Page 16 of The Iron Sword

Razor was Kenzie’s pet gremlin. Originally, the spindly, bat-eared creature with a taste for electrical wires had been Keirran’s, but after the war with the Forgotten and the Lady, Razor had decided to stay with Kenzie instead of returning to the Iron Realm. Like all gremlins in the world of Faery, Razor had a rather hyper personality, the attention span of a cricket, and caused havoc wherever he went. He also hated Grimalkin for some terrible offense only he could remember, which Grimalkin seemed unfazed by. But Kenzie had been able to work wonders with the Iron Realm’s most chaotic fey, and after coaxing Razor down from the bookshelf, where he’d perched on the corner and shrieked that he was going to drown the “bad kitty” and feed him to the dogs, Kenzie was able to convince him to deliver a message to the mysterious Dreamer. He returned a few hours later, clutching a tattered note in his claws, which he immediately handed to Kenzie.

“Dreamer has agreed to a meeting,” Kenzie informed us, dark eyes scanning the paper. “Tonight, at midnight.” She glanced at me, Meghan, and Puck over the paper’s edge and pursed her lips. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time to prepare.”

“What are you talking about?” Puck said. Raising his arm, he snapped his fingers, and instantly vanished in a puff of smoke. When the cloud cleared, a regular-looking human stood there, wearing Puck’s trademark grin. “There, poof,” he said, raising both arms. “I’m clearly a human, certainly not Robin Goodfellow, the most famous faery in the Nevernever.”

Ethan sighed, and Kenzie shook her head. “Not gonna work, Puck. Dreamer can see through glamour. Faery magic isn’t the answer this time.” She considered us, brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Wait here. I still have some cloaks and hoods from that one meeting with the gorgon. I think we’re going to have to make do with those.”

“Cloaks and hoods?” Puck repeated, and snorted. “What are we, in the Middle Ages? Are we going to a séance? Hoodies were invented for a reason, you know.”

“Yes, because two-legs were never smart enough to grow fur.” Sitting on the back of the love seat, Grimalkin gave a sniff. “I am glad to be a cat so that I never have to worry about such nonsense.”

Kenzie returned with an armful of fabrics. “Here,” she said, holding them out. “Try these on. I know it’s not ideal, but Dreamer gets some pretty shady customers from time to time. You should fit in fairly nicely.”

“I’m not going to ask why you have these,” Meghan sighed, shaking out a dark green cloak before swirling it around her shoulders. She pulled up the cowl, effectively hiding her face and hair from view. “And I’m going to ignore that ‘meeting with the gorgon’ statement. I know you and Ethan can take care of yourselves just fine—I am not going to wonder about things I don’t need to be wondering about.”

I followed her example and drew on a long black cloak, pulling up the hood. It was a familiar sensation; in the Nevernever, there had been many times when showing my face as Prince Ash would’ve been less than ideal. Cloaks and cowls had always been an efficient way of hiding your identity when glamour didn’t work. They were popular in shady places like the goblin market for a reason.

As I pulled up the hood, I immediately felt different. A cloaked, hidden stranger, watching the world from the shadows. If this Dreamer person knew anything about my son, they would tell me. I would not take no for an answer.

Ethan walked in wearing a solemn expression, as well as a heavy jacket that almost obscured the pair of short blades he was carrying. Unlike Kenzie, he did not appear to be wearing any sort of protection amulet, and I was reminded that Meghan’s brother was immune to nearly every type of glamour. Except for Iron glamour, faery magic simply could not touch him. That made him extremely dangerous to most fey, as he ignored any type of spells, illusions or charm effects being cast on him. Of course, he was human and could still die from a sword point through his center, but for a mortal Ethan was a competent swordsman, having trained all his life to protect himself from the Hidden World and all its dangers. Even the most vicious of fey would have a difficult time cutting him down.

Kenzie observed us all with a critical eye, then gave a satisfied nod. “Okay,” she announced, and plucked a backpack off the table, swinging it over her shoulders. I suspected it was full of anti-faery charms and bargaining items. “I think we’re ready to go meet Dreamer.”

“And how are we getting to this place, exactly?” Puck asked. “Call me pessimistic, but I don’t think the six of us are going to fit in Ethan’s truck. And I’d love to keep the iron interaction at a minimum, if possible. I’d hate to hurl my lunch all over an Uber driver’s leather seats.”

He glanced at Nyx as he said this, and I suddenly understood. Puck wasn’t worried for himself; he had dealt with the fey’s iron intolerance for a long time, and had adapted to the human world fairly well. But Nyx, being from ancient times, had not been in the mortal realm for long. She might still be sensitive to the amount of iron in the world.

“Don’t worry, Goodfellow.” Kenzie gave him a knowing smile that was just the tiniest bit smug. “I’ve been saving a favor for this kind of situation.”

I caught Ethan’s gaze as she said this, and he winced. It seemed Kenzie was still making deals and driving bargains that made Meghan’s brother slightly uncomfortable, but he knew better than to try to stop her. Mackenzie would do what she thought was best, and his only duty was to support and protect her as best he could.

I knew the feeling.

Kenzie’s “favor” turned out to be a pair of goblins who took us through an elaborate series of underground tunnels that, somehow, led to a drainage ditch close to downtown. From there, Kenzie led us through an old, seemingly abandoned warehouse, though I spotted bogies in the shadows and gargoyles on the rooftop, keeping watch. After several minutes of walking down a long, spiraling staircase, we finally entered a dim, narrow room with thick red carpet and black curtains hanging from the walls. Plush sofas and divans lined the room, all of them empty, though a marble counter sat against the back wall. A skeletal bogey with a pale face and shiny, bulging eyes watched us over the smooth surface.

“Madam Dreamer is expecting you, Mrs. Chase,” the bogey hissed, gesturing to a narrow black door behind her, nearly invisible against the wall. “Please, go in.”

Kenzie nodded, and we stepped through the door into a room much like the first. Elegant sofas and chairs were placed throughout the room, and though there were no windows, lacy curtains rippled against the walls.

I couldn’t be sure, because of the way they billowed out, but I thought I saw movement on the curtains as we came in. As if the cloth might be covered in hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny black spiders, watching us as we stepped through the frame.

I decided not to voice that observation to Puck.

“Ah, you have arrived.”

From behind a large wooden desk, a figure raised its head as we entered the room, then rose with liquid grace and stepped around the desk to glide toward us. She was tall and painfully thin, wearing a black dress that hugged her nearly emaciated ribs, then billowed out at the waist like a bell. Her skin was almost chalk-white, her eyes, nails, and straight, shoulder-length hair jet-black. A surgical mask covered the lower half of her face, and the eyes above them didn’t smile as she stepped forward, looming over Kenzie like a rail-thin ghost.

“Mackenzie Chase.” The woman’s voice, though slightly muffled by the mask, was cultured and breathy. “How nice to see you again. I received your gremlin earlier—it seemed to believe that setting up a meeting today was absolutely essential. But it did not say anything about bringing friends. And so many of them.” Her depthless black eyes shifted to the rest of us, becoming slightly pinched. “I don’t believe we have met,” she said. “I am Madam Dreamer, as I’m sure Mrs. Chase has told you. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Me,” Kenzie said. “You’re talking with me, Dreamer. We have some unfinished business to discuss.”

Ethan stepped closer to Kenzie, protective and watching the woman’s every move, but Dreamer only sniffed. “I suppose we do,” she said. “Though if you and Mr. Chase have broken any of my policies, I am going to be very cross. The rules are there for a reason, you know.”

She turned and sashayed back to her desk, the large bustle of the dress bouncing as she walked. Sitting down with a flourish, she laced pencil-thin fingers beneath her chin and raised her eyebrows. “Well, what can Madam Dreamer do for you today, Mrs. Chase?”

Kenzie approached the desk, Ethan beside her and the rest of us close behind. “We’re looking for someone,” Kenzie explained. “A friend of ours has gone missing. We have reason to believe he is here in the city somewhere. Or at least, very close.”

“Looking for someone,” Dreamer replied flatly. “And does this someone have a name? Is he half-fey? Is he an exile?”

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