Page 37 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“But you don’t seem to be here on purpose,” Zeph muses in a faintly mocking tone. “You do seem to make a habit of blundering about, don’t you?” They gaze across the flower meadow and laugh softly.

The sound raises goose bumps on my arms because it’s so devoid of humor. It’s like Zeph hates Kerboros. And I guess I understand why. People who don’t know that he’s been forced to do his cousin’s dirty work might think he’s horrible. In fact, I used to number among them, but now I know the truth, and I have Kerboros’s back. Maybe he’s not my person, exactly, but I…care about him. A lot has happened in a short time, and I can’t pretend things are the same as when we first started traveling together. I fold my arms, making it clear I don’t trust Zeph.

“The better question is how you ended up here ahead of us,” I point out.

The slender fae turns cool eyes on me. “Are you accusing me of something?”

This whole encounter feels off. Why did Zeph disappear before Macha provided our lead, and if they are tracking us, could they have been sent by Lord Liskaal to keep tabs on us? None of those answers are apparent, and I can’t decide how dangerous Zeph is; therefore, it’s better if I don’t provoke them. They also said they know where we are, which means we need their knowledge.

So I fasten on a smile. “Of course not. No need to argue. If you meant us any harm, you wouldn’t have shown us how to escape Macha’s trap.”

“A reasonable deduction,” Kerboros allows.

I hear a soft chime, and then a shower of sparks cascades around us. Emerging from the blaze of light is a small humanoid form with delicate wings cast in shades of blue, the smallest fae: a pixie. I take a step back.

Unlike me, Zeph reacts with delight. “Rosalina! There you are. I wondered if you could find me. Ready for an adventure?”

“Hmm,” says Rosalina, gazing first at Kerboros and then at me.

Zeph lets out a bubbling laugh. “Don’t be like that. This is important.”

“Is it?” Rosalina asks. “Well, it had better be. I had plans, you know. I don’t exist to be at your beck and call.”

Oh dear. A grumpy pixie, one who feels put out with Zeph for making demands. And why are they doing that exactly? I don’t remember inviting them to join our expedition. While I did receive permission to recruit a small team, I had other allies in mind. But now I don’t have a way to communicate with people I’ve known all my life.

Time to make the best of this. I wonder if good manners and a can-do attitude will appease a crabby pixie. “Hi there. I’m Thea.” I indicate my companion with a nod. “That’s Kerboros. We met Zeph at Macha’s place. Not sure why they’re helping us, to be honest.”

The pixie snorts. “Because they’re nosy, meddlesome, and easily bored.”

Zeph laughs. “I can’t dispute that even if I want to. Rosalina knows me too well.”

“As long as you admit it,” Rosalina says. “Anyway, these are the Golden Fields. Home to various beasts and boggins.”

“Boggins aren’t dangerous,” I say immediately.

They’re the smaller cousins to boggarts, who always get a bad rap in mortal stories. So do hobgoblins, and it irks me to no end.

“Definitely not,” Rosalina agrees. “At least not intentionally. They’re just large compared to me. And when one is small, there are increased risks.” She eyes me with a skeptical expression. “Please do mind your step.”

“We’re not lummoxes,” Kerboros says.

Suddenly, I’m so sleepy, I can’t keep my eyes open. That doesn’t make sense. We slept in Macha’s bottle, so I should be hungry, not tired. But I don’t know if we should pause for a meal in the middle of these flowers because the scent is making my head tingle. I blink, fighting the urge to curl up right where I am.

Rosalina pinches me. “Get moving. It’s not safe here.”

“The flowers have a soporific effect?” Kerboros guesses.

Zeph grins. “If only that was the worst of it.”

As they speak, a bloodred flower growing on a meaty-looking green stalk nearby unfurls long unusual petals, revealing a deep disturbing maw.

“Let me guess,” I say. “The flowers will eat us.”

18

Defenseless

This piece is carved into the wardrobe doors, done in two panels. On the left, a figure extends their arms crossed before them as if to block harm. Since they’re without a weapon or shield, however, there are deep cuts on their forearms from where blades have struck. On the right, swords and knives are etched, attacking from all angles, rendered in faithful sizes, so the wielders cannot be seen. While the victim might appear to be defenseless, they could also be viewed as stoic, taking wounds in service to some ideal. Their features are barely present, lending an eerie and faceless aspect. The subject could be anyone or no one at all.