The Edge of Strange Hollow by Gabrielle Byrne (great book club books txt) 📗

Faery Queen—that would make her get back in the Alcyon sea and swim.

She led the way, moving as fast as she could. She had no idea how much time was left, but she knew it wasn’t much. She tried to tally the time it had taken to reach the Valkyrie—to fly across the sea to the far cliffs. How long had they been in the water? How many hours had passed since dawn?

How many more would it take to reach the Faery Queen again?

Limbs heavy with exhaustion, they ran for the dilapidated dock, stumbling over cobbles and roots around the uneven shoreline. Mack was on her heels, with Nula and Dog pushing them forward. When the dock came into view, she put on a burst of speed, reaching into her pocket to close her fist around the small blue bottle.

Would the Faery Queen have the information she needed? Would it be enough? And how did the promise of Prudence Barebone weave into this mess? It did—she was sure of it. That promise had something to do, not just with the Soul Jar, but with all the maledictions. Which meant it involved her parents.

If she could just figure it out, maybe she could help all of them—in the wood and out. One thing was for sure. As soon as she got out of this mess with the faeries, she would sit down with Mack and Nula, tell them what the witch had told her, and take another good look at that book.

Nula was clanging the bell at the end of the dock like her life depended on it. Poppy had never seen the pooka so agitated. Maybe because she always turns into something else and runs away when she’s upset. One day, Nula would have to choose her alternate form, as all pookas did—the form she would spend at least half her adult life in. Poppy wondered what her friend would choose. She hoped she would be around to see it.

The Boatman rose, silent and threatening as ever. Almost gleeful, he held out his hand. Perhaps he thought she wouldn’t have the coins to pay.

She wasn’t sorry to disappoint him.

They suffered through the ride, though this time he took the easy, paid-full-price part of the river. As easy as it ever got anyway, and as soon as they stumbled out, they ran again, racing through the wood—walking only long enough to catch their breath, before they ran again. Poppy searched the wood for the Rowan Gate that marked the entry to the Faery Queen’s territory. She could almost feel the passage of time now. It ticked through her entire body, kicking her pulse off its normal rhythm like a downbeat drum.

How much longer? An hour … less? A few minutes?

Please let us get there in time, Poppy begged the Grimwood. Please let her be forgiving if we’re late. Let her be so impressed with the Valkyries’ song that she tells us everything she knows. Let my parents be safe. The Faery Queen will know where the Soul Jar is … and once we have it, we’ll free my parents. She’ll tell us where it is. We’ll get there in time. She’ll tell us where it is. We’ll get there in time.

Poppy’s thoughts flew ahead of her with wings that were soft and full of promises.

The queen was waiting at the gate—the very picture of a peaceful welcoming, with white flowers in her straight black hair. She was flanked on either side by her guards, still as stone in the shadows of the great Rowan arch.

The queen peered into the wood, and in her palm sat a huge hourglass filled with sand. Poppy could see, even from a distance, that only the tiniest bit of sand remained.

As they ran, time seemed to slow. Poppy couldn’t look away from the Faery Queen’s dark eyes. Poppy’s heart rose into her throat as they closed in, sinking again as she saw the last few grains of sand fall. A bell tolled, shaking the trees.

“No!” Poppy shouted.

The queen’s expression grew smug and satisfied, and she clapped her hands like a child as they skidded to a stop at her feet. “You’re late,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re too late.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Faery Queen grinned at them—a flower, overripe and oversweet. “You see,” she explained. “I knew you couldn’t do it. I knew that I would get my wish.”

“But we did do it,” Poppy exclaimed at the same time that Mack cried, “A few seconds! That’s all—just seconds.”

“As if that matters to me,” the queen said, turning to Mack. “You’re like all the rest of your kind, aren’t you? So concerned with doing right,” her voice turned mocking. “Well! See where it gets you? Nowhere!”

Mack crossed his arms. “It keeps our hearts clean. Unlike yours.”

“Pish. What do I want with a clean heart? A heart is there to be used—like any other thing in the world. Useful, until it’s used up.” She stepped forward from the line of her guards.

Poppy’s hands had grown cold. She let one fall to Eta’s head, drawing Dog close for comfort. She had lost. What would the queen take? Would she make Poppy become a servant in the faery court? Poppy gritted her teeth. If she did, Mack would help get word to the Holly Oak—she was sure of it. Dog leaned into her, muscles quivering.

There were more faery guards now. And where were those giant spiders with their creepy handmaidens spinning out their spider silk?

The queen strolled around Mack, one pointed finger trailing over his back as she passed. He shivered. “Let me tell you something for free, young man. Keeping your heart clean will not help you. Following the rules will not help you. If you want to win, you need to—”

Mack shook his head. “Cheat? Steal? Turn away from what’s right?”

“Milksop! No. If you want to win, you must learn to leverage.”

Poppy scoffed. “What does that even mean?”

The queen’s expression darkened, the shadows under her eyes deepening as she shifted