Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(34)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

I caught Neve’s gaze briefly, and it was enough to see what she wanted to do. Fight. Run. The idiots hadn’t taken her fanny pack, likely thinking it was too small to hold anything useful or dangerous. Even with her hands bound, she’d still be able to get to her wand.

 

I shook my head in reply. We were outnumbered. We’d have to find a way to escape once we were in Avalon.

 

Neve was clearly unhappy, but she seemed to accept it. She glared at Septimus as he passed by. “You really should be extra careful when we go inside—I’ve heard hags prefer the taste of pompous numpties to even that of the common idiot. Something about mushier brains.”

 

He raised his arm as if to backhand her. Both Cabell and I lunged, trying to block his hand, but it was Emrys who stopped him.

 

“Mr. Yarrow,” he said, all pleasantness as he held up the bottle containing the offering. “We should continue.”

 

Septimus sneered. “Fine.”

 

Cabell tried to edge closer to me, only to be blocked by a Hollower.

 

Emrys walked out to the front of the group, pulling the heavy cork from the bottle and setting it down on a dark stone.

 

“Hag of the Mist,” he said, his voice rough. “Mistress of mists, born of the land of ancient shadow. Servant of none, taker of all, heed these children, answer our call.”

 

The Hollowers gasped as, all at once, their flashlights and LED lanterns went out like smothered flames, leaving the cave in boundless shadow.

 

A rattling hiss of laughter rose behind us.

 

My head had hollowed out again, of thought, of feeling, of anything other than the knowledge of the presence looming behind us like a gathering storm.

 

“Do you . . . do you accept this offering?” Emrys asked.

 

“I accept,” the hag hissed, her voice like snakes sliding against one another. “What is it you desire?”

 

There was a sound like the flutter of leathery wings, and the air shifted behind me.

 

“We . . . ,” Emrys started, then cleared his throat. “We seek passage. To and from Avalon.”

 

“Ahhhhhh . . . ,” the hag breathed out, “so you seek that which is denied to you. The sword of legend, the sleeping king, the tower fair . . .”

 

Emrys’s voice echoed against the stones. “What would you ask in return?”

 

“What do you mean?” Septimus interjected. “You gave her the offering—”

 

The creature reeked of infernal decay and rancid bile. My stomach turned violently as my back burned with awareness of her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pale, withered hand reaching out as if to cup my face.

 

My body vibrated with terror as something—a finger, a claw—drew down through my hair and along the ridge of my spine, cutting through the tangles and knots, like a mother combing a child’s hair.

 

“For a sole journey into Avalon for your party, and one passage in return,” the hag continued, “I ask only for a lock of this hair.”

 

Her hand, her claws, returned to stroking my scalp, lifting a few strands here and there until I thought I would vomit or scream.

 

“What do you want it for?” Emrys asked sharply.

 

“What does it matter?” Septimus growled back.

 

“It is of no concern to you,” the hag replied. Something oozed onto my cheek and shoulder. “Perhaps it is only because it is so very pretty . . . like the sunlight lost to me.”

 

My heart thundered, threatening to burst from my chest. I don’t know how I got the word out. “Fine.”

 

There was the faintest movement as her claw curled, and she cut an untold number of hairs at the nape of my neck. Her skin felt like a dead fish against mine.

 

She leaned in close to my ear again. “For you, I offer this: a secret that is yours to share. They, too, delight in blood and burn in light.”

 

I tilted my head, trying to parse her words. I shut my eyes until the oppressiveness of her presence lifted.

 

“What an interesting child you are,” the hag murmured, her voice fading in my ears.

 

The flashlights and lanterns flickered on once more, and it was only then that I knew the Hag of the Mist was gone.

 

Breath burst out of me as I doubled over, still shaking.

 

“Tamsin?” Cabell called out. “Are you all right?”

 

I couldn’t speak. Not just yet.

 

Cold, damp air billowed past my face, and when I forced my eyes open, I found a swirling vortex of mist hovering before us, its center darkening to pure black.

 

“What is that? A Vein?” one of the Hollowers asked.

 

“There’s one way to find out,” Septimus said.

 

He gripped the collar of my jacket and yanked me forward. The mist circling the opening began to spin in a frenzied ring. Threads of black escaped the darkness at its center, winnowing through the air, darker than even the shadows around me.

 

It was the last thing I saw before Septimus pushed me into its icy grasp.

 

 

 

 

 

It was nothing like a Vein.

 

I hurtled forward through the infinite dark, riding a powerful wind. I opened my mouth to gasp for breath, but there was no air to take in. Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

 

I exploded out of the passage, landing on my knees on the soggy ground. I had only a second to roll away before Neve and Cabell followed, stumbling out after me.

 

Septimus was next, then a paler-than-usual Emrys, holding our workbags. The other men spilled out behind them, fading into shadows as a velvety mist gathered around us.

 

“Make them carry their own things,” Septimus said to Emrys. He pointed his hand axe at us. “Try anything, get even a step ahead of where I want you, and you’ll find this in the back of your skull.”

 

Emrys uncharacteristically kept his eyes down as he gave me my workbag. When he moved back toward Septimus and the others, Cabell took the opportunity to come to my side.

 

“Are you all right?” he asked urgently.

 

“Let’s . . .” I shook my head. “Let’s just focus on this Prague job.”

 

He took my meaning. Our only objective now was to find a way to escape.

 

Neve wrapped her furry coat tighter around her middle. “Wh-why is it so cold?”