Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(73)

The drive stretched on in strained silence. The last time I’d visited the Sionan Floodplains Nature Preserve, I’d found a pyramid of dismembered feet. To say it wasn’t one of my favorite places was an understatement. Besides, I still didn’t have any appropriate footgear, and my thigh-high, wedge-heeled boots weren’t made for trucking through the muck.

But what choice did I have?

I pocketed my cell before opening Falin’s glove box to stash the purse. My gaze caught on the first-aid kit Falin had used so liberally the day before, and I glanced at him, realizing his movements had been much smoother today. The small lines of pain around his eyes were absent as well. I knew he couldn’t be completely recovered, but damn, he did heal fast.

Falin parked in the gravel. Then we both headed into the tree line. At least we hadn’t had the rainfall of a few months ago, so for a sometimes–swamp land, the paths we were following were fairly dry.

“How should we go about this?” I asked as we reached the trail.

“I know where several of the locals usually frequent. We’ll start there. Ask some questions.”

Right.

We walked for nearly forty-five minutes before Falin veered off the path. It was another twenty minutes, this time trudging through sludge that sucked at our feet and undergrowth that entangled our ankles, before Falin held up a hand and ground to a stop.

He looked around, and then up at the sky, as if the midday sun could direct him the way old sailors navigated by the stars. Apparently satisfied, he called out, “Shellycoat. Show yourself.”

I waited, watching and listening. Wind whistled in the trees, birds called to one another, and in the distance the Sionan River churned, but no fae answered. I shuffled my feet.

Nothing.

“I don’t think—” I started, but then I heard a very distinct click-clacking emanating from the right. I turned as a tall, rail-thin fae emerged from behind a tree. His footfalls made no sound, but something under his coat clinked with every step he took.

“You called, Knight?” he asked, straightening to his full height.

The fae looked like a cartoonish caricature of how one might imagine a bogeyman: all sharp angles, willowy long limbs with knobby joints, and a comically large beak of a nose. But he wasn’t a bogeyman, and when he spoke, you forgot how he looked because his voice was one of the most soothing, harmonic sounds I’d ever heard—possibly dangerously so. I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of fae he was, but if someone told me he was related to sirens, I’d believe them.

“I did. We need information about a fae name Jenny Greenteeth. She may be residing in the area.”

The fae’s dark gaze slid from Falin to me, and he gave the slightest inclination of his head in greeting. “Alex.”

“Malik,” I said, keeping my voice carefully empty. The last time I’d seen the fae he’d been a prisoner in Faerie, forced to sing for the queen. Technically I’d freed him, but I was pretty sure he considered it my fault he’d been hauled off in the first place, so I wasn’t counting on him being my biggest fan. I’d also just shown up with the winter court’s knight and enforcer, which wouldn’t win me any points.

“Your green man already asked me about the water hag,” he said, addressing me instead of Falin.

I nodded. Green man was what many of the fae called Caleb. The independents didn’t have a true hierarchy, but if there had been a leader among the fae in the floodplains, it would have been Malik. It didn’t surprise me that he’d been one of the fae Caleb spoke to on my behalf.

“And what did you tell him?” Falin asked.

The tall fae shrugged. “I have not seen her.”

Well, he couldn’t lie, so that seemed fairly clear-cut.

But Falin wasn’t satisfied. “Have you heard any other fae talking about her, or someone one who might be her?”

“Only you and the green man,” Malik said with another shrug, but the movement looked forced, stiff.

I frowned at him. “You know something.”

“I know nothing about her, planeweaver.”

“But you suspect something.”

His glance skittered from me to Falin and back, and he wrung his long-fingered hands. “I wouldn’t presume to speculate . . .”

“You had better start then,” Falin said, taking a step toward Malik. “Or I’ll have you hauled to the winter dungeons so that you have plenty of time to think through those speculations.”

Malik gulped, his whole body sagging as if he was trying to draw back from Falin without actually giving up any ground. “I don’t suppose you’re offering anything to trade for the information?” he asked, though he sounded far from hopeful.

Falin took another step toward the other fae. Malik was technically taller, but that was easy to forget with how much more imposing—not to mention dangerous—Falin looked. “I’m offering you the chance to avoid a one-way trip to Faerie.”

Malik shrank back further, collapsing in on himself.

“I’m offering trade,” I said, stepping forward. “Since you have no direct knowledge, only a small favor, but a favor.”

Falin shot a frown at me, but Malik perked up.

“My choosing?”

“No, mine. And the actual value of the favor will be dependent on if your information helps us locate Jenny Greenteeth.”