Page 87 of Sharpen Your Claws

“With real money? Not golden nuggets that turn into dirt?”

Pouting, Evera replied, “My plan has been foiled.”

Her smile grew so large it almost hurt. Then Evera’s expression went dark.

There hadn’t been a ring of mushrooms until there was, then Charmaine stood alone. She and the forest where the trunks stood two bodies thick and spaced apart enough for one to force their way through. The world changed in a blink and her companions vanished. Their names caught on her lips, for she did not know if calling for them would lead to help or horror.

The trees formed a perfect circle around her, and in the grass, mushrooms. Perfectly normal mushrooms with their puffy brown tops and pale white stalks. If she weren’t in Faerie, she would have plucked them for dinner. Even her stomach growled at the thought of a good stew, fooled by the earthy smell, but her mind knew better. She had passed through a fairy ring.

Treacherous, nasty things, she saw them during the war. They weren’t used often as fae had to bury dried mushrooms a day before. Within their circle, there was pain and destruction. Debraks were torn to shreds passing through or ratwings disappeared entirely. She never asked what happened, obviously wasn’t interested in speaking to fae about their tortuous charms, but she regretted that now.

How could she escape and what did this ring hold?

Then came a popping sound like pressure released from a wine bottle and Evera stood in front of her, scowling.

“Did I not say to watch your step?” Evera circled her to inspect the forest and, surprisingly, her. Evera tugged at her hand and pushed her head from side to side, eventually deeming her fit and safe. Her chest warmed at the notion and she swiftly stifled the sensation.

“Did you not listen to your own advice?” she replied. “Now you are here with me.”

“Because you won’t escape without me. You are welcome in advance.” Evera held up a hand. She peered through the trees at their backs.

Charmaine saw nothing, heard nothing, not even a summer breeze. The tree tops allowed no light. Shadows engulfed the rays, daring to pass the circle. Nothing moved within, nothing that her sight could track. Evera moved like a beast. She swept around the mushroom rings, keeping herself in the light, but in those shadows, she watched whatever was within.

“What’s out there?” Charmaine felt the call for fire, the frantic thoughts whispering to prepare for an assault. She returned to the battlefield, windswept and frightened. Fire could warm them, keep them safe, or set their world ablaze. Surrounded by perfect kindling, she could burn both of them to ash.

“Our captor,” Evera replied. “One doesn’t set a trap if they don’t want to play.”

“I wouldn’t call this playing.”

“Because you are dull.”

A twig snapped. She swerved. Evera didn’t. A distraction, then, one that she fell for and perhaps would have met her demise without Evera’s keen senses.

“How do we escape?” she asked.

“Iron,” Evera grumbled. “Your dagger or a gun will suffice.”

William ensured they had iron on them. Fae were weakest to the metal. She didn’t have a gun like William did. She had her fire, or rather, she was supposed to. She gripped the dagger once tethered to her waist.

“You must be the one to touch the fae who has trapped us here. As you must guess, I am not fond of iron either. Once you do, the ring will break and we will be free.” Evera faced a slit between the trees, her body loose and under her perfect control. “Prepare yourself.”

A limb speared from the trees. Evera pushed her out of the way. The limb had one too many fingers, each slender and clawed sharper than blades. She couldn’t make out more. The limb retracted and gurgled laughter surrounded them.

“A hag.” Evera spat. “Vile creatures, ugly things, too.”

And murderous, it seemed, as the world went silent. Then two clawed hands pierced the shadows. She ducked. The arms were long and stretched. The skin had a green tint, slightly transparent to reveal the thin bones and veins within. Warts and boils coated the arms.

Evera jumped. The white light from the siren attack appeared in her outstretched palms. Whips of light lashed out. One relieved the hag of one of her arms. The remaining limbs retracted swiftly.

“I think you are doing fine without my iron,” said Charmaine. They stood back to back, peering into the forest where the hag circled.

“That did nothing to her. Based on this ring, she’s strong enough to regrow that, and her other nine,” Evera explained.

“Ten arms.” Which meant ten could appear at any moment. “All I must do is touch her with the dagger? I don’t have to land a killing blow?”

“No, the iron will ruin the concentration—” Ten arms lept from the trees.

She aimed, but they were too quick. The arms were like strings, swirling and curling. She swung one way, and they yanked the other. Claws snaked around her ankles. A hand caught Evera by the throat. Then they were dragged. Charmaine cursed as another arm held her wrist hard enough to bruise. She left the circle behind, yanked through the thin trees into a black night. Evera disappeared, her laughter becoming one with the hags. She couldn’t imagine how one didn’t feel fear when death looked them in the eye.

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