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  "Honey," Geraldine said, "there have been a lot of times in my life that I regretted not giving an apology, but not many times that I regretted giving one. At least go see if she's all right."

  And, damn it, she was right. In all honesty I was worried about Fresca too.

  "Fres?" I called quietly, stepping into the kitchen. The lights were off and there was no sign of her. I went upstairs and found her door closed, with a strip of light underneath, and Drew loitering in the hallway.

  "She's crying in there," he said, looking helpless and fretful.

  I raised a hand to knock, then lowered it and shoved both my hands into my pockets. "D'you think I should go in there?"

  "You? Are asking my advice?" Drew conjured his guitar out of thin air, played a peppy little flourish and then made it go back to wherever it came from. "That needed musical accompaniment," he told me. "Allow me to note the date."

  "Knock it off. I think she's crying because of me, but I really don't think I did anything to apologize for. Other than making her cry, I guess."

  "The thought has occurred to me sometimes, Darrow, that you're more of a stereotypical guy than I am." Drew leaned against the wall next to me—or appeared to, anyway.

  "You're no help."

  "Not really." Drew smiled that unexpected, disarmingly sweet smile that he was occasionally capable of. "But there's something kind of cool about you asking."

  Fresca's door whipped open and she stood framed in the glow of her bedside lamp. "Who are you talking to out here? Are you talking over my personal problems with the household ghost?"

  "Why not?" Drew snapped, although she couldn't hear him. "Ghosts are people too, you know."

  "I was wondering whether you want me to come in."

  Fresca sighed. "If the alternative is you baring your soul to Casper and anyone else within earshot, come on in."

  I gave Drew a smile and a little wave, because he actually had been comforting in his own way, and then shut the door, because that didn't mean I wanted to invite him into all my most personal moments. Fresca's bedroom, as usual, looked like a yard sale had exploded all over an anime convention. In order to get to her bed, I had to make my own path through comics memorabilia, books, clothing, and other interesting items, including a fluffy wig the color of pink cotton candy.

  Fresca sat crosslegged on her bed and twisted her hands in her lap. "I was out of line. I'm sorry."

  "Me too." I sat down next to her. "Fres, are you doing okay?"

  "No," Fresca said. She let herself fall back onto the bed, uncrossed her legs and put up her knees.

  I flopped down too, and turned my head to look at her. "Is this about Scylla, or is it about me?"

  "It's not you, Kay." She threw her arm over her eyes.

  I screwed up my fists in her rumpled sheets. The bed smelled like Fresca, like her soap and shampoo and perfume.

  "I'm so sorry, Fres. If there's anything, anything at all I could do to go back and stop that from happening—"

  "Kay, for God's sake. Not everything is about you. I'm not angry at you."

  She sounded angry, but I'd rather have her angry than broken. I propped myself up on my elbows. "I asked some of the Gatekeepers about therapists for—"

  "For fuck's sake, Kay, mind your own business!"

  "—for people who went through monster type stuff," I snapped back. "Because they really should have them!"

  "So what'd they say?" she asked tightly.

  I deflated. "I guess they don't do that kind of thing. Stupid jerks. There must be something out there, though. Online, maybe?"

  "Oh, trust me," Fresca said. "I have been wading through all the darkest corners of the Crazynet. I found everything from people kidnapped by aliens to the ones who lived for hundreds of years among the elves."

  "Do you think they really did?"

  "I dunno." Fresca sighed. "I tried posting some stuff under an alias. I even got a new email just for that stuff in case anyone ever tries to Google me. I don't know if it helps. Mostly I just feel as crazy as the rest of them."

  "You're not," I said promptly. "Crazy, I mean."

  "Kay, I kind of am, actually. Just not in the seeing-things-that-aren't-there sort of way."

  I wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. "Fresca, do you mind if I ask—I mean, we've never really talked about you and Scylla, but she didn't, um. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

  Fresca bopped my shoulder lightly with her fist. "She didn't do anything other than smack me around a little, if that's what you're worrying about."

  I relaxed a bit. I hadn't really wanted to think—but I never really knew for sure. "I don't really want to say 'good,' but, uh ..."

  "See, that's part of the problem, though," Fresca said, staring at the ceiling forlornly. "Nothing happened, Kay. You've been dealing with much worse shit, and I just ... all I had to do was be in a cave for a little while and I don't know why I'm being so stupid about it. I—"

  Her voice hitched and she ground her fists angrily into her eyes. I sat up, pulled her hands away from her face and then gathered her into my arms. She breathed a long sigh against my shoulder and then clung back.

  "Trust me, Fres," I said into her hair. "I'm not dealing with it. At all. Really, I'm just doing that thing I always do where I don't think about things, and believe me, I'm scared as hell about what's going to happen when it all comes falling down on top of my—"

  There was a knock at the door.

  "If that's Drew," Fresca muttered into my shoulder, "I'm gonna have him exorcised for real this time."

  "It can't be Drew. He can't touch anything." I raised my head and called, "Yeah?"

  "Sorry to bother you, Kay," my grandmother said through the door, "but there's someone here to see you."

  "If it's a white lady who looks like a movie star, I'm not fucking home."

  "Not at all," Geraldine said. "I believe they're Brazilian."

  "Huh." I pulled away from Fresca. "Gatekeepers."

  "Maybe they've found the sword," she said hopefully.

  Taza's outfit du jour was a Pepto Bismol-pink suit with flaring sleeves, topped with a wide-brimmed hat bearing a white ostrich plume. Felipa coordinated nicely in a pink-flowered white dress. I wondered if they planned it that way. Honey, I'm wearing the pink today; do you have anything in your closet that'll match?

  They accepted coffee, declined pizza, and made polite greetings when I introduced them to Fresca. Both of them seemed hesitant—almost deferential. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what they had to say.

  The three of us went outside to talk, taking our coffee cups and leaving a very curious-looking group in the kitchen. Creiddylad came with us; she seemed to already know Taza and Felipa. Under the pretext of checking the household defenses, we strolled around my circle of protective rock cairns guarding the yard.

  "I didn't know you guys knew where I lived," I said, leaning down to pick up a rock that had been knocked off one of the cairns. Keeping them touched up was a daily chore. We had originally put them up to keep Scylla out, but Muirin had suggested it would be a good idea to keep them up for general defense against the things that go bump in the night. "Is there like a Gatekeeper dossier on everybody, or what?"

  Taza laughed. "Just old-fashioned research. You're not exactly hiding."

  "Should I be?" They glanced at each other, and I said, "That was a joke."

  "This might not be a good time for jokes," Taza said. "Were you aware that Muirin is missing?"

  "I know I haven't been able to get in touch with her."

  "No one has," Felipa said in her quiet voice. "No one's heard from her in a week. Taza and I stopped by her place on our way up here. By the state of her refrigerator, she hasn't been home in that time."

  "When were you last in contact with her?" Taza asked.

  Feeling sick, I said, "In New York last weekend. At Seth's place. I haven't heard from her since. Do you think she's in trouble?"

  "No way to know
," Taza said. "We're an autonomous bunch. We don't check in with each other often. On the other hand, you're her student; if anyone should know where she is, it's you."

  "No, I don't. But—" I almost stopped out of habit, then kept going. "I had a visitor," I said. Nothing tried to stop me; the words didn't slide away. "Do you know anyone named Jill Frost?"

  Taza and Felipa looked at each other. Felipa shook her head. I was almost dizzy with the relief of being able to talk about it.

  "I think she's one of Muirin's kind—a fairy. She came to see me the day before I met all of you. She was asking questions about Muirin. She's the one who put the geas on me, so I couldn't talk about it."

  "You shouldn't treat with that kind," Taza said.

  "I didn't intend to. Could she have hurt Muirin, or captured her?" Or worse, but I didn't want to think it.

  "Perhaps," Felipa said, nibbling at her lip.

  "And there's more," I went on, and let the words spill out before I could take them back. The time for trying to solve the problem on my own was past. Here was help; I could lay it in their laps. "The sword's missing too."

  While our cups of coffee grew cold in our hands, I told them about returning from Shadow New York to find my car broken into and the sword missing. Creiddylad, bored, lay down at my feet.

  "You were with Millie and Irmingard at the time?" Taza asked.

  "We split up in Shadow New York."

  They exchanged another glance—the silent communication of long-married people—and I said, "You think I'm lying?" Creiddylad's head came up at the sharpness in my tone.

  Felipa slid her hand into Taza's. "We don't know what to think, Kay," she said gently. "We only met you a week ago, and now our friend is missing and the item she used to guard with her life is missing too."

  "Let's say we're keeping our options open," Taza added.

  I tried to keep my anger down. They were right: they didn't know me, had no way to know what I was capable of. "Maybe you should be interrogating Millie and Irmingard. They can vouch for me. Millie's car was parked next to mine, and gone when I got back. She might have seen something." Or done something, a dark corner of my mind whispered.

  "This isn't an interrogation," Taza said. "And it isn't Gatekeeper business, exactly. It's more of a personal investigation. We're only trying to find out if our friend is in trouble. We're on your side, Kay."

  Thinking of them as my enemies wouldn't get me anywhere. I closed my eyes, pressed my fist to my forehead until I was calm again. All my mother's indoctrination about keeping your head down and being the bigger person seemed suddenly apropos. You aren't going to get anywhere with this bunch by loudly proclaiming your innocence, I told myself. Be what they want you to be, Kay, and maybe they won't see you as a threat.

  "I want to find her too," I said, meek and humble as I knew how to be. "How can I help?"

  "You can call us if you hear from her." Taza handed me a business card—ornate, with gold embellishments that glinted in the light. Taza + Felipa, was all it said, with a phone number under each name. Not U.S. numbers; they had an international country code.

  "I have some other information for you, too," I said. "I think Muirin and Seth are right that there's something going on with the magic in the New York area." I told them what I felt that I could about what St. Clair had told me, leaving out her request for my help. I still hadn't decided what I wanted to do about that, not that it mattered if I never saw the sword again.

  "We'll look into it," Taza said, so noncommittally that I couldn't tell if he intended to or not.

  Our circling had brought us back around to their car, a sporty little European convertible. Felipa gave me an unexpected hug, and her face was sympathetic as she drew back. Felipa, I thought, might have a better understanding of the undercurrents between the three of us than Taza did. He wasn't human. She was. And it did make a difference.

  After they drove away, I dumped our cold coffee on the lawn and slouched up to the kitchen door with the three cups dangling from my fingers by their handle loops. When I opened the door, the entire gang of curious onlookers—including Drew—almost fell through it.

  "Wow, guys, don't strain something." I set the coffee cups in the sink. "So I think now I might be under suspicion of Muirin's murder, if I'm reading things right."

  "They think you what?" From the look on her face, Fresca was one step from charging upstairs, grabbing the shotgun and taking off after them. Actually, I realized from the horrified way everyone was looking at me that they'd mistaken my meaning.

  "There's no body, guys. She's just missing. And they aren't about to arrest me or anything. But they're suspicious that I had something to do with her disappearance."

  "Did you tell them about the missing sword?" Fresca asked.

  "I did. They didn't seem shocked. I think they already knew something was up." I scrubbed my hand across my face. Complications within complications ... "You wanted to meet Lily-Bell, Grandma. Well, I think you're gonna have to. I mean, we are. I'm pretty sure that if there is a group of people out there who're even more motivated to find Muirin and the sword than the Gatekeepers, it's St. Clair's bunch." I looked around at them. "I think our spelunking trip just became a priority."

  Chapter 15

  We three spelunkers rendezvoused at the crack of do-not-want in the kitchen. Actually, make that four spelunkers: Creiddylad was sleeping on the couch, and came trotting to join us when she saw we were all up. I fed her a slice of cold pizza and a handful of aging chicken nuggets left over from our last deli-counter acquisition. Healthy breakfasts could start tomorrow.

  Yesterday's sunny weather had given way to a miserable, rainy morning, though it was still humid and warm. I hunted up all the flashlights that we had in the house. I also brought the pictures I'd drawn of Jill Frost and Creiddylad, folded up along with Gwyn's letter to Muirin and tucked into an envelope that I had sealed inside a plastic snap-seal bag. Fresca provided a small backpack that we filled with some sandwiches and flashlights and a bottle of water. She and I wore our rain slickers, and we dug through the junk in the spare room until we found an old poncho for Geraldine.

  "Are you sure you're up to scrambling around in the woods?" I asked my grandmother, with a nervous glance at her walking cane.

  "Not really," she said, unruffled. "But I've never let that stop me. If I tire out, I can read in the car while you girls explore."

  "So how are we going to find this place?" Fresca asked, pulling up a map on her phone. "I don't suppose you stopped to check the GPS location last time."

  I glanced at Creiddylad, who tilted her head to the side and looked back at me. "If she's willing to do it, I think we have something a lot better than GPS."

  The Creiddylad-o-meter worked like a charm. I couldn't even remember where Muirin had turned off the highway, but Creiddylad, riding quietly in the backseat, came suddenly to attention and looked out the window at the dripping woods. I turned down a gravel side road and parked in the long grass behind an abandoned mobile home trailer. There was a NO TRESPASSING sign, but it was obvious that no one had lived here in years; the roof was collapsing, with a small tree growing out of it. This was not where Muirin and I had left the car on our last trip, so hopefully Creiddylad knew what she was doing and we weren't about to become hopelessly lost.

  "I don't suppose anyone thought to bring a leash?" my grandmother asked.

  "I think she'll stay with us." I leaned over the backseat and caught Creiddylad's long muzzle. "Hey, we need to go where we met you, okay? The old house where Lily was?"

  "Do you think she can understand you?" Fresca asked.

  "I don't know, but she took me there before. I hope she'll do it again."

  At the very least, Creiddylad didn't immediately run off, which I'd been a little worried about. She hopped down, stretched and then squatted to relieve herself by the trailer, while I offered Geraldine a hand out of the car.

  Fresca was pale and jumpy. She'd brought her shotgun along and h
eld it close to her chest, flinching at the drips from the trees.

  "Sure you don't want me to hold that for you?" I asked, with a nervous look from her anxious face to her white-knuckled grip on the gun.

  "I'm fine," she said, pulling it out of my reach.

  I was unprepared for how naked and helpless I felt without the sword. I collected the old road flares I kept in the trunk, which at least made me feel like there was something I could use for self defense. When I called Creiddylad's name, she perked up her ears and trotted into the edge of the woods, pausing to wait while Fresca and I matched our pace to Geraldine's slower one.

  This place turned out to be a lot closer than Muirin's parking spot. Within a few minutes we hit the old road through the orchard. Fresca's vigilance, and mine, cranked up to all-hands-on-deck, but Creiddylad seemed unconcerned—alert, but not afraid. And Geraldine was calm as usual. I wondered if even a Tiger charging out of the forest would rattle her composure. I guess after you've been through everything she's been through, you develop a certain level of unflappable calm.

  Brief downpours alternated with drizzle, leaving us wet and out of sorts. It had been raining the last time I was here, too. I pondered this as we topped the hill, revealing the foundations of the old farmhouse through a gray curtain of rain. I wondered how much less creepy the place would look on a sunny afternoon, rather than cloaked in mist.

  "Is this it?" Fresca whispered, two inches from my ear. I jumped.

  "I don't think we need to whisper."

  "I'm taking no chances," Fresca retorted in a piercing undertone.

  She followed with the shotgun pointing at the ground, while Geraldine and I led the way to the ruins. Creiddylad was waiting for us, standing inside the house's crumbled foundation with her long body stretched and her paws on the top step. She made a gorgeous picture, lean and pale against the dark, wet trees. I paused to snap a quick shot with my phone, even knowing it probably wouldn't turn out.

  It didn't. The picture showed nothing except the stone foundation and a faint rainbow swirl in the air.