arranging the pieces on wooden plates. âStill, I might have to move soon. The dryads whisper to me, tell me dark things. They say parts of the wyldwood are dying, vanishing more every day. No one knows what is causing it.â

âYou know whatâs causing it,â Puck said, draping the squirrel tail over his lap. âWe all do. This is nothing new.â

âNo.â Twiggs shook his head. âMortal disbelief has always taken a bit of the Nevernever, but not like this. This is â¦ different. Itâs hard to explain. Youâll see what I mean if you go any farther.â

He handed us each a plate with a huge slab of red berry, half an acorn, and a pile of what looked like steamed white grubs. Despite the weirdness of the day, I was ravenous after hours of hiking. The berry wedge tasted tart and sweet, but I wasnât about to touch the maggoty-looking things and gave them all to Puck. After dinner, Twiggs made me a bed of squirrel hides and chipmunk fur, and though I was mildly grossed out, I fell asleep immediately.

THAT NIGHT, I DREAMED.

In my dream, my house was dark and still, the living room cloaked in shadow. A brief glimpse of the wall clock pronounced it 3:19 a.m. I floated through the living room past the kitchen and made my way up the stairs. The door to my room was closed, and I heard Lukeâs grizzly-bear snores coming from the master bedroom, but at the end of the hall, Ethanâs door stood slightly ajar. I padded down the hallway and peeked in through the crack.

A stranger stood in Ethanâs bedroom, a tall, lean figure dressed in silver and black. A boy, perhaps a little older than me, though it was impossible to tell his exact age. His body was youthful, but there was a stillness to him that hinted at something far older, something incredibly dangerous. With a shock, I recognized him as the boy on the horse, who had watched me through the forest that day. Why was he here now, in my house? How did he even get in? I toyed with the idea of confronting him, knowing this was all a dream, when I noticed something else, something that made my blood run cold. Thick, raven-wing hair tumbled to his shoulders, not quite covering the delicate, pointed ears.

He wasnât human. He was one of them, one of the fey. Standing in my house, in my brotherâs bedroom. I shuddered and began to ease back down the hall.

He turned then, looking right through me, and I wouldâve gasped if I had the breath. He was gorgeous. More than gorgeous, he was beautiful. Regal beautiful, prince-of-a-foreign-nation beautiful. If he walked into my classroom during finals, students and teachers alike would be throwing themselves at his feet. Still, it was a cold, hard beauty, like that of a marble statue, inhuman and otherworldly. His slanted eyes, beneath long, jagged bangs, glimmered like chips of steel.

The changeling was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear faint noises coming from beneath the bed, the thud of a rapidly beating heart. The fey boy didnât seem to notice. He turned and placed one pale hand on the closet door, running his fingers down the faded wood. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

In one smooth motion, he pushed the door open and walked through. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and he was gone.

Warily, I edged toward the closet door, keeping a careful eye on the space beneath the bed. I still heard muffled heartbeats, but nothing reached out to grab at me. I crossed the room without incident. As quietly as I could, I grasped the closet doorknob, turned it, and pulled the door open.

âMy closet!â shrieked the bowler hat man, leaping out at me. âMine!â

I SCREAMED AND JERKED myself awake.

For a moment, I glared wildly around the room, not knowing where I was. My heart pounded, and a cold sweat made my forehead clammy and slick. Scenes from a vivid nightmare danced across my mind: Ethan attacking me, Robbie making books fly around the room, a portal opening to an eerie new world.

A loud snore caught my attention, and I turned. Puck was sprawled out on the couch across from me, one arm flung over his eyes, his torso wrapped in a squirrel blanket.

My heart sank as the memories came flooding back. This wasnât a nightmare. I hadnât been dreaming this. Ethan was gone; a monster had replaced him. Robbie was a faery. And I was in the middle of the Nevernever searching for my brother, though I had no idea where to look, and no real hope of finding him.

I lay back, shivering. It was dark in Twiggsâs home; the fireflies or whatever they were had stopped blinking and were now clinging to the walls, apparently asleep. The only light came from a flickering orange glow outside the window. Maybe Twiggs had the porch light on or something.

I bolted upright. That glow was actually candlelight, and above it, a face was peering into the room from outside. I opened my mouth to yell for Puck, when those blue eyes turned to me, and a face I knew all too well backed away into the night.

Ethan.

I SCRAMBLED OUT OF BED and sprinted across the floor, not bothering to put on my shoes. Puck snorted and shifted under his mound of furs, but I ignored him. Ethan was out there! If I could get to him, we could go home and forget this mess ever existed.

I yanked on the door and stepped out, scanning the woods for my brother. Only later did it occur to me that I was normal-size again, and that the door was still only a foot tall. All I could think about was Ethan and getting him home, getting us both home.

Darkness greeted me, but up ahead, I saw a flickering orange glow bouncing along, getting steadily farther away. âEthan!â I called, my voice echoing into the stillness. âEthan, wait!â

I started to run, my bare feet slapping against leaves and branches, slipping on rocks and mud. My toe hit something sharp, and it shouldâve hurt, but my mind didnât register the pain. I could see him up ahead, a small figure making his way through the trees, holding a candle out before him. I ran as fast as I could, branches scraping my skin and tearing at my hair and clothes, but it seemed he was always the same distance away.

Then he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, smiling. The flickering candlelight cast his features in an eerie glow. I put on a burst of speed, and was just a few feet away when the ground suddenly dropped away from me. With a shriek, I plummeted like a stone, landing with a splash in icy water that closed over my head, flooding my nose and mouth.

Gasping, I floundered to the surface, my face stinging and my limbs already numb. Above me, a giggle rang out, and a glowing ball of light hovered overhead. It dangled there a moment, as if enjoying my humiliation, then sped away into the trees, high-pitched laughter echoing behind it.

Treading water, I gazed around. A muddy bank rose above me, slick and treacherous. There were several old trees growing out over the water, but their branches were too high for me to reach. I tried finding handholds in the bank to pull myself out, but my feet slipped in the mud, and the plants I grabbed came loose from the soil, dumping me into the lake with a noisy splash. Iâd have to find another way out.

And then I heard another splash, farther out, and knew I wasnât alone.

Moonlight shone upon the water, painting everything in a relief of silver and black. Except for the buzzing of insects, the night was very still. On the far side of the lake, fireflies danced and whirled above the surface, some glowing pink and blue instead of yellow. Maybe Iâd only imagined Iâd heard a noise. Nothing seemed to be moving except for an old log drifting toward me.

I blinked and looked again. That log suddenly looked a lot like the top half of a horseâs head, if a horse could swim like an alligator. And then I saw the dead white eyes, the thin shiny teeth, and panic rose up in me like a black tide.

âPuck!â I screamed, scrabbling at the bank. Mud tore loose in clumps; Iâd find a handhold only to slip back again. I could feel the thing draw closer. âPuck, help me!â

I looked over my shoulder. The horse thing was only a few feet away, raising its neck out of the water to expose a mouthful of needlelike teeth. Oh, God, Iâm going to die! That thing is going to eat me! Somebody, help! I clawed frantically at the bankâand felt a solid branch under my fingers. Grasping it, I yanked with all my strength, and felt the branch lift me out of the water, just as the horse monster lunged with a roar. Its wet, rubbery nose hit the bottom of my foot, jaws snapping with an evil snick. Then the branch flung me, gasping and crying, to the bank, and the horse thing sank below the surface once more.

Puck found me minutes later, curled into a ball several yards from the bank, wet to the skin and shaking like a leaf. His eyes were a mix of sympathy and exasperation as he pulled me upright.

âAre you all right?â He ran his hands up my arms, making sure I was still in one piece. âStill in there, princess? Talk to me.â

I nodded, shivering. âI saw â¦ Ethan,â I stammered, trying to make sense of it all. âI followed him, but he turned into a light and flew away, and then this horse thing tried to eat meâ¦.â I trailed off. âThat wasnât Ethan, was it? That was just another faery, playing with my emotions. And I fell for it.â

Puck sighed and led me back down the trail. âYeah,â he muttered, glancing back at me. âWisps are like that, making you see what you want to see, before leading you off the path. Though, that one seemed particularly spiteful, leading you right to a kelpieâs pond. I suppose I could tell you never to go off alone, but I think itâd be a waste of breath. Oh, what the hell.â He stopped and whirled around, stopping me in my tracks. âDonât go off alone, princess. Under any circumstances, understand? In this world, youâre viewed as either a plaything or a light snack. Donât forget that.â

âYeah,â I muttered. âYeah, I get that now.â

We continued down the trail. The door in the knobby tree was gone, but my sneakers and backpack lay outside, a clear sign our welcome was over. Shivering, I slipped the shoes over my bloody feet, hating this world and everything in it, wanting only to go home.

âWell,â Puck said too cheerfully, âif youâre done playing with will-oâ-the-wisps and kelpies, I think we should continue. Oh, but do tell me the next time you want to have tea with an ogre. Iâll be sure to bring my club.â

I shot him a poisonous glare. He only grinned. Above us, the sky was lightening into that eerie gray twilight, silent and still as death, as we ventured deeper into the Nevernever.

CHAPTER SIX

The Wild Hunt

We hadnât gone far when we came upon the patch of death in the middle of the forest.

The wyldwood was an eerie, quiet place, but it was still alive. Trees stood ancient and tall, plants bloomed, and splashes of vibrant color pierced the grayness, indicating life. Animals slipped through the trees, and strange creatures moved about in the shadows; you never got a clear view of them, but you knew they were there. You could feel them watching you.

Then, all of a sudden, the trees dropped away, and we stood at the edge of a barren clearing.

What little grass remained was yellow and dying, sparse patches of vegetation in the rocky ground. A few trees were scattered here and there, but they were withered, twisted things, empty of leaves and blackened. From a distance, the branches glinted, jagged and sharp, like weird metal sculptures. The hot wind smelled of copper and dust.

Puck stared at the dead forest for a long time. âTwiggs was right,â he muttered, staring at a withered tree. He made as if to touch one of the branches, but withdrew his hand with a shudder. âThis isnât natural. Something is poisoning the wyldwood.â

I reached up to touch one of the glittering branches, and jerked back with a gasp. âOuch!â

Puck whirled on me. âWhat?â

I showed him my hand. Blood welled from a slice in my finger, thin as a paper cut. âThe tree. It cut me.â

Puck examined my finger and frowned. âMetallic trees,â he mused, pulling a hankie from his pocket and wrapping it around my finger. âThatâs new. If you see any steel dryads, be sure to tell me so I can run away screaming.â

I scowled and looked back at the tree. A single drop of blood glistened on the offending branch before dropping to the cracked earth. The twigs gleamed along their edges, as if honed to fine blades.

âOberon must know about this,â Puck muttered, crouching to examine a circle of dry grass. âTwiggs said it was spreading, but where is it coming from?â He rose quickly and swayed on his feet, putting out a hand to steady himself. I grabbed his arm.

âAre you all right?â I asked.

âIâm fine, princess.â He nodded and gave me a pained smile. âA little perturbed about the state of my home, but what can you do?â He coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, as if he smelled something foul. âBut this air is making me sick. Letâs get out of here.â

I sniffed, but smelled nothing bad, just dirt and the sharp tang of something metallic, like rust. But Puck was already leaving, his brow furrowed in anger or pain, and I hurried to catch up.

THE HOWLING BEGAN a few hours later.

Puck stopped in the middle of the trail, so abruptly that I nearly ran into him. He held up a hand, silencing me, before I could ask what was going on.

I heard it then, drifting over the breeze, a chorus of chilling bays and howls echoing behind us. My heart revved up, and I inched closer to my companion.

âWhat is that?â

âA hunt,â Puck replied, looking off into the distance. He grimaced. âYou know, I was just thinking we needed to be run down like rabbits and torn apart. My day just isnât complete without something trying to kill me.â

I grew cold. âSomethingâs after us?â

âYouâve never seen a wild hunt, have you.â Puck groaned, running his fingers through his hair. âDamn. Well, this will complicate things. I was hoping to give you the grand tour of the Nevernever, princess, but I guess Iâll have to put it on hold.â

The baying grew closer, deep, throaty howls. Whatever was coming at us, it was big. âShouldnât we run?â I whispered.

âYouâll never be able to outrun them,â Puck said, backing away. âTheyâve got our scent now, and no mortal has ever escaped a wild hunt.â He sighed and dramatically flung his arm over his eyes. âI guess the sacrifice of my dignity is the only thing that will save us now. The things I endure for love. The Fates laugh at my torment.â

âWhat are you talking about?â

Puck smiled his eerie little grin and began to change.

His face stretched out, becoming longer and narrower, as his neck began to grow. His arms spasmed, fingers turning black and fusing into hooves. He arched his back, spine expanding, as his legs became hindquarters bunched with muscle. Fur covered his skin as he dropped to all fours, no longer a boy but a sleek gray horse with a shaggy mane and tail. The transformation had taken less than ten seconds.

I backed up, remembering my encounter with the thing in the water, but the dappled horse stamped its foreleg and swished its tail impatiently. I saw its eyes, shining like emeralds through the dangling forelocks, and my fear abated somewhat.

The howling was very close now, growing more and more frenzied. I ran to horse-Puck and threw myself on his back, grabbing his mane to heave myself up. Despite living on a farm, Iâd only been on horseback once or twice, and it took me a couple of tries to get up. Puck snorted and tossed his head, annoyed with my lack of equestrian skills.

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