Page 19

“ M icah.” Carson’s heartbroken wail unfroze time.

The forest slammed back into focus, the bright colors burning my irises. The air was too humid and too warm. It stung as it filled my frozen lungs. I choked on reality.

Micah was gone.

Adam paced and scrubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Where did he go? What was that?” Carson picked up his wooden spoon and waved it like a sword, like he could splinter the air and make our son reappear.

“A witch, I think,” I said. Why would the witches come after me now? I’d done everything they’d asked. “I thought this was over. I thought….”

It didn’t matter what I’d thought. All that mattered was getting Micah back.

“Witches are real?” Adam’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, but no one is supposed to know,” I said. “So if a situation arises, you have to pretend you have no idea.”

He shot me a flat stare. “Like I’ve had to do my whole life about everything magical.”

Fair point.

“What are we going to do?” Carson asked. “Where would the witch take him?”

I checked my pockets for my phone. It wasn’t there. Right, I’d left it on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know much about witches,” I said. “Did you hear what she said?”

“That thing didn’t say anything,” Adam said.

Carson gave his head a small shake. That meant I’d been the only one to hear her speak.

If I wasn’t already shattered, if I let myself, his expression would crush me. I had to hold it together, for all of us. It was the thankless, unspoken job mothers had to do. I was the only one who could do anything for Micah now.

“My phone is by the stove,” I told Carson. “When you get back, call Tess.”

“We can’t go back without Micah,” Adam said.

“Do you know how to send us back?” Carson asked.

Nope. I swallowed my hesitation, along with a tiny piece of my boulder-sized worry. “I have an idea.”

“You can’t be serious,” Adam said. “You shouldn’t face that thing alone. What if it grabs you, too?”

What if the witch grabbed Adam next? Or Carson?

What if I hesitated and she took them all?

What if I was already too late to save Micah?

I took a breath and looked at Carson and Adam. I made myself meet their gazes without a glint of uncertainty.

“I can do this,” I said. “Trust me.”

I had to open the door. It was our only chance.

“Always.” Carson offered me his spoon.

I took his confidence and made it my own. I took his spoon, too. A bad weapon was still a weapon, and I needed every advantage I could get.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wished they were home safe. Something in my gut said it would work. Just to be thorough, I wished Micah appeared at home, too. That same something in my gut told me it wouldn’t work on Micah.

She would stop him from leaving. She controlled his fate now. Whoever she was.

I was losing focus. I opened my eyes.

Carson and Adam were translucent, faded from the forest, but not quite gone yet either.

“Are we…how are we back home?” Adam asked, his voice growing distant. “Mom?”

“I’ve got this,” I said. “Remember, call Tess. Tell her everything.”

Before I finished my sentence, they were already gone.

I shook out my arms and bounced from foot to foot.

I’d survived each of my encounters with the witches so far. This wouldn’t be any different. They were satisfied with my coverage of their adoption fair. All I had to do was figure out what they wanted now, and everything would be fine.

Too bad I had no idea what I was doing. Or how to stop shaking.

I reached a clammy hand for the door.

Pain. White hot.

Grabbing the handle felt like thrusting my hand inside a fiery grill and clutching one of the flaming coals.

A sound ripped out of me. I refused to let go. I turned the knob.

The door creaked open. I took a step inside before allowing myself to release the metal. I cradled my hand and tentatively looked to determine the extent of the damage.

There was no wound. The pain stopped so suddenly, it was as if it had never happened.

The door shut behind me with a whispered click .

Whatever hellscape I’d just stepped into, I’d survive. Tess would appear using a magical portal with some sort of amazing witch-obliterating plan. I’d retrieve Micah. We’d go home together and put this horrible nightmare behind us.

For a beat, the only sound came from my heart. The only color matched the inside of my eyelids.

Then the meadow unfurled.

Color spread across the darkness, tall minty green grasses, purple wildflowers that didn’t simply dot the landscape, but blanketed it. Their petals shimmered in the light like stained glass.

Thick, white trunks reached up to the sky. I followed the height of one, tilting my head back.

The trunks didn’t belong to trees. Caps spread wide like ruby-red umbrellas for giants. Toadstools. They swayed slightly as if to an inaudible tune.

Between their tops, the sky flowed—an endless river of light. The surface rippled a gentle shade of blue with touches of glimmering silver.

The current of dreams.

It was a rogue thought, one I couldn’t explain. Was that the name of the river? It didn’t matter.

I was still me, still barefoot, still completely aware that I’d only opened the door to appease the witch. Nothing but Micah mattered right now.

“I opened the door like you wanted,” I called out across the strange meadow. “Give me back my son.”

A heavy feeling rested on my shoulders, as if this weird world was leaning in to see what I’d do next. More than that—Micah was here. Somewhere. I could feel it in my blood, like a compass tuned to his location.

Weird, because why did the witch need me to open the door if she could teleport inside on her own?

As I took my first step forward, the plants parted ahead of me. I held my spoon like a sword, swallowed hard, and pressed on.

The grass swayed into the back of my ankles, brushing gently against my pants. I could swear some of the flowers turned their petaled heads as if they were watching me as I passed.

With each step, the meadow grew brighter. It was either extending what I could see, or possibly expanding what existed. Glowing golden light reached out all around me like a halo. From the corner of my eye, I caught a fluctuation in that halo, one that was mimicked at the edges of the meadow.

I hadn’t realized it at first, but the light came from my wings. They grew bigger, brighter, harder to ignore.

“If you think I’m going to try flying, land myself in the sky river, and drown, you’re dead wrong,” I told the wings.

They fluttered as if in agreement. If anything, they were more an aura than true wings, which suited me just fine since I had no desire to lift off the ground ever. When I reached out to touch them, my finger slid right through, facing no resistance.

It was like they didn’t really exist. That suited me fine, too.

I tried to mentally prepare myself for who I might face. Since Wendy and the crayon witch seemed pleased with me, that left the mind control witch and the goth witch. I didn’t know what the goth witch’s power was, or what interest she had with this place or me.

This wasn’t a mind control situation, so that left the goth witch. Marnie? Her magical power had to be connected to teleportation or invisibility. Either of which meant she could be anywhere.

The little hairs on my arms stood on end. I took a slow steady breath and focused on my surroundings. Was the goth witch leading me somewhere, or was she right here, right now?

Little noise existed here. From the sky river to my footsteps, everything that should make noise was weirdly quiet. But that made the slight rustle behind me stand out even more—footsteps almost exactly in time with my own. The sound was so faint, I wasn’t sure if it was real or my imagination.

I stopped.

The sound stopped too.

I squeezed the handle of my spoon and subtly turned my head to look over my shoulder.

No one stood between me and the floating door.

No one was here at all.

Maybe I would have been interested in a weird game of magical hide and seek if she hadn’t kidnapped my kid.

I clenched my jaw and glared at nothing. Then I pressed forward.

I tried to focus on the feeling of Micah, tried to imagine his smiling face, tried wishing he was by my side.

He didn’t appear.

As I continued walking, the rustling returned. Closer this time. A shimmer of motion prickled at the edge of my vision.

Why was she doing this? Why not just show up on my doorstep and talk to me? My nerves were fried. The connection I felt to Micah felt sharp, like it was cracking. Maybe I was cracking.

I balled my free fist and yelled, “What do you want from me?”

“Keep walking.”

The voice sounded like it was inside my head.

I stopped in my tracks. “Where is Micah? Why are you doing this?”

“He’s in the village ahead.”

Without hesitation, I ran.

Spores shimmered as they floated down from the toadstools. A few landed on my arms. They were probably in my hair and all over me. It didn’t matter. I kept running.

The meadow thinned into a winding, petal-strewn path, barely visible beneath the flowers. The air grew sweeter, warmer, and filled with the unmistakable sound of laughter.

Micah’s laughter.

“Micah!” I called out as I ran.

A village unfolded in layers, first swirling hills carved into stairways like they had grown naturally as part of the landscape. There were no sharp lines, no rectangles, no right angles. Every structure curved and flowed like it had been carved by the sky river.

Enormous, multicolored toadstools with fat stems looked like houses. Other buildings with stone roofs shimmered with iridescent moss. Everywhere, the air flickered with movement—fluttering wings, drifting sparkles, fireflies.

Beneath all the beauty, there was something…off. The stillness before a question.

“Where on earth am I?” I asked.

“Nowhere. This is the Fae Realm.” The voice said, proving it was still with me. “We’ve waited a long time for you to return.”

Return? I’d never been here before. “Fae, as in fairies?”

My brain cells scattered in search of answers. My nerves screamed to find my son.

I ran down a set of spiraling stairs, bare feet scraped and burning, calling his name. None of this made any sense.

Eyes followed me as I ran. The weight of their attention was heavy on my shoulders, even though I didn’t see any other people.

As I reached the bottom of the staircase, I spotted Micah sitting cross-legged on the ground. He was human, clothed, and surrounded by floating lights.

He looked okay.

No, he looked happy.

His cheeks were flushed, his hair was windblown, and he was laughing—full-on, belly-laughing—at something a small winged creature whispered into his ear. It was like he didn’t care that he’d been magically ripped from his family.

My body was still back in crisis mode, waiting for the catch—the scream, the injury, the ghostly hand reaching from the shadows to drag him back. But all I saw was my son, grinning like he was on a weirdly whimsical field trip.

He turned and saw me.

His smile flickered, then returned. It was sheepish, like maybe he had freaked out earlier but would never admit it to his mother.

Relief hit me like a tidal wave. I ran to him, trying to keep my face neutral, casual, not-freaking-out.

Pretty sure I failed spectacularly, but I didn’t care.

I crouched beside him and pulled him into a hug before I could overthink it.

“Hey, Mom,” he muttered, stiffening for a second. But he didn’t pull away.

I held on a moment longer than necessary. Okay, way longer. Long enough to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, to reassure myself he was whole, warm, real. He smelled like earth and boy and a hint of something floral I didn’t trust.

But he was safe.

Finally, I let go. Sat back. Tried to act like my heart wasn’t still screaming. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing some moss off his shorts. “I mean, considering all of this? I’ve had weirder dreams.”

He tried for a smirk. It landed somewhere between bravado and a plea for reassurance.

I looked around again, just to be sure. There was no sign of the witch, just beauty and stillness and a thousand questions humming under my skin.

“Well, I think it’s time we get the heck out of here, don’t you?”

“Agreed,” Micah said.

We stood up and I leaned in. “Where’s the witch?”

“What witch?”

What witch? “The witch who kidnapped you. Duh.”

His nostrils flared. He twisted his mouth. He looked at me like I was insane.

“You brought him here, Erika,” the voice in my head said.

“No I didn’t. That’s stupid.”

Since Micah couldn’t hear the voice in my head, he looked even more concerned.

“It’s fine,” I told him. “It’s just the witch talking to me.”

“There is no witch,” the voice said.

How was that possible? It had to be a lie. I grabbed onto Micah’s wrist and pulled him along with me to escape.

A shape appeared, a silhouette just like before. This time it was vibrant and gold, the color of my?—

My wings were gone.

“Get out of my way,” I told the witch who might not be a witch. “You can’t have Micah.”

“I’m you,” the voice said. At the same time the golden shadow pointed to itself and then to me.

“You are not me,” I said. “I’m me.”

“I’m your fae half.”

“I feel pretty whole all on my own.” Except that was a lie. Part of me had always been broken because of the white-outs.

Micah pulled on my arm. “Mom, she feels like you.”

How? This didn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand.”

“When you were little, you made a wish,” the voice said. “You wished you could be normal.”

I snorted. “Normal. What even is normal?”

“You cursed yourself, locking away your fae half all these years,” the voice said.

“But I thought you were me,” I said, a prick of pain stabbing in both temples. “Why show up now? Why take Micah?”

“You haven’t been listening,” the voice said.

“I’m listening now.”

“Good.” The golden shadow reached out her hand. “Accept me.”

I recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”

“Whatever she wants, just do it,” Micah said. “Then we can go home.”

“I….” I was afraid. What if all of this was just part of the witch’s trick?

It didn’t feel like a trick.

It felt like the truth.

If an invisible teleporting witch wanted to do something else to us, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do with my spoon to stop her. And if the golden shadow wasn’t a witch, if she was a part of me, then what would happen next?

I took a moment and a breath.

I’d do anything, risk anything, for my family. “Will it fix me?”

“You were never broken,” the voice said.

I wanted it to be true. “And if I say yes, we get to go home?”

The shadow nodded. Her golden wings fluttered. And for a fraction of a second, I felt a weird hiccup of déjà vu, like I was looking in the mirror.

I reached for her. She reached back.

As our fingers touched, they seeped together. A tsunami of hot and cold, past and future, crashed over me without mercy.