I left the office without another word to Officer Sanchez. Outside, the wind picked up. Large thunderheads loomed and lighting sparked through the towering clouds.
Yellow police tape blocked the park’s entrances, and news crew vans waited amongst a gaggle of police vehicles in the parking lot. Other than that, the place was empty. Fairgoers had been turned away pending the investigation.
The Ren Fair was losing money because of this—I only hoped they didn’t blame me. I ducked under the police tape and made my way toward the campgrounds.
Gravel turned to grass as I left the parking area and passed campsites. Not many people were outside. Maybe they were dodging the approaching storm, or maybe they’d left altogether.
My insides knotted as I approached the yellow-and-white tent.
Voices came from inside, and I paused before entering. This all felt so surreal. My life had been dull and depressing for the last ten months, but at least it had been predictable. And easy. I hadn’t made any quests or felt the pressure of saving anyone. No one had begged me to save the world. I’d avoided both foreboding prophecies and tyrants trying to kill me.
But now it was changing again, and I didn’t like it. I needed to ask Prince Terminus what else he knew about the bloodthorn—whether it could have possibly killed Mr. Duncan—and if he knew about the strange purple flowers I’d found in Mr. Duncan’s eye sockets. If I didn’t find out soon, I could be sitting in jail in the near future.
Mustering my courage, I entered the tent.
The inside of the tent looked different. For one, it was filled with people. Prince Terminus and Esmelda stood in the center, surrounded by three Wults whom I recognized.
My heart gave a nervous flutter as Brodnik, Rolf, and Heidel turned to face me. All three wore silver leaf pendants. Memory charms, perhaps? Thankfully, I saw no sign of Kull.
Good.
Brodnik looked as I remembered, with his large belly and rust-colored beard. He was Viking in all sense of the word, and he didn’t have any trouble letting you know it.
Rolf had finally grown his beard and looked much older than when I’d seen him last. The boyishness was gone from his eyes. Instead, he stood tall as he held a spear at his side.
So, it had been actual Wults I’d seen yesterday and not just my imagination. Praise be! Perhaps I still had a little sanity left in me.
Heidel, Kull’s sister, had also changed, although I had trouble discerning how. Her appearance hadn’t changed. She still wore the silver breastplate and arm guards around her wrists and arms. Her dark hair was still long, and she still wore it in a braid slung over her shoulder. Her fair complexion, her dark gray eyes—all the same. But when I noticed her weapon, I finally discovered how she’d changed. She no longer carried the goblin blade. Instead, she held a short silver sword, crafted in the typical Viking way with a thick metal pommel and wide blade.
“Oy, Olive!” Brodnik bellowed as he made his way toward me. “It’s about time you showed up.” He grabbed me in a tight hug, which caught me off guard.
Rolf and Heidel also clapped me hard on my shoulders.
“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” I said as they backed away.
“Aye,” Brodnik answered. “Rolf and I arrived days ago to scout the area for the fairies. We would have greeted you sooner but thought it best to wait.”
“How are you?” Rolf asked.
“I’m doing well,” I answered.
“You are?” he said, surprised.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, I thought maybe… after what happened in Faythander… you would be disheartened.”
“Why would I be disheartened, Rolf?” The kid had a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth. Looked like he hadn’t changed quite as much as I’d thought.
“You aren’t lonely? You know, without…”
I crossed my arms, ready to give the boy a piece of my mind, when Heidel spoke up.
“I am certain she has no reason at all to be disheartened about anything, or especially anyone. Am I right, Olive?”
I threw Heidel a grateful look. “Yes, you’re right. To be honest, I’ve enjoyed my solitude.”
“You’re sure about that?” Rolf asked.
“Positive.”
Prince Terminus walked forward. “It is good that you have returned, Olive. We’ve much to discuss. My sister and I have prepared a noonday meal. Will you join us?”
“Yes, of course.”
The three Wults and I followed the fairies through the tent. The room arrangements had changed from how I’d seen them earlier. The vines had branched out to create a larger space. A round table made of a huge mushroom cap took up the center of the room, and seven chairs, made of vines that hung from the ceiling, surrounded the table.
Deep red roses and bright blue hydrangeas sprouted from the vines, giving the room an otherworldly ambiance. As we sat, food appeared at the table. Fluffy loaves of warm bread, bunches of grapes, honeydew melons, lemon cakes in the shapes of daffodils, candied fruits, and, of course, teacups filled with steaming dark liquid.
The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the room. Esmelda arranged the food on platters that were made of woven leaves and then passed the plates around. Beside me was an empty seat, and I had a good idea of who was supposed to be in it. I almost inquired after him but held my tongue.
The Wults fumbled with the food, their hands dwarfing the dainty teacups.
Rolf’s face wrinkled with disgust as he tasted a flower cake. “Olive,” he asked casually as he set his cake aside, “were any of the booths open today, particularly those that were selling—what were they called—the turkey legs?”
“The grounds were still closed when I left, but I’m sure they’ll reopen soon.”
“Let’s hope they do,” Brodnik answered.
I turned to Terminus. “Have you had any luck finding the starstone?”
“Yes,” he said and nodded to his sister. “Esmelda has discovered something interesting about her ring.”
She removed her rose-shaped ring and passed it to me. As I took it from her, I noticed that the rose jewel now glowed red.
“Why is it glowing?” I asked.
“It is because we are now in closer proximity to the larger stone,” Prince Terminus said. “On Faythander, if the one wearing the ring ever left our village, the color would fade and only become bright again once the wearer returned. Something similar may be occurring here—which means that whoever has the stone is close by.”
“How close?”
“In Earth terms, I would estimate fifty miles at the most.”
“Fifty miles? So either our thief is here at the festival or roaming through the Houston suburbs. Can you narrow it down more than that?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Brodnik sat up straight. “We’ve still yet to discuss who has this fairy stone. I don’t know who I should be searching for—and I don’t like being kept in the dark when I’m expected to track someone down. Tell us, Terminus, who are we tracking?”
Terminus shifted nervously. He still hadn’t told his sister his theory about the bloodthorn, and I wasn’t sure if he’d ever meant to tell her. “We are not sure—”
“Brother,” Esmelda interrupted, “do not spare us from the truth on my account. I’ve heard the rumors just as well as you. I know what monster we are searching for.”
“Monster?” Rolf asked. “No one told us it was a monster who took the stone.”
“It is no ordinary monster,” Esmelda answered. “This is a cursed creature of darkness that wants only despair and gloom to fill the world. It is evil in every sense of the word. It has no regard for the welfare of anyone, mortal or fairy. My brother has tried to spare me from the truth, for which I thank him, but I know as well as he that the rumors are true. The bloodthorn has returned.”
Esmelda seemed more knowledgeable about this creature than her brother. Outside, thunder rumbled through the sky. Terminus glanced nervously overhead as raindrops began to pelt the tent’s roof.
“Sister,” he said, “you were not supposed to know of this.”
“I know more than you realize,” she answered.
“How?”
“I overheard your conversation with the fairy council. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in, but after I heard it, there was nothing I could do to change it.”
“Yet you still came with me. You weren’t too afraid?”
“Of course not! The creature frightens me, yes, but I would not let my fear stand in the way of returning the stone to its rightful place.”
“Sorry,” Heidel interrupted, “but what exactly is this beast capable of doing?”
Before the fairies could answer, the tent flap swung open and a tall, looming figure stalked inside. In the light of the fairy flowers, the shape of a man came into view. No, not a man. A king.
I swear, thunder actually boomed as he entered the room.
Of all the people who had changed since I’d seen them last, Kull won hands down. He was leaner for one thing, and his eyes were dark and shadowed. A black cloak billowed behind him, and his footsteps were heavy as he walked inside the tent.
When he got closer, I noticed his shirtsleeve was torn from shoulder to wrist. Blood dripped from a wound beneath, pooling on the ground. This wasn’t Kull. This was the king of the Wults. King Kull of the Skullsplitters.
King Skullsplitter.
The three Wults stood and then bowed with fisted hands to their chests as he approached.
Seriously? They’re bowing? Am I supposed to bow?
It didn’t matter, because he immediately turned away from us to enter the room with the black vines, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
I wasn’t even sure the man had recognized me.
“He is unwell,” Heidel said. “Brodnik, where was he?”
“Scouting the forest. Do you think he was attacked?”
“I cannot say for sure. Rolf,” she said, “go and check on him.”
“Me?”
“Yes, he likes you better than us.”
“No, he doesn’t. He treats me just as poorly as he treats the rest of you. I refuse.”
I scratched my head, wondering at the strange change in the Wults’ attitudes toward their beloved leader. When I’d been with him last, Rolf had treated Kull like a god. He would have jumped at any opportunity to help him—especially if his idol had been injured.
I scanned the blood drying on the floor. It was bright red, indicating a possible arterial wound, and the drops were the size of half-dollars, which meant he was losing a lot of blood at a fast rate.
“He hates me,” Rolf said. “Why don’t you go? You’re his sister.”
“Ha!” Heidel crossed her arms. “And end up in the dungeons again? I think not. Brodnik, it’s your turn.”
“Mine?” Brodnik said. “I’ll shave my beard and dress in women’s clothing before I’ll be the king’s nursemaid.”
“Fine,” Heidel said. “Then none of us will go. Perhaps he doesn’t need us anyway.”
“Agreed,” Brodnik answered.
Rolf nodded, and we went back to our meal.
I tried to ignore the sight of the blood on the floor but found I couldn’t stop looking at it. Assuming he’d been injured in the woods and had been bleeding out from the edge of the forest to the tent—approximately thirty yards—and he was losing about ten ounces per minute…
I shook my head. Stop thinking that way. It wouldn’t do any good to let my anxiety run wild.
“Terminus,” Heidel said, “is the bloodthorn capable of changing its shape?”
“Yes, but it is limited as to what it can emulate. Because it is a creature of complete darkness, it can only transform into other dark creatures.”
“So, it couldn’t be a human?”
“No.”
Princess Esmelda eyed her brother. “But you do not know for sure. You’ve never actually seen one of these beasts, have you?”
“My knowledge comes from the ancient scrolls, written by traveling fairies who have seen them.”
“No,” she said, “I, too, have read the scrolls, and not one fairy admits to seeing it with their own eyes. Their knowledge comes from others who claimed to have seen it.”
“What else do these scrolls say?” I asked. “Do they describe how the creature survives? Or how it kills? Or even if it kills?”
“It is not as detailed as we would like,” Terminus answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I suspect that it—or something like it—killed a man who was left in my booth last night.”
“In your booth?” the prince asked.
“Yes. I found a man’s body in my booth this morning. His corpse was wrapped in thorns, and he had purple flowers in his eye sockets. And… his eyes had been gouged out.”
“Removed completely?” Heidel asked.
I nodded.
“This sounds like the work of a phøca—a Celtic black horse—a presence that once haunted my people. It’s a shape changer that takes the form of a black horse wearing chains. It takes the eyes because it believes they are portals, and it would use them to return to its realm.”
“Strange,” I said. “Whatever this creature is—be it fairy or mortal—it’s certainly dangerous. Until we know more about it, I’m not sure how to confront it or how to take the stone from it. If it even has it to begin with. We need more information.”
I turned to Terminus. “Isn’t there anything more you can tell me? The purple flowers—could they have any significance?”
He pondered my question. “What did these flowers look like?” he asked.
“Purple, with one petal longer than the others that seemed to droop over the rest.”
He held out his hand. Magic ignited, and purple-and-silver sparkles spiraled over his palm until a flower formed. “Did it look like this?” he asked.
I studied the flower. “No. For one thing, it’s too small, and the petal on top was more pronounced.”
He knitted his brows in concentration as another flower formed, almost an exact match to the ones I’d seen in Mr. Duncan’s eyes.
“That’s it,” I said. “Do you know what it is?”
“Monkshood,” he said. “They are called this because of the petal on the top that folds down like a monk’s hood. They are extremely poisonous.”
He handed it to me.
“Do you know its meaning?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He glanced nervously at his sister.
“Are you certain you saw this flower?” Esmelda asked.
“Yes. It’s hard to mistake. It was this flower.”
“This does not bode well,” Esmelda said.
“Why?”
“Because,” Terminus said, “the meaning for monkshood is ‘beware, an evil presence is near’.”
The wind picked up outside. I stared at the flower sitting in the palm of my hand. It seemed so innocent, yet its meaning sent shivers down my spine. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a muffled voice coming from Kull’s room.
“Did you hear that?” I asked. “Should someone check on His Highness?”
“Nay,” Brodnik answered. “He’s resting.”
“He’d be angry if we woke him,” Rolf added.
Heidel raised an eyebrow. “Yet he usually can’t keep quiet to save his life, especially when he’s been injured. Why has he not made a fuss yet?”
Were they really not going to check on him? After he’d bled out all over the floor? While he was most likely passed out from blood loss?
“Her Majesty would be upset if anything happened to him,” Rolf said.
Her Majesty? Who is Her Majesty? His mother, most likely.
“He probably scratched his arm on a briar in the forest. There is no need to check on him,” Heidel answered. “Now, can we leave the subject of my brother alone and concentrate on what is more important? This is what we know of the creature so far—it has stolen the fairies’ stone and prefers removing the eyes of its victim.”
“Yes,” Prince Terminus answered, “and we know that the bloodthorn beast had reason to take our stone.”
“And,” Rolf added, “we know that the phøca removes the eyes of its victims.”
“You also said that it’s a shape changer, which means it would have an easy way of hiding its identity,” I said.
“So, which one is it?” Heidel asked. “A bloodthorn or a phøca?”
“Or none of them,” Brodnik said.
“Or a mix of the two?” Rolf added.
“I believe it was the bloodthorn who killed this man,” Esmelda said, “and I believe he did it to send us a message. He knows we are looking for him.”
“I agree,” Terminus said. “It must be the bloodthorn who did this.”
“If that is so,” Rolf said, “then how do we find him?”
“Or her,” Heidel added. “It could be in any form.”
“My ring is the key,” Esmelda said. “Whoever this creature is, he will be searching for my ring. He may not be able to activate the stone without it.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“No, it’s merely speculation on my part. However, the larger stone is not complete without my ring.”
“If that’s the case,” I said, “then the ring puts you in harm’s way. Perhaps you should hide it.”
“No,” Prince Terminus said. “There is nowhere safe. Let me wear the ring instead.”
“No, Brother. The ring was gifted to me. This is my responsibility.”
“What if I wear it?” I said. “My magic is strong enough to defend the ring if necessary.”
“Are you sure?” the princess asked.
“Yes. You can’t use your magic to cause harm, but I can. If the beast comes after me, I’ll be prepared.”
The princess hesitated, as if trying to make up her mind, and then handed the ring to me. I slipped it on my finger, feeling its weight and magic as it mingled with mine. Its presence caught me off guard. This was a raw power, alive and viscous, and very aware of me.
“Olive,” Prince Terminus said, “the ring is too dangerous for you to wear. Please, let me be its keeper. We have already burdened you enough as it is.”
“No, Brother,” the princess said. “I trust her to wear it. Besides, you cannot use your magic for defense—you know that. It is better to let her wear it.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue but held his tongue.
Glancing at the entrance to Kull’s chamber, I wondered why it was so quiet back there. At the rate he was bleeding out, he could be dead in three minutes. For goodness’ sake, why aren’t they checking on the man?
“Can’t we check on him now?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure he’s not okay.”
A smile spread across Heidel’s face, as if something had just dawned on her. “That is a perfect idea. Olive—you must go and check on him.”
“Yes, you!” the two Wults pitched in. “You must go to him, Olive.”
“Me? Why me? Why can’t one of you check on him?”
Heidel stood, grabbed my hand, pried me from my chair, and then pushed me toward Kull’s chamber.
“But… no! I wasn’t volunteering myself—I thought perhaps it should be one of you.”
“She is a healer, isn’t she?” Brodnik said to Rolf.
“Indeed. This is the only solution. Her Majesty will be pleased that we didn’t let him perish.”
“Will she?” Heidel said as she looked over her shoulder.
The two Wult men chuckled. “Perhaps she would be happier if we left him to his misfortune.”
“Yes, perhaps she would,” I answered. My hands, slick with sweat, trembled as Heidel pulled me the rest of the way to the door. I ground my teeth and dug my heels into the floor. I would not go into that room with that man. I refused.
“He… needs… your help,” Heidel grunted as she pushed me.
“No he doesn’t!”
Heidel grabbed the hanging vines that formed the door, moved them aside, and peeked through the opening.
Kull lay passed out on the floor in a large pool of his own blood. He did not move, nor did I see any signs of breathing.
He’s dead. We’re too late.