The Golden Stag ran like the forest itself was carrying us forward, hooves barely seeming to touch the ground as we thundered north toward the Standing Stones. I was behind Garrick, arms wrapped around his waist, my pack secured to my back and the Wandering Kitchen strapped on top of it. Every muscle in my body was screaming from the effort of holding on.

  Behind us, the Barghest howled, and the sound made my bones ache.

  "Mac!" the Stag called back, its voice somehow clear despite the wind rushing past us. "The boon you earned for catching me—this is it! Getting you to the Standing Stones safely. Do you accept these terms?"

  "Yes!" I shouted back. "Absolutely yes!"

  "Then hold on tight, mortal Stagrider. We're about to find out just how fast I can actually run."

  The Stag surged forward with renewed speed, and I tightened my grip on Garrick as the landscape blurred around us. We were crossing rocky plains now, the ground was littered with loose stones and uneven ground that should have made running impossible. But the Stag navigated it like the rocks themselves were moving out of our way, each footfall landing perfectly despite the terrain.

  I risked a glance back and immediately wished I hadn't.

  The Barghest was massive (though that seemed too small a word), easily the size of a grizzly bear but shaped like a wolf from my worst nightmares. Its fur was black as midnight, and its body radiated waves of heat and energy that made the air shimmer around it. Red eyes blazed in its skull-like face, and when it exhaled, smoke poured from its nostrils like a furnace. Its jaws slavered with an acidic saliva, dripping onto the ground and sizzling where it hit as the beast charged. And its feet, I could just make out every step left scorch marks on the earth, claws tearing through stone and soil like they were paper.

  It was also getting closer.

  "Faster!" Garrick shouted.

  "I'm trying!" the Stag shot back. "The terrain isn't helping!"

  We hit the edge of the forest and plunged into trees. Immediately, the chase became more dangerous. Branches whipped past us. I had to duck one fast that would have taken my head off, and felt another scrape across my pack. The Stag wove between trunks with impossible precision, but we were still being slowed down.

  Behind us, the Barghest crashed through the forest like the trees were suggestions rather than obstacles. I heard wood splintering while its howl echoing through the canopy.

  "There!" the Stag called out. "The stream!"

  I saw it ahead—a wide creek cutting through the forest, water flowing fast over smooth stones. The Stag didn't slow down, just leaped across the wide stream in three magnificent bounds.

  The Barghest hit the water shortly after and screamed.

  It was a sound of pure rage and pain, and when I looked back, I saw why. The moving water was affecting it somehow…its body flickering, the heat and energy it radiated dampening. It was still coming, still pushing through, but it was slower now, and clearly in pain.

  "Water hurts it!" I shouted.

  "Good to know!" Garrick called back. "Though I'm not sure how that helps us!"

  We were through a particularly dense section of trees now, the Stag squeezing between trunks that were barely wide enough for us to fit through. I heard the Barghest behind us, heard it snarling in frustration as it had to go around.

  We were gaining distance. Not much, but enough.

  Then we hit open ground again, and the Barghest could run at full speed.

  It came at us like a freight train made of hellfire and rage, steadily closing the gap we'd gained in the forest. I could see individual details now—the way its muscles bunched and released with each stride, the smoke trailing from its mouth, the scorched earth it left in its wake.

  "How much farther?" Garrick shouted to the Stag.

  "Two miles! Maybe less!"

  Two miles. We had to survive two more miles with that thing chasing us.

  The Barghest opened its jaws and barked.

  It wasn't a normal dog bark. It was a physical force, a shockwave of sound and power that hit us like a punch from an epic bass stereo system. I felt it slam into my back, felt myself being lifted off the Stag, my hands losing their grip on Garrick.

  For one horrible moment, I was airborne, the ground rushing up to meet me, knowing that if I fell at this speed I was dead and the Barghest would be on me in seconds.

  Then Garrick's hand shot back and grabbed my wrist.

  Cosmic energy flared around his fingers, and he hauled me forward with the strength of the stars powering him. I crashed back onto the Stag's back, my ribs protesting the impact, but I was on. I was still on.

  "Thanks!" I gasped.

  "Don't mention it!" Garrick said. "Just—don't let go again!"

  We crossed another stretch of rocky terrain, using the uneven ground to our advantage. The Barghest was fast but it was also big, and the loose stones slowed it down more than they slowed the Stag. We wove between rocky outcrops, and used narrow passages that the Barghest had to navigate carefully wherever we could.

  Every obstacle bought us seconds. And seconds were all we needed.

  "There!" the Stag called out. "The Standing Stones!"

  I saw them ahead—a circle of massive stone monoliths rising from a clearing in the forest. They were ancient, worn smooth by time, and they hummed with power I could feel even from this distance. The air around them shimmered like heat waves, and I knew this was a place where the barriers between worlds were thin.

  A place where Garrick could open a Way.

  We burst into the clearing, and the Stag didn't slow until we were in the exact center of the circle. Then it stopped so suddenly that Garrick and I both nearly flew over its head.

  "Dismount!" the Stag commanded. "Quickly!"

  We scrambled off, and I nearly collapsed when my feet hit the ground. My legs felt like jelly, my whole body shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion.

  The Stag looked at me with those too-intelligent eyes. "Mac Sullivan, catching me was exceptional. Your courtesy and respect for the old ways have been noted. I am honored to have carried you." It glanced toward the forest where the Barghest was getting closer—I could hear it crashing through the trees. "Your boon is fulfilled. I wish you luck, mortals."

  "Thank you," I said, meaning it with everything I had. "For everything."

  The Stag nodded once, then turned and bounded back into the forest, angling away from the Barghest's approach. Technically not interfering with Winter's justice and leaving before the hunter arrived.

  Smart stag.

  "Garrick," I said, turning to him. "Please tell me you can open a Way from here."

  "I can," he said, already moving to the center of the circle where the power felt strongest. Cosmic energy was building around his hands pure white light mixed with the sparkling of red, green, blue and yellow stars. "But I need time."

  "How much time?" I asked, looking toward the forest.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "Sixty seconds. Maybe a bit more."

  The Barghest emerged from the tree line.

  The beast was less than two hundred yards away and closing. Up close it was even more terrifying than I'd imagined. It stood at least seven feet tall at the shoulder, all muscle and heat and ready to leap into violence. Its red eyes locked onto us, and its lips pulled back to reveal numerous teeth that belonged on something from the deepest pit of hell.

  It didn't charge immediately. Instead, it walked…a slow, deliberate approach that suggested it knew we had nowhere to go. That we were cornered.

  Garrick's hands were moving in the usual complex patterns, and I could see the beginnings of something forming in the air. First came runic letters made of light, swirling energy that was slowly coalescing into the shape of a doorway.

  "How long?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the Barghest.

  "Forty-five seconds."

  The Barghest was a hundred and fifty yards away now. Still walking. Still watching us with those burning red eyes.

  I had my chef's knife in my hand—when had I drawn it? The enchanted blade felt reassuringly solid, but I knew it would be about as useful against that thing as a toothpick against a tank.

  "Thirty seconds," Garrick said, his voice strained with concentration.

  The Barghest was a hundred yards away. Close enough that I could see the smoke rising from its body, could hear the crackle of scorched earth under its paws.

  Then it stopped fifty yards away from us.

  It looked at us, almost through us with an intelligence that made my skin crawl. Then it turned its massive head toward a boulder at the edge of the clearing, opened its jaws, and barked again.

  The shockwave hit the boulder and it shattered. Just exploded into fragments like it had been hit with a bomb. Pieces of stone rained down, some of them the size of my head.

  The Barghest turned back to us, and when it spoke, its voice was like grinding stone and burning coals.

  "Surrender," it said, and hearing it talk was somehow worse than the howls. "Come peacefully. Winter's justice will be swift. Resist, and the next one hits you, mortal."

  It was less than forty feet away now. Close enough that I could see every detail—the way its muscles moved under its jet black fur, the heat of the hells itself shimmering around its body, the absolute certainty in its eyes that it would catch us.

  "Garrick," I said quietly.

  "Fifteen seconds."

  The Barghest took another step forward. Thirty feet.

  The portal was forming. I could see the actual shape of a doorway now, runic letters spinning around its edges, the center starting to shimmer with that particular quality that meant it was opening onto somewhere else.

  Twenty-five feet.

  "Ten seconds," Garrick said.

  The Barghest's eyes narrowed, and I saw it tense, saw it preparing to charge.

  Twenty feet.

  The portal solidified. I could see through it now and saw the interior of a building I recognized. The Crossroads Tavern. Warm light, wooden tables, safety.

  "NOW!" Garrick shouted.

  We ran for the portal.

  The Barghest leapt.

  It was fast—impossibly, horrifyingly fast. I could hear it behind us. And worse, I could feel the heat radiating off its body, so hot that I instantly felt sweat forming on my back. Then I heard the popping of it’s jaw bone as it opened its wide maw to consume me, most likely whole.

  Garrick went through the portal first, my hand grasped to his arm. I was right behind him, throwing myself forward with everything I had.

  I felt the Barghest's breath on my back, hot as a furnace.

  Something grazed my pack—claws or teeth, I couldn't tell, but I heard the tearing of cloth along with a horrifying snapping sound.

  Then I was through, tumbling onto hardwood floors that smelled like beer and old wood and safety.

  Behind me, Garrick slammed his hand down and the portal snapped shut with a sound like a thunderclap. A spectral image of the Barghest landed in front of us, almost barely visible. It looked at us for a moment, nodded, and then disappeared.

  For a moment, we just lay there on the floor of The Crossroads, breathing hard, too shocked to move.

  Then I heard a familiar voice.

  "Mac? Garrick?" Javi was standing behind the bar, cocktail shaker in hand, looking at us with an expression that was equal parts concerned and amused. "You two look worse than usual. What happened this time?"

  I started laughing. I couldn't help it. Hysterical, exhausted laughter that came from somewhere deep in my chest and wouldn't stop.

  Garrick joined in, and soon we were both lying on the floor of The Crossroads Tavern, laughing like lunatics while Javi watched us with the patient tolerance of someone who'd seen this kind of thing before.

  "We almost died," I managed between laughs. "Again."

  "Multiple times," Garrick added. "In very creative ways."

  "Let me guess," Javi said, already pouring two shots of whiskey. "Fae?"

  "How did you know?" I asked, finally sitting up.

  "You've got bits of flowers in your hair," Javi said, gesturing at me. "And Garrick's coat is covered in what looks like fairy dust."

  I looked at Garrick. He looked at me. Then we both scrambled to our feet, probably looking like complete disasters but not caring.

  "Give us a minute," I said to Javi. "We need to... clean up. Process. Recover from nearly being eaten by a hellhound."

  "Take your time," Javi said. "I’ll get some drinks and food for you both."

  Twenty minutes later, I'd cleaned up as best I could in The Crossroads' bathroom, changed into clothes that weren't covered in Fae forest debris, and was sitting at a corner table with a fresh whiskey in front of me.

  The crystal Saoirse had given me sat on the table, glowing softly with inner light. One-way communication, just like before when I broke into the Summer Palace. She could hear me, but I couldn't hear her.

  I picked it up, held it close, and started talking quietly.

  "We're safe," I said. "Back in Salem, at The Crossroads Tavern. The Stag got us to the Standing Stones, Garrick opened a portal, and we made it through with about half a second to spare. The Barghest nearly got me, but..." I smiled despite myself. "We're okay. We're alive."

  I paused, turning the crystal over in my hands. I needed to say more to her. I needed to tell her while I had the courage, while the memory of almost dying was still fresh enough to override my usual caution.

  "Saoirse," I said quietly, "I've been thinking about what you said. About finding me on my next adventure. About..." I took a breath. "You make me feel something I've never quite felt before. And I don't know where this goes, or how we make it work when you're Fae and I'm mortal and we live in different realms. But I don't care about any of that. I just care that someday—hopefully soon—I get to hold you again. Get to kiss you again. Get to see that smile that makes my chest feel like it's bursting with the best of feelings."

  I set the crystal down gently. "I'll find a way to see you again. I promise."

  The crystal pulsed once with warm light, and I took that as acknowledgment.

  I picked up my whiskey and walked back to the main room where Garrick was already sitting at our usual table, looking significantly more put-together than he had twenty minutes ago.

  “Ugh,” I said and rolled my eyes, “Another adventure, and I swear we’ve come out with less than what we entered with.”

  "Could be worse," Garrick said, taking a drink. "We could be polishing squirrel tails right now."

  I laughed and raised my glass. "To not polishing squirrel tails."

  "To surviving another impossible situation," Garrick countered.

  We drank, and for a moment, everything was perfect. We were alive, we were safe, and we were back at The Crossroads where adventures typically began but rarely ended.

  Then I remembered what I'd been trying not to think about.

  "You know," I said, setting down my glass, "this is another adventure where we didn't really come out ahead. We started by being hired to catch a thief and recover a ring. We ended up trapped in the Fae Realm, nearly imprisoned, almost fed to a hellhound, and we still don't have the ring. We didn't get paid. We created our own crisis that we had to solve. And now we have Winter Court actively hunting us."

  "That's a fair assessment," Garrick admitted.

  "We keep stumbling into these situations," I continued, the frustration I'd been holding back finally spilling out. "Or in this case, creating them by carelessly chasing thieves through mysterious portals and destroying half a Fae market. And what do we have to show for it? Nothing. Just more enemies and more problems."

  I took another drink, feeling the weight of the past twelve days settling on my shoulders. "Nothing good ever comes from these crazy adventures."

  The door to The Crossroads opened, and I felt cold air on my back sitting with it towards the door. Someone had just entered, just in time for dinner I imagined.

  I didn't turn around. I was too busy wallowing in my frustration.

  But Garrick glanced toward the door, and I saw his expression change. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk I recognized—the one he got when he knew something I didn't.

  "Ohhh," Garrick said, his smirk widening into a full smile, "I wouldn't go as far as all that."

  Something in his tone made me pause. Made me notice the way his eyes had lit up, the way he was looking past me toward the entrance.

  I turned around.

  And there, standing in the doorway of The Crossroads Tavern, was Saoirse.

  She was dressed in modern clothes. A pair of beautifully fitted jeans and a deep blue shirt that somehow made her crystalline eyes even more striking. Her silver hair caught the warm light of the tavern, and she looked absolutely radiant. Every supernatural creature in the bar had turned to look at her, captivated by her beauty, but her eyes were only on me.

  She smiled—that familiar, beautiful smile that made my chest feel full and my heart slam into a familiar rhythm.

  And in that moment, standing there covered in whiskey and exhaustion and the lingering fear of almost dying, I realized Garrick was right.

  Some things were worth more than any reward could ever dream of being.

  I stood up, probably too fast, definitely not gracefully. But it didn't matter.

  Because Saoirse was here.

  End of Part II: A Treatise in Fae Drama