Page 22 of The Iron Sword

I exchanged a look with Meghan, both of us thinking the same thing. The Wolf was strong, extremely dangerous, and normally wanted nothing to do with fey politics. But he was honorable in his own way, and more than a match for any monster in the Nevernever and beyond. If anyone could keep a group of outcast fey safe in the Deep Wyld, it would be the Big Bad Wolf.

The only question was, would he agree to it? No one ordered the Big Bad Wolf to do anything, and if he was bored, or irritated enough, he might bite off the heads of the intruders in his territory as much as help them.

“I think we’re going to have to set up a meeting with the Wolf,” Meghan said, sounding like she had the same concerns. “Grimalkin, do you think you can do that?”

The cat’s whiskers curled back in distaste. “I suppose I must,” he sighed. “It should not be too difficult. Though the Deep Wyld is quite large, and the Wolf tends to roam wherever his nose takes him. Dogs.” Grimalkin gave a sniff of disgust. “Might I suggest a temporary safe house for the Forgotten until the Wolf can be found?”

“Where?” Keirran wondered. “I can’t send them to Leanansidhe’s—she’s made it very clear that the Forgotten are not welcome there. And neither am I, to be honest.”

“They can stay with us,” Kenzie said. “Our place should be safe enough. It might be a little crowded in the basement, but I think everyone will be able to fit. They should be fine.”

Ethan nodded with a somewhat resigned sigh. “I’ll just have to increase the security measures around the house by a million or so,” he muttered.

Keirran bowed his head. “I’m in your debt,” he told them. “Thank you both. Hopefully, we won’t be there long. Though I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get into the Deep Wyld.”

“Do not concern yourself overmuch, Forgotten King,” Grimalkin said. “There are ways to get into the Deep Wyld from the mortal realm, though they are difficult, and sometimes dangerous, to find.” He yawned, showing a flash of teeth, and gave us all a lazy stare. “Luckily for you, I happen to know where one of them is located.”

8

INTO THE DEEP WYLD

After some initial reluctance on Keirran’s part, we left the Forgotten with Ethan and Kenzie, after both assured him numerous times that they would all be fine. The remaining survivors of Touchstone were put into Ethan’s faery-proof basement, and though it was a tight fit, the Forgotten were quite adept at squeezing into small spaces and tiny cracks. No fey would be able to get to them without going through the wards, which were strong enough to repel some fairly powerful creatures. Of course, they couldn’t stay there long; even with Keirran’s intervention, he’d already lost a couple to Fading since they had been forced to flee to the real world. They needed a place in the Nevernever to be safe from the Fade, which was why we were going into the Deep Wyld.

“I’ll keep doing research on InSite,” Kenzie told us as we prepared to leave. “Once Keirran and the Forgotten are safe, I think we really need to know what’s going on there. Why these new creatures seemed to have first sprung up inside that building.”

“Agreed,” Meghan said. “And we’ll need more information if we’re going to call on the other courts. You know how fickle they are when it comes to taking action against perceived threats.”

“Take this.” Kenzie handed Meghan something small and plastic, a key-fob-shaped device that fit in the palm of her hand. “It’s something I came up with myself. Since phones don’t work in the Nevernever, this will let Razor hone in on your location in Faery. He’ll be able to find you if we need to send a message quickly.”

Meghan blinked. “That’s amazing, Kenzie,” she said, slipping the device into her pocket. “We’re always looking for new ways to blend magic and tech together, but it’s still hard, even with iron glamour. I might have to send our own engineers your way for pointers.”

Kenzie shrugged, but she was clearly pleased. “If people need their own gremlin-tracking device, I’ll be happy to show you how to make them,” she said. “I take no responsibility for a gremlin infestation, though.”

It was late morning when we stepped outside, finding Grimalkin waiting for us in the front yard. The forest surrounding the house was silent; nothing moved in the bushes or through the branches of the trees. I saw Keirran turn once, glancing over his shoulder at the fey he was leaving behind, his jaw set in determination. Nyx hovered close to him, but her gaze was on the surrounding forest, watching for enemies. If any nightmare creature came hurtling out of the shadows at him, I suspected the assassin’s blades would be the first to cut it down.

“So, where is this trod, Grim?” Meghan wondered as we left the Chase residence, following the cat back through the woods. “I find it hard to believe that there’s a trod into the Deep Wyld close to where we need it to be. Especially since Keirran can’t go into the Nevernever the normal way.”

“It is not close,” Grimalkin responded without looking back. “The closest physical trod to the Deep Wyld is hundreds of miles from here.”

“What?” Puck exclaimed. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier, Furball? Seems like an important bit of information to conveniently forget.”

“I do not forget, Goodfellow.” Grimalkin flattened his ears. “If you recall, at no point did I say that we were going to the Deep Wyld by trod. However, someone owes me a favor, and that favor is going to be called in today.”

He stopped in the center of a small clearing, with pine and spruce trees surrounding us, and glanced over his shoulder with a faintly smug look. “We are here. You might want to step back.”

We all moved warily to the edges of the clearing. Grimalkin sat down in the center, curled his tail around his feet, and waited.

For several minutes, nothing happened. The wind rustled the leaves and hissed through the pine branches, creating a mournful howling. Grimalkin didn’t move, sitting patiently in the center of the grove, eyes closed in the sunlight.

And then, I heard something else. A faint snapping sound, getting louder as it came through the forest. As it got closer, I started to realize that whatever was making the noise was huge: the trees shook and the ground trembled as something crashed through the forest toward us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Puck shift nervously and Nyx call her moonlight blades into her hands as whatever was coming stomped closer. From the commotion it was making, it sounded like it was the size of a house.

The trees across the clearing fell with a crash, and something large and bulky pushed its way into the grove. It was...a house. An ancient-looking cottage with warped wooden sides, peeling shutters, and a thatched roof that left a trail of straw behind it. The whole structure stood on a pair of enormous yellow chicken legs, blunt claws sinking into the dirt. Swaying and bobbing, the house walked across the clearing and stood before Grimalkin, who looked completely undisturbed that one of those giant feet could stomp him like a bug.

I felt my hand stray to my sword hilt. I knew this house. It was, of course, impossible to forget. But the last time Puck and I had seen it, the owner of the house had tried to kill us.

“Oh, great,” Puck muttered next to me. Apparently, he remembered as well. “Look who it is, ice-boy. Do you think she still remembers the time we stole her broom?”

“Youstole her broom.”

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