Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Ava walked through the nightmare streets of the nightmare mashup world she had created and…
Didn’t know what to do.
Just didn’t. She didn’t even know where to begin.
Everywhere she looked, there was some new kind of nonsense all mashed together with some other kind of madness.
Monsters were forming out of someone’s terror, or perhaps they were just born of Tir n’Aill or the Web, and wreaking havoc on unsuspecting fae and humans alike.
And all she could do was…walk along with Serrik and Puck and…think. And hope she came up with a plan. Or hope a plan just sort of fell into her lap. Or that a plan just sort of happened to her.
She also didn’t know what to do with the fact that Serrik was clearly set on his path to revenge—killing every fae he came across, whether she liked it or not. Well, almost every fae. Puck and some notable exceptions notwithstanding.
Glancing over at Puck, she found him flipping through images on his tablet. “Serrik called you a half breed?”
“Half Seelie, half Unseelie.” The silver-haired creature answered without looking up. “Only one. Like Tigger.” He flashed a momentary grin at her. “Twice as manic and twice as adorable.”
“Huh.” She paused. “I’m surprised there’s only been one instance of…y’know. Cross-pollination.”
Puck snorted. “It usually doesn’t work. Literally not genetically compatible. I’m just a freak ‘o nature.”
“Is that why Abigail and Valroy don’t have kids?” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh god, can you imagine Valroy with a kid?”
Puck cackled at the mental image. “Oh lawd, he’d either eat the kid or play ‘how high can it bounce if I throw it off a building?’ No, let’s not give the psychopathic megalomaniac a child.
Or let him babysit.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, turning his attention to Serrik. “Spider-grumps here, though…”
That earned him a foul glance from Serrik from over his shoulder. “Leave me out of his childish discussion, both of you.”
“It’s distracting me from the fact that I don’t know what to do, I’m about two inches away from a full nervous breakdown, and you’re on a murderous genocidal rampage that is only mildly better than the other guy’s much more murderous genocidal rampage.
” Ava didn’t even bother to try to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Serrik's steps faltered slightly at her words, but he didn't respond.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of chaos echoing through the twisted streets.
A building that looked like it had been designed by someone with a fever dream groaned ominously as they passed, its windows showing glimpses of different realities flickering like television channels.
“Look.” Puck closed his tablet with a snap. “I get that you're stressed. We all are. But maybe we could focus on ensuring none of us die first, and then work on the existential crisis later?”
Ava was about to respond when she caught sight of movement ahead.
A group of fae had emerged from what appeared to be a combination subway entrance and cave mouth, their forms illuminated by the sickly green glow that seemed to emanate from everything in this nightmare version of Boston.
There were maybe six or seven of them, moving cautiously but not aggressively.
She felt Serrik tense beside her. The predatory stillness that came over him made her stomach clench. “Serrik, wait—”
But he was already moving, stepping forward with that deadly grace she'd come to associate with imminent violence. The group of fae looked up, startled, and Ava could see the fear flash across their faces as they recognized what Serrik was.
No.
The word formed in her mind with perfect clarity, like the ringing of a bell, and with it came the surge of power she'd felt before. This time, though, she didn't hesitate. She reached out with her ability, wrapping it around Serrik like invisible chains.
“Stop.”
The command hit him like a physical blow. His forward momentum ceased so abruptly that he nearly stumbled, his hand freezing as he went to raise it and likely unfurl his golden threads.
Silver threads bound him in place. Her threads, not his. Huh. So that was a thing she could do now.
Well, that made sense, she supposed. He had bound his magic to her at the start of all this stupidity. Stepping up beside him, she could feel his confusion, his rage at being constrained, but she held firm. “Look at them. Actually look at them.”
The group of fae had clustered together, but they weren't preparing for battle. They were protecting something—someone. As Ava's eyes adjusted to the strange lighting, she could see there were children among them. Small forms pressed against the adults, wide-eyed and trembling.
“They're not your enemy,” she said, her voice gentler now but her power still holding Serrik in place. “They're just trying to survive, same as everyone else.”
She could feel his internal struggle, the war between his ingrained hatred and what he was actually seeing. The power it took to hold him was enormous—like trying to redirect a river with her bare hands—but she gritted her teeth and maintained the connection.
One of the adult fae, a woman with bark-like skin and leaves in her hair, stepped forward hesitantly. “Please,” Her voice carried the musical quality of wind through trees. “We mean no harm. We're just trying to find somewhere safe for the little ones.”
The children peered out from behind their guardians, and Ava's heart broke at the abject terror in their enormous eyes. One of them couldn't have been more than five or six, clutching a homemade stuffed animal that looked like it had seen better decades.
“Where are you trying to go?” Ava asked, still maintaining her hold on Serrik.
“Anywhere that isn't here,” the tree-woman replied. “The barriers between the courts have collapsed. Everything is chaos. We're just trying to find a place where the children will be safe.”
Serrik made a sound that might have been a growl, but when Ava glanced at him, she could see something shifting in his expression. The murderous hatred was still there, but it was cracking around the edges.
“They have children,” she said quietly, just for him. “Look at their faces. They're terrified, not aggressive. They're not the ones who hurt you.”
She felt his resistance waver, and carefully, very carefully, she began to ease her hold on him. “You don't have to like them,” she continued. “You don't have to forgive them. But you don't have to kill them either.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant rumble of something large moving through the nightmare cityscape. Then Serrik straightened, his hand dropping away from his weapons.
“Go,” he said to the group, his voice rough. “Before I change my mind.”
The tree-woman's relief was palpable as she gathered the children closer. “May the green paths guide you safely.”
The group hurried past them, giving Serrik a wide berth but offering grateful nods to Ava. She watched them disappear into the tangled mess of twisted streets, then finally released her power completely.
The backlash hit her like a sledgehammer.
Her knees buckled, and if Serrik hadn't caught her arm, she would have collapsed entirely. The world spun around her, colors bleeding together in nauseating swirls.
“Easy,” Serrik's voice seemed to come from very far away. “Breathe, Ava.”
She tried to follow his instruction, but her lungs felt like they were full of cotton. Using her power on him—really using it—had drained her more than she'd realized.
“I’m okay,” she managed to gasp, though she clearly wasn't.
“No, you're not.” His grip on her arm tightened. “When did you last eat? Sleep?”
She tried to remember and came up blank. Everything was a blur of crisis and chaos. “I don't... what day is it? When did I wind up in Tir n’Aill and how long was I there for?”
“That is what I thought. You also have not stopped since you merged the worlds.” He looked around, taking in their surroundings with a tactical eye. “We need to find somewhere defensible where you can rest.”
“I can't rest,” she protested weakly. “People are dying. The world is literally falling apart. I have to—”
“You have to survive long enough to actually help,” he interrupted. "Running yourself into the ground will not save anyone.”
It was then that Ava realized something was wrong. Not wrong in the general sense—everything was wrong—but specifically wrong with their immediate situation. “Wait. Where's Puck?”
They both turned, scanning the area around them. The silver-haired half breed was nowhere to be seen.
“Puck?” Ava called, her voice echoing strangely off the warped buildings. “Puck!”
No response.
“When did you last see him?” Serrik asked, though he sounded more like he was asking her where she’d last left her keys, not a person.
Ava tried to think through the fog of exhaustion. “He was right behind us when we approached the fae group. He had his tablet…”
“He could have gone anywhere.” Serrik shrugged. “Goodfellow can move through space and time. He may have been distracted by a piece of rubbish rolling in the breeze.”
“But why would he leave?” The question came out more plaintive than Ava intended. “Where would he go?”
Serrik's expression was grim. “In chaos like this? Could be anywhere, for any reason. Maybe he saw something we didn't. Maybe he grew bored. Maybe he decided we were moving too slowly.”
“We have to find him.”
“Goodfellow is fine. He will find us when he needs to,” Serrik said firmly. “And you are in no condition to go hunting for quicksilver. You can barely stand, let alone search a nightmare city for an invisible trickster who does not wish to be found.”
Ava swayed again, and this time her vision grayed at the edges. The exhaustion was bone-deep, the kind that sleep deprivation and stress and magical overexertion could create.
“There are trees that way.” He gestured.