.18.

LIKE A PIECE OF NIGHT

That evening, Quicksilver pretended to sleep while Olli and his coven set up camp at the base of a wooded ridge. Tomorrow they would arrive in Farrowtown, a village on the border between the kingdoms of Lalunet and Belrike. There Olli hoped to convince more witches to join the coven.

“And how will you do that?” Quicksilver had asked, after a grueling practice of cloaking Fox, and then shifting him into ever smaller animals—a cat, a black rat, a moth—so that he might creep into tight spaces unseen. The difficult maneuvers left them both cranky and with nasty headaches.

Olli had shrugged. “I’ll tell them the truth—that it’s safer to travel in a group. That being suspicious of other witches is a tired tradition that will end up being our ruin. And,” he had concluded with a grin, “that we throw marvelously fun dinner parties. As you now know. Here,” he had said, tossing her an apple. “Eat something. It’ll help the headache.”

Quicksilver had taken a huge bite of the apple, and then given a piece to Fox, who made a sound like a purr. Then he became a cat and griped at Quicksilver for shifting him.

It had been a long day.

Now, they were all asleep. Quicksilver waited until she heard everyone’s breathing level off and steady snores begin.

It’s time, she told Fox.

“It’s time,” she whispered to Sly Boots.

While Sly Boots gently awoke Anastazia, Quicksilver crept past the sleeping coven and their monsters, her body and her footsteps both cloaked by Fox. She nudged purses loose from packs and coppers loose from pockets. At times it felt as though she were guiding Fox; at other times, it felt as if he was leading her down a path only he could see. He pushed, she pulled, and then the opposite.

Soon, the pouches in Quicksilver’s pack were full. She hurried back to Sly Boots, her hands full of coins, and filled his pockets. Then they fled the camp.

“You were so fast!” Sly Boots whispered gleefully, helping Anastazia through the dark cow field. “How much did you get? My pockets feel like they’re full of bricks! Oh, think of the medicine this will buy!”

“I didn’t stop to count.” Quicksilver adjusted the now-heavy pack on her back. “Stop talking!”

Anastazia glanced sidelong at Quicksilver, her expression decidedly stern.

“What?” Quicksilver whispered. “You didn’t like them. What does it matter if I steal from them? This will help us as we search for the you-know-whats! We can pay people to give us information! We can buy food!”

“I only wish you’d told me the plan,” said Anastazia. “I woke up and had no clue what was going on.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you sleep for twelve hours and belch at us when we try to wake you.” Quicksilver paused. “Fox?”

Fox, in his dog form, had stopped and turned back to face camp, his ears pricked and his tail standing out straight.

“Something’s wrong,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean? Are they following us?”

“No—”

I hear something happening, he thought to Quicksilver, but I don’t understand what it is.

“Wait here,” said Quicksilver.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” Sly Boots whispered after her. “What’s going on?”

“Quicksilver!” hissed Anastazia.

Quicksilver and Fox slipped back through the tall grass, keeping low to the ground. Sounds floated to them through the woods—screams, and a low, rumbling roar. When they reached the ridge that overlooked the camp and peeked through the undergrowth, Quicksilver could hardly believe what she was seeing.

A great hulking figure as tall as a three-story house lumbered through the camp, scooping up the witches—and their monsters—as though they were nothing but toys. The creature was dark, like a piece of night cut away from the sky. Its arms were as thick as boulders, its legs twice as large as that. On its tiny pin of a head glowed two round white eyes.

Caught unawares and still half asleep, the coven did not stand a chance. Two witches ran away into the darkness with their monsters, as fast as they could, not even bothering to help the others fight. Quicksilver watched in awe as Olli sent his owl monster soaring at the creature like an arrow from a bow. The owl became a bolt of lightning, vital and sizzling. When it hit the boulder creature, the creature stumbled and roared in pain—but the owl flew crookedly back to Olli’s shoulder with a hurt wing. The creature couldn’t repel magic, then. But it would certainly take more magic than that to fell it.

With a high peal of laughter, the creature scooped up Olli and his monster, crammed them into a tremendous sack with the rest of the coven, flung the sack over its shoulder, and lumbered off into the woods.