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CHAPTER THREE

R unning her hand through her wet curls, wringing out some of the water, she wiped her face. “All right. Okay. Sure. Fine. Whatever. Great. Kicked out of my house. Lured into the woods. Trapped in a…prison? Cool. I have a creepy book that I…” She looked down at the giant thing in her hand. “Can’t open?” Sure enough, the latches were very much solid, and there was no way to put in a key or twist anything to get them open as far as she could see.

Adjusting her backpack, she headed off into the abandoned building that was apparently some kind of prison, if that freaky… fae , she forced herself to keep saying the word to herself in her head, was telling her the truth. The one who was both somehow there but not.

It was possible he was lying.

She didn’t know much about the fae, but she knew that they were tricksters.

As she turned the corner around the hallway, she stopped abruptly.

This wasn’t a normal building. And something told her she wasn’t in Massachusetts anymore. At least, not in the conventional sense. In front of her, having no business being attached to the hallway she had just been standing in, was a huge open atrium—the glass ceiling having been long since shattered by a gigantic tree that had sprouted up in the middle of it to seek out the sunlight and fresh air above.

The ground was dry, covered in grass and lush plants. Wherever Ava was now, it hadn’t been raining. Moonlight was pouring in from overhead, illuminating the pathways around her that stretched around the gigantic tree and along the corridors that led around the rectangular space into the darkness on either side.

But it was the house that was built into the base of the tree that caught her attention. It was comically cliché. An arched door, set into the trunk, had a circular hole in it with no glass. From within, she could see firelight flickering. She could smell woodsmoke and cooking food.

Whatever the person—or creature—inside was making? It smelled incredible. Her stomach grumbled in jealous protest. But she wasn’t that stupid.

No, knocking on the door of some freaking Keebler fae-elf-monster-thing was probably a great way to get herself killed in record time. It didn’t matter how cold, soaked, hungry, and miserable she was.

That was suicide. And that was something she wasn’t quite ready to do. Yet. Give her a few hours. Maybe then she’d change her mind.

Heading off to the right, down one of the corridors in a random direction, she froze as she heard the door to the tree creak open.

“Hello?” someone called out. “Is there—is there someone there?” It was a little old woman, maybe only as tall as Ava’s shoulder—and that was saying something, Ava was average height. She was hunched over, holding a broomstick in her shaking hand. “I won’t let you steal from me again, you brigands!” She sounded terrified.

Her hair was white, pulled back in a braid that draped over her shoulder. Her clothing was ancient—looked early seventeenth century, if not older. An old muslin dress with an apron over it. It dated to back when clothing was shapeless and functional and nothing more. But the thing that really caught Ava’s attention was the bandage that covered the woman’s eyes.

She was blind. It was clear by the way she was waving the broomstick around aimlessly. Ava wasn’t that far away, and it wasn’t that dark, with all the moonlight.

Ava froze and stayed silent. Maybe the old woman would just go back inside.

“Leave a poor witch alone, I have nothing for you—and I have enough of my own problems!” The old woman’s voice cracked, close to tears. “Haven’t you taken enough from me?” She gestured at her face with her other hand, meaning her eyes.

Ava’s heart broke. She couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m not here to hurt you, I’m just walking through the atrium. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I—I’m new here?” She sounded like an idiot.

“Oh!” The old woman startled, turning to face where Ava was standing. “Oh, dearie, I thought you were one of those bastards —come here, come here.” She waved her hand to motion Ava closer. “New here, you say?” She frowned. “Poor thing…trapped in the Web with the rest of us lost souls?”

“That’s really the name of this place.” So the strange ghostly man with the green hair hadn’t been lying about that.

“Aye, dearie, don’t—” She clicked her tongue. “You weren’t sentenced. He brought you.” She spat on the ground outside her house, and swore in a language that Ava didn’t understand, but she definitely knew wasn’t clean. “Sounds like you’ve earned a mug of ale and a hot bowl of stew from Old Braega. Come, come.”

Ava hesitated. “I’m all right.”

The old woman laughed. “Smart one, you are. Know well not to trust anyone in a place like this. I understand. But I give you my word.” She placed her gnarled hand over her heart. “On my soul, on my magic, on my name, Old Braega pledges it—your life is safe within my home.”

That…sounded damn convincing. From what little she knew about how magic worked, and how old things like that functioned, that seemed…like she meant it. She tapped her fingers against her thighs, thinking. She wanted one more assurance. “I would also like to be free to leave your home at any time.”

“Mm, now you bargain with a fae. Nothing comes for free. What will you give in return?” She leaned against her broomstick, the bristles on the end crunching slightly at the shift of her weight.

Ava took a second to think it through. What did she have that the fae would want? Especially something that was useless to her. “I have a piece of rare human technology in my bag. Something no one within this place has likely ever seen. I will give it to you in trade.” Her cellphone was useless to her anyway. “It can do many marvels.” Yeah, sure, she’d let Old Braega enjoy her entire music library. Have fun listening to Imagine Dragons and Kalandra , you weird old fae lady.

She wouldn’t warn the lady that it’d be rendered useless without being able to charge it in a few days. That wasn’t part of the conversation.

Old Braega tapped her chin. “We have a deal. I love a shrewd human. Come in, come in.” She waved her close and shuffled inside the tree.

With a breath, and a suspicion that she was still getting herself into a great deal of trouble, she headed inside the tree, shutting the door behind her. Manners were important. Opening up her bag, she fished out her phone. “Here you are.”

The “house” was one room, and looked precisely as she expected the hollowed out interior of a tree to look. It was circular, the walls scraped and carved out of the wood. But somehow, it hadn’t killed the tree at all. The hearth was built into the far wall, and was warped and pulled up on one side, as if the growth of the tree had misshapen it. One wall had a cot, where the old lady slept. There were two chairs, a small dining table for two, and another small table covered with herbs, crystals, and bundles of sticks and bones. Animal bones, luckily.

Everything looked roughly hewn and handmade. To call it rustic would be doing the word rustic a lot of favors. But it felt…comfortable. Homey, in a weird way.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Place it on the table with my spell casting goods. It’s not useful to me, mind you. I have no sight with which to use it. But in trade, how grand.” She was already by the fire, scooping stew out of a large cast iron pot into a wooden bowl with a ladle. “There’s ale over there in the jug on the table. Get yourself a mug, dearie, and have yourself a seat by the fire. Let Old Braega answer your questions.”

“I thought fae were dangerous.” After placing her phone down next to the bundles of sticks, she headed to the dining table in question. There was a big clay jug sitting in the middle of it. Uncorking the top, she gave it a sniff. It smelled like beer. She had no idea what kind , but she supposed she really didn’t care. She poured herself a mug, sipping it—it tasted like beer. She hoped it wasn’t poisoned. Or drugged.

“Aye, we are. We very much are.” She laughed, somehow still mirthful and kind. “You are right to fear us. Right to make sure you are safe from us. All of life is a game for us to win, a negotiation where we can outwit our opponent.”

“So why are you helping me?” Ava still wasn’t sure the old fae woman was helping her. And that was the whole point.

“Because too many have been brought to this wretched place.” She grimaced, her haggard old features accentuated in the firelight. “And I have no love for the bastard who did this to you. And all the more kindness for those poor women like me who find themselves at the mercy of the Web.” Braega gestured to a chair by the fire. “Sit, dearie, sit.”

Still reluctant, and fairly certain that the chair was just as likely to start talking to her and eat her as it was to be a normal chair, she walked over and sat in it. Luckily, it didn’t say hello and bite her foot.

Braega handed her the bowl of stew, before fetching herself one of her own. Setting her mug of ale on the flat arm of the chair, she picked up the wooden spoon from the edge and stirred it. She recognized potatoes and onions. She didn’t know what the broth was, but she figured beggars and choosers and all that jazz.

She was starving. “I think I remember something about not thanking the fae.”

“You remember correct, though consider me disappointed.” She clicked her tongue before shooting her a slightly cheeky smile. Her Irish accent was thick, and it made Ava smile. She missed them when she was back in Boston, though you could find them roaming South Boston from time to time. “So. May I have your name, dearie?”

“Mmm.” She scooped up a square of potato and ate it. It was delicious. “No. But I can tell you what to call me.”

“Damn and double damn.” The old woman laughed. “You are good at this. Right. Well, what might I call you, smart little one?”

“Ava.”

“Ava.” She hummed. “The next in the line. And you have that blasted book now, I assume.”

She looked down at it in her lap. “Yeah…”

“Blessed be the soul that gave Gregor the rest he finally deserved. Even if it means you have brought hell upon yourself, dearie. He was foolish enough to deny the master of the Web his wishes one too many times, and look what it got him.”

The master of the Web. “The man with the green hair.”

“Aye, and eyes of yellow, though it’s been many an era since I’ve seen them for myself.” She shuffled over to her seat and sat down into it with a groan. Her chair was covered in thick blankets and padding. “Serrik.”

Serrik. The name lingered in her mind.

“What has he offered you in exchange for your cooperation? Mm?” Braega placed her bowl of food down in her lap.

“My freedom.” She put the bowl of food down on top of the book. She hoped it didn’t mind being used as a TV tray. It wouldn’t surprise her if it was vaguely sentient.

“How boring! How simple! Pah! Take a word of advice from Old Braega, dearie—bargain for far more than just that. Tssh. Freedom is worthless. You humans are the only ones in this or any other world who truly value it.” Braega waved her gnarled hand dismissively at her. “Bid higher. Think bigger. You seem clever. Creatures like him always assume they can outsmart you. That is their weakness.”

“I’ll remember that.” And she’d do her best. She took a sip of the beer before going back to the stew. She stared down at the book. “What is this thing? The book?”

“Nngh, complicated. A collection of spells. All spells, in fact. A pile of useless dreams, it is, though.” Braega chuckled. “Because you’re not a witch, dearie. That was how that bastard Serrik was able to pull you here. So it is useless to you, as you are right now.”

“So he was responsible. I knew it.” She grimaced.

“He is desperate to escape this place. And he needs a human to do it.”

“Is there any other way out? For me, I mean. Not him. He can stay here and rot for all I care.”

“No one has ever escaped the Web.” Her voice was dark when she said it. “And it is deadly to try.”

Ava looked toward the closed door. “I won’t last long here, will I? Serrik said I couldn’t die now but with what he said about this place having fates worse than death…”

“No, dearie, you won’t. I’m afraid you’ll become someone’s little human plaything before long.” Braega sighed. “Especially without your eyes, I’m afraid you won’t make it through the night.”

Nothing in her cordial tone shifted when she had said the words.

A cold shiver of fear went down Ava’s spine like ice water. “I’ll be leaving now.” She put the spoon down in the stew a little harder than she meant to. It stirred the thick substance up. And that was when something came bobbing up from the bottom, the dark gravy clearing from the surface of it enough that she could recognize it.

An eye.

A human eye.

Her stew was looking at her.

Her stomach lurched in horror.

Jumping to her feet, she knocked the chair, the bowl, and the mug of ale to the ground, her leg getting caught up in the leg of the chair, sending her crashing right back to the floor.

“Oh, no need to make such a fuss , dearie.” Braega tutted. “It will not even hurt! You will not even bleed. ” She pushed up from her own chair with a groan. “Just a few words and I’ll have them in my palm, simple as that.”

“No—no!” Ava wailed, scrambling up to her feet, and heading for the door. Yanking on the doorknob—it didn’t move. “Let me out—you said I could leave whenever I wanted to! We had a deal!”

“Aye, we did. We said you could leave whenever you wanted. I never said the door would open for you.” She laughed. “ You shut it behind you, not me!”

“Help!” Ava screamed. “Somebody, anybody, help! ” Who was going to help her in a prison for the fae? Tears were streaming down her cheeks again as she yanked helplessly, uselessly on the doorknob.

“Oh, dearie. It’ll all be over soon. Then, I’ll tell you what—Old Braega will find you a lovely creature who will take you as a pet, yes?” The old fae grabbed Ava’s wrist. “You are a beautiful, tasty creature, and you will be easy to trade, especially when your will is broken, and you have no eyes…”

“Please—no—please—” She knew begging was useless, but she had no other option.

“I can trade you to the most hideous, monstrous thing, you will never care, as I will have eaten your eyes! You will be loved, cherished, kept safe. How wonderful, don’t you think?” Braega smiled, still sounding genuine through all her cruelty. “It truly is the best outcome for you.” She reached up a gnarled hand toward Ava’s face.

Ava screamed.

The door to Old Braega’s house burst inwards, sending them both flying.