Foxheart (23 page)

The roots beneath them creaked and quaked. An angry, distant cry sounded from the world below.

Fox nudged her.
We should go!

Quicksilver scooped up the glowing mouse bones and poured them carefully into the proper pouch in her pack.

Then she shoved the heart jewel at Sly Boots. She could not look at him; she
would not
look at him. It was unbearable to see him standing there, alive and healthy, when only moments ago he had been cold and blue on the Lady's lap.

“That's for you to keep, by the way,” she snapped. “The Lady said. I think she liked you, though I can't imagine why. Don't let anything happen to it, or I'll pound your face in. Now come on, before the unicorns eat us.”

Sly Boots stared at her, slipping the heart jewel's chain around his neck.
“Unicorns?”

But Quicksilver had already turned away to climb down the mountain of roots. Tears stung her eyes, and she did not understand them.

He is
not
my love, Fox. That Lady didn't know anything. Witches and thieves do not love. Not boys. Not older selves. Not even monsters, Fox. Not anyone.

I know
.
I expect you're just tired, to feel this way.

“That's right, I'm tired,” muttered Quicksilver, and she ignored Sly Boots completely as the unicorns' furious screams chased them back into the friendlier part of the forest.

A
nastazia was furious and pacing.

“Where have you been?” she yelled. She stalked across the little clearing where they'd made camp the night before and crushed Quicksilver into a ferocious hug. Then she pulled away, saw the dried blood on Quicksilver's hands, and scowled. She inspected Sly Boots, who still had a dazed look about him, and her scowl became more terrible. She resumed pacing.

“I found myself sitting here with my journal. . . .” Anastazia gestured, the journal's pages flapping. “Completely alone, no note, no
anything
. Hours pass by. Day turns to night. And then,
finally
, you show up—with
blood
all over you?”Anastazia put her hands on her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself, Quicksilver?”

Quicksilver was so relieved to see Anastazia back to normal, clear-eyed and clearheaded, that she simply grinned and held up her pack.

“We found the third skeleton,” she announced.

Anastazia stared at the battered bag. “You did?”

“Yes, and it's a mouse,” said Fox proudly, bumping his nose against Quicksilver's leg. “Just as we thought.”

A slow, crooked grin spread across Anastazia's face. “How? Where?”

“Well,” said Quicksilver with a sigh. “It's . . . complicated.”

Then she told Anastazia everything. About the Lady, and the unicorns, and the tiny white tree. As she spoke, she kept glancing over at Sly Boots, wondering if he would add to the story—but he didn't. He toyed with the long, sharp clasp of the Lady's heart jewel and gazed out into the forest.

She waited for him to thank her for saving him. She waited for him to tell her that he had heard what the Lady had said, and wasn't it funny, the idea that he could be Quicksilver's love? They would make faces and joke about it, and perhaps
then they would slap hands and forget about the last several days.

But this did not happen.

So Quicksilver ignored him.

“You entered unicorn country,” Anastazia said, “and you survived. I'm sorry, child.”

“Sorry? Why?”

Anastazia shook her head, staring at the ground. When she looked up, her eyes were bright, her smile wobbly. “I'm so proud of you. Even though I'm a shabby, broken old woman, and you're having to take care of me . . . even so, you're still doing marvelously. Better than I ever did when I was a young Quicksilver, having to put up with my shabby old Anastazia.”

Quicksilver grabbed Anastazia's outstretched hand, feeling a rush of tiredness that left her shaky and weak. Maybe, with Anastazia looking and talking so well, Quicksilver could lie down and let someone else do things for a change. She only wanted to rest for a while, clean the blood from her hands, let Fox worry about the monster skeletons chattering away in her pack. . . .

Sly Boots cleared his throat. “So, what will we do next?”

Quicksilver watched Sly Boots worry the Lady's jewel between his fingers. “We'll rest,” she replied. “It's night, I've just
fought a whole pack of bloodthirsty unicorns, and I'm tired.”

“In the morning, you and Fox should sort through more of the Wolf King's memories,” said Anastazia. “The more quickly we move, the better. The more skeletons we gather, the easier it will be to find the rest. The seven of them want to be together, you know. The First Ones were made out of the same ancient star, so the pieces of them are drawn to one another—”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Quicksilver yawned. “We know all of that.”

“I would like it,” said Sly Boots evenly, “if we found a town where you could steal some more medicine for me.”

Fox, who had curled up in a pile of moss, lifted his head. “Oh, indeed? That's what you would like, is it?”

Sly Boots, staring impassively at Quicksilver, ignored Fox. She tried to match her tone to the strange coolness of his face.

“We'll find a place eventually, Boots,” she said. “And then of course we'll stop. Until then, what do you want me to do? Make a town out of thin air?”

Sly Boots's expression did not change, but it felt to Quicksilver that something dark had been drawn over his eyes.

Anastazia flung her journal onto the forest floor. “I'm hungry! I don't want to walk anymore, and you can't make me.”

Quicksilver's heart flipped and fell.

Sly Boots smiled, a cold, slight thing that hardly moved his face. “No matter what you do next, I suggest you leave the old woman behind. She's a problem, and she's only getting worse. When she fades, she'll drag you down with her.”

Fox jumped to his feet and growled.

Anger lashed against Quicksilver's ribs, swift and searing. How could he say such a thing? How could he hold himself so carelessly, and smile as though this was all some sort of pathetic joke?

“Or perhaps I should have left
you
behind!” she cried. “In the Rompus's lair, or at that princess's ridiculous birthday party, or back there”—she flung her arm behind them—“half dead in the Lady's arms!”

“Don't be a fool.” Sly Boots sighed, clearly bored. “You wouldn't have done that.”

Quicksilver thought of watching the stars with Sly Boots, and eating stolen cakes with him on the roof of the curiosity shop, and she felt such disgust at her past self that she could hardly see straight. “I should have! I'd be better off without you!”

“How dare you treat me this way, when all of this is your fault?” Sly Boots snapped. “You forced me to come here. You took me away from my home.” Even though he hadn't moved, he seemed to suddenly loom closer. The strange light returned to his
eyes. “You, witch, are made of poison, and so is your entire kind.”

Fox darted between them, his lips curled back to reveal his teeth.

“I found it!” Anastazia cried, digging in the dirt. “The secret message you left for me!” She squinted at the ground. “Is it something about meat pie?”

Quicksilver thrust up her chin and marched toward Sly Boots. She would not let him see how thoroughly he was frightening her.

“If you hate me so much,” she said, “then why don't you leave and go fend for yourself? Go on! I'd like to see you try it.”

Sly Boots glared at her for a long moment. “I don't think so, witch. You owe me a debt, and I'm not leaving until you pay it.”

Then he settled himself on the ground at the base of a hunched tree marked with bulbous growths, folded his hands in his lap, and stared at her.

Quicksilver lay down in the grass and scooted close to Anastazia, hiding her face in her older self's cloak. She did not trust herself to say anything more; her exhaustion was too complete, her throat tight and aching. Even with Fox standing guard, and Anastazia absently stroking her palm, it took Quicksilver a long time to fall asleep, and her dreams were full of boys with flames where their eyes should have been.

The next morning, Quicksilver awoke to find that Sly Boots had already gathered breakfast.

“Wake up, fellow travelers!” Sly Boots nudged Quicksilver's foot with his own. Morning sun peeked through the trees overhead, casting his face in shadow. “It's time to eat!”

“Pie?” mumbled Anastazia hopefully.

“Even better—figs! Roots! Blackberries!”

Anastazia rolled over. “More forest food,” she grumbled.

Quicksilver sat up, instantly suspicious. “Why are you so happy this morning?”

“I thought about everything a lot while you slept. Couldn't sleep a wink! I kept thinking and thinking. The forest is so quiet at night. Lots of room for thoughts.” As he spoke, Sly Boots paced through the surrounding trees, his gaze flitting around wildly.

Something's odd about him this morning, Quicksilver.
Fox scratched his ear.
He sat there all night, not moving, hardly even blinking.

Quicksilver munched on a handful of berries.
I don't care, as long as he stays like this. He almost looks like his old self again.

Hmm.
Fox ignored his own berries and put his snout on his paws, watching Sly Boots carefully.

After breakfast, Sly Boots urged them to their feet. “Come on, there's more where that came from!” He gazed north, his hands on his hips. “I figure we should stock up, gather as much as we can carry. That way we don't have to stop again for a long time! Searching for a market could take us far out of our way. We have to keep pressing on, right? Find all those bones?”

Quicksilver slipped on her pack, clucking her tongue at the fussing skeletons. “Well, yes, but we haven't figured out where to go yet—”

“Come on, slowpokes!” Sly Boots cried, hurrying off into the trees.

“Wait! Boots!” Quicksilver jumped to her feet. “Fox, go after him! He'll get lost!”

I say we let him wander around until he falls off a cliff.

Fox—

Fine, fine.
Fox bounded away into the forest after Sly Boots.

Anastazia spat out a half-chewed date. “I hate this sort of pie. It tastes nothing like it should.”

Quicksilver tugged Anastazia to her feet, an anxious feeling spiraling in her chest. She squinted into the trees, looking for Fox's yellow tail among the moss and shadows.

Suddenly, everything felt wrong. Too quiet, too still.

Something's wrong, Quicksilver.

What is it, Fox?

I'm not sure—

Quicksilver shoved Anastazia forward. “Come on, hurry—”

“Stop
bullying
me!” Anastazia shook her free, scowling.

Quicksilver grabbed hold of her again, pulling her on. “We don't have time to dawdle. Come on, pick up your feet!” She helped Anastazia climb over a fallen tree and called into the forest, “Fox? Boots? Where did you go?”

Sly Boots shouted back, but his voice was so faint she couldn't make out the words.

Then the dull, buzzing worry of Fox's thoughts became a sharp stab of fear. He jumped out of the undergrowth to slide in front of her.

Wait, Quicksilver, no—!

But it was too late. Quicksilver had already emerged into a small clearing, where the air was fresh and cool—and the Wolf King stood smiling, his hands behind his back. Two long, twisting shadows hovered over his shoulders like curls of smoke.

Beside the Wolf King was the white wolf. It had pinned Sly Boots to the ground, and it flashed Quicksilver a shining canine grin.

“G
ive the skeletons to me, witch,” said the Wolf King, seven deep and booming voices growling all at once, “and perhaps I'll let him go.”

Time moved slowly. Quicksilver noticed everything in excruciating detail—the Wolf King's fine dark cloak, his high collar of chain and leather, his black hair, his gathered red sleeves tied with tasseled cords. The shadows beneath his eyes, and how they made him look not tired, but older and formidable.

The other six wolves emerged from the trees, surrounding them. Quicksilver's skin tingled with icy waves of fear.

Quicksilver,
Fox thought urgently,
I can get us out of here. Let's go, now, while we still can.

“I'm sorry, Quicksilver,” Sly Boots choked out. “He told me he would get me home, he said he could heal my parents—”

With a savage growl, the white wolf snapped its jaws, only a hair away from Sly Boots's scrunched-up face.

Anastazia's hand tightened around Quicksilver's arm. “Stars help us . . .”

“Ah!” The Wolf King's haughty smile widened. “The old woman is herself again—but not for long, I'd wager. My curses have been eating her alive for years, but now she looks worse than ever.” His cruel gaze flicked to Quicksilver. “You're obviously taking
wonderful
care of her.”

The bile rose in Quicksilver's throat at the sound of his laughter. It was high, careless, like a child's.

“Run, Quicksilver, and don't look back,” Anastazia commanded.

The skeletons in Quicksilver's pack shrieked. They slammed into Quicksilver's shoulders, straining toward the Wolf King.

Beside her, Fox shimmered into a growling dog double his normal size.
Say the word, Quicksilver, and I'll get you out of here.

Anastazia gripped her shoulder, pushing her back toward the forest. “Go, child,
go
!”

But Sly Boots's eyes were wide with terror, and they held Quicksilver in place. She could think of nothing else but her fear for him, how close the white wolf's fangs were to his throat.

She tore off her thrashing pack and flung it at the Wolf King.

Anastazia and Fox cried, “No!”

“Now let him go!” Quicksilver demanded, immediately understanding how foolish she had been, how rash. She clenched her fists.

The Wolf King laughed. “Oh, yes? Or what? You didn't think that through very well, did you?” He picked up the pack, and the two shadows hovering over his shoulders swooped down and circled around him. They appeared almost human shaped now, long and stretched out. They caressed the pack with thin, smoky fingers.

Suddenly the Wolf King's stolen memories lit up like the sun in Quicksilver's mind, and she and Fox understood what they were seeing at the same horrible moment:

Those two shadows were First Ones—not returned fully to their human forms, not yet. But someday, when all seven
monster skeletons had been reunited, they would be.

Those shadows were with him when he attacked the coven, Quicksilver.

Quicksilver felt sick.
He already had two of the monster skeletons that day. And now, thanks to me . . .

He has five.

The shadows already looked more solid, more alive. Dark eyes and sharp cheekbones unfurled across their faces. Their smiling mouths filled with teeth. They cradled the pack of monsters between them like a newborn.

“Brothers,”
one crooned.

“Sister,”
cooed the other.

The pack seemed to shudder, and so did the Wolf King. His body jerked and shook, and his mouth opened wide, too wide, his jaw cracking. Three new shadows, wispy and pale, unfurled from the Wolf King's mouth. Five shadows, pale and dark, now swirled around the Wolf King. They screeched and jeered, their cries thunderous.

Five skeletons.
Fox growled, his body shaking with anger.
And five First Ones.

The clearing turned still and cold. Quicksilver could hardly breathe for her fear.

“What have you done?” rasped Anastazia. She shook Quicksilver. “What have you
done
?”

“Oh, give it up, old woman,” the Wolf King drawled, his face pale and slightly green, his chest heaving. What did it feel like, Quicksilver wondered, to have long-dead spirits crawl out of your mouth?

“You've lost,” said the Wolf King. “It was only a matter of time.” Then he snapped his fingers, and the white wolf released Sly Boots.

And Sly Boots scurried to the Wolf King on his hands and knees, and knelt, his head bowed.

The Wolf King smiled at him. “Thank you, boy. Your loyalty will be rewarded.”

“You traitor,” Anastazia spat. “You weak, unforgivable boy!”

Anastazia lunged, throwing herself toward the Wolf King with nothing but her two frail hands as weapons.

The Wolf King flicked his wrist. The white wolf flew toward Anastazia, an arc of blazing flame, and slammed her into the ground. It raked its claws across her chest, sending up sprays of blood.

Quicksilver screamed.
Fox, can you get us out of here?

At once!
Fox bolted toward Anastazia, a streak of gold, and
Quicksilver raced alongside him, pumping her legs as fast as she could. She threw herself over Anastazia's bloodied body like a shield and held on tight. As Fox wrapped around them in a swirl of light, Quicksilver glanced one last time at Sly Boots, hoping, hoping . . .

But his smile was an echo of the Wolf King's, smug and sleek. Whatever had happened to him, he was now surely lost.

And so were they.

All this time, Anastazia had been warning Quicksilver about the danger of trusting other witches, and the true danger had been right in front of them.

The wolves attacked, raging and fiery. Quicksilver shut her eyes against them. She meant to concentrate on her connection with Fox, and help him disappear them away to safety—but all she could focus on was the heavy, sinking feeling of betrayal. Sly Boots had
betrayed
them. They had lost the skeletons. Now the Wolf King had five. Anastazia was hurt. Everything—all of it—had been for nothing.

The best thief in all the Star Lands? Pah.

I am the most complete fool in all the Star Lands,
Quicksilver thought. Her limbs turned to stone. Her heart became a block of ice. She couldn't move, and she didn't want to. It was nice,
feeling so heavy and cold. She pictured herself sinking to the bottom of a black, icy lake. She would lie there, frozen and alone, for all eternity, staring up through the frigid water at the cruel world above. She would be safe there. It would be quiet and still, beneath the water, where no one could ever hurt her. . . .

Master!
Fox cried.
Stop! Something's wrong!

Of course it was. Everything was wrong.
She
was wrong.

They passed through a cold veil—not cold like winter, but cold like nothingness. On the other side of the veil, a harsh wind was blowing. Fox released them, and Quicksilver fell onto gray, rocky ground.

“Well,” said Fox, “now you've done it.”

When Quicksilver looked up, she saw a sky, a forest, and distant mountains—and all of them were made of shadows.