The cave entrance vanished as soon as we stepped through, changing to a solid wall of stone when we looked back. Kenzie jumped, then reached out to prod the rock, a look of amazement and disbelief crossing her face.

“Better get used to things like that,” I told her as she turned forward again, looking a bit stunned. “Nothing ever makes sense around here.”

“I’m starting to see that,” she murmured as we made our way down the rocky slope after Grimalkin. The cat trotted briskly ahead, neither slowing down nor glancing back to see if we were still there, and we had to scramble to keep up. I wondered if Meghan had had this same problem when she first came to the Nevernever.

Meghan. Flutters of both nerves and excitement hit my stomach, and I firmly shoved them down. I was going to see my sister, the queen of the Iron Fey. Would she remember me? Would she be angry that I’d come here, after she’d told me not to look for her? Maybe she didn’t want to see me at all. Maybe she was glad to be rid of her human ties.

That thought sent a chill through me. Would she even be the same Meghan I remembered? I had so many memories of her, and she was always the same: the steady older sister who looked out for me. When we got to the Iron Realm, would I find the Iron Queen was insane and cruel like Mab, or fickle and jealous like Titania? I hadn’t met the fey queens, of course, but the stories I’d heard about them told me everything I needed to know. Which was to stay far, far away from them both.

“How old were you when you first came here?”

Kenzie voiced the question just as Grimalkin vanished into the dark gray undergrowth. Alarmed, I stared hard between the trees until I spotted him again and hurried to catch up. Except he did the same damn thing a minute later, and I growled a curse, scanning the bushes. Catching sight of a bushy tail, I hurried forward, Kenzie trailing doggedly beside me. I kept silent, hoping Kenzie would forget the question. No such luck.

“Ethan? Did you hear me? How old were you the last time you came to this place?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said curtly, dodging a bush with vivid blue thorns. Kenzie stepped deftly around it, keeping pace with me.

“Why?”

“Because.” I searched for the cat, ignoring her gaze, and tried to hold on to my temper. “It’s none of your business.”

“News flash, Ethan—I’m stuck in Faeryland, same as you. I think that makes it my business—”

“I was four!” I snapped, turning to glare at her. Kenzie blinked. “The fey took me from my home when I was four and used me as bait so my sister would come rescue me. They stuck me in a cage and poked at me until I screamed, and when she finally did come, they took her away and turned her into one of Them. I have to pretend I don’t have a sister, that I don’t see anything weird or strange or unnatural, that my parents aren’t terrified to let me do anything because they’re scared the fey will steal me again! So, excuse me for not wanting to talk about myself or my screwed-up life. It’s kind of a sore subject, okay?”

“Oh, Ethan.” Kenzie’s gaze was horrified and sympathetic, which was not what I was expecting. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forget it.” Embarrassed, I turned away, waving it off. “It’s just…I’ve never told anyone before, not even my parents. And being back here—” I gestured to the trees around us “—it’s making me remember everything I hated about this place, about Them. I swore I’d never come back. But, here I am and…” Exhaling, I kicked a rock into the undergrowth, making it rattle noisily. “And I managed to pull you in, as well.”

Just like Samantha.

“Humans.” Grimalkin appeared overhead, in the branches of a tree. “You are making too much noise, and this is not a safe place to do so. Unless you wish to attract the attention of every hungry creature in the area, I suggest attempting to continue on in silence.” He sniffed and regarded us without hope. “Give it your best shot at least, hmm?”

* * *

We walked for the rest of the afternoon. At least, I thought we did. It was hard to tell time in the endless gray twilight of the wyldwood. My watch had, of course, stopped, and our phones were dead, so we trailed Grimalkin as best we could for several hours as the eerie, dangerous land of the fey loomed all around us. Shadows moved among the trees, keeping just out of sight. Branches creaked, and footsteps shuffled through the leaves, though I never saw anything. Sometimes I thought I heard voices on the wind, singing or whispering my name.

The colors of the wyldwood were weird and unnatural; everything was gray and murky, but then we’d pass a single tree that was a vivid, poisonous green, or a bush with huge purple berries hanging from the branches. Except for a few curious piskies and one hopeful will-o’-the-wisp, I didn’t see any faeries, which made me relieved and nervous at the same time. It was like knowing a grizzly was stalking you through the woods, only you couldn’t see it. I knew They were out there. I didn’t know if I was happy that they were staying out of sight, or if I’d rather they try something now and get it over with.

“Careful through here,” Grimalkin cautioned. We picked our way through a patch of thick black briars with thorns as long as my hand, shiny and evil-looking. “Do not take your eyes from the path. Pay attention to what is happening at your feet.”

Bones hung in the branches and littered the ground at the base of the bushes, some tiny, some not. Kenzie shuddered whenever we passed one, clutching the key around her neck, but she followed the cat through the branches without a word.

Until a vine snaked around her ankle.

She pitched forward with a yelp, right toward a patch of nasty looking thorns. I caught her before she could impale herself on the spikes. She gasped and clung to my shirt while the offending vine slithered back into the undergrowth.

“You okay?” I asked. I could feel her shaking against me, her heart thudding against my ribs. It felt…good…to hold her like this. Her small body fit perfectly against mine.

With a start, I realized what I was doing and released her quickly, drawing back. Kenzie blinked, still trying to process what had happened, then glared down at the briar patch.

“It…the branch…it tried to trip me, didn’t it?” she said, sounding incredulous and indignant all at once. “Jeez, not even the plant life is friendly. What did I ever do to it?”

We stepped out of the briar patch, and I looked around for Grimalkin. He had vanished once more, and I stared hard into the trees, searching for him. “Here’s a hint,” I told Kenzie, narrowing my eyes as I peered into the undergrowth and shadows. “And it might save your life. Just assume that everything here—plant, animal, insect, toadstool, whatever—is out to get you.”

“Well, that’s not very friendly of them. They don’t even know me.”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously—”

“Ethan, I was just nearly impaled by a bloodthirsty killer bush! I think I’m taking this fairly well, considering.”

I glanced back at her. “Whatever. Just remember, nothing in the Nevernever is friendly to humans. Even if the fey appear friendly, they all have ulterior motives. Not even the cat is doing this for free. And if they can’t get what they want, they’ll take something anyway or try to kill you. You can’t trust the fey, ever. They’ll pretend to be your friend and stab you in the back when it’s most convenient, not because they’re mean, or spiteful or hateful, but because it’s their nature. It’s just how they are.”

“You must hate them a great deal,” Kenzie said softly.

I shrugged, abruptly self-conscious. “You haven’t seen what I have. It’s not without cause, trust me.” Speaking of which, Grimalkin still hadn’t appeared. “Where’s that stupid cat?” I muttered, starting to get nervous and a little mad. “If he’s gone off and left us—”

A branch rustled somewhere in the woods behind us. We both froze, and Kenzie looked over warily.

“That sounded a little too big for a cat…”

Another branch snapped, closer this time. Something was coming. Something big and fast.

“Humans!” Grimalkin’s voice echoed from nowhere, though the urgency in it was plain. “Run! Now!”

Kenzie jumped. I tensed, gripping my weapons. Before we could even think about moving, the bushes parted and a huge reptilian creature spilled out of the brambles into the open.

At first, I thought it was a giant snake, as the scaly green body was close to twenty feet long. But its head was more dragon than serpent, and two short, clawed forearms stuck out of its sides, just behind its shoulder blades. It raised its head, a pale, forked tongue flicking the air, before it reared up with a hiss, baring a mouthful of needlelike teeth.

Kenzie gasped, and I yanked her into the trees as the monster lunged, barely missing us. The snap of its jaws echoed horribly in my ears. We ran, weaving around trees, tearing through bramble and undergrowth, hearing the crashing of twigs and branches at our heels as it followed.

I dodged behind a thick trunk, pulling Kenzie behind me, and raised my sticks as the monster’s head slithered around, forked tongue tasting the air. When it turned, I brought the rattan down across its snout as hard as I could, striking the rubbery nose three times before the thing hissed and pulled back with blinding speed. As it drew away, I spotted a place where we could make our stand and yanked Kenzie toward it.

“What is that thing?” Kenzie cried as I pulled her into a cluster of trees, their trunks grown close together to form a protective cage around us. No sooner had I squeezed through than the monster’s head appeared between a crack, snapping narrow jaws at me. I whacked it across the head with my sticks, and it pulled back with a screech. I saw its scaly body through the circle of trees, coiling around us like a snake with a mouse, and fought to remain calm.

“Kenzie,” I panted, trying to track the thing’s head through the branches. My arms shook, and I focused on staying loose, holding my sticks in front of me. “Stay in the center as much as you can. Don’t go near the edge of the trees.”