Page 82 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

I suspect it’ll be the latter. We don’t know what became of Tempest, so I might be a wanted criminal for reasons other than failing at the task set forth by Lord Liskaal. Everyone needs rest, and I suffer a painful wave of longing, recalling how the court ladies coddled me in the bath. I haven’t been clean since we ran away from the Summer market.

Nobody has much to say, and we push onward in silence; it feels like my whole life has been reduced to walking. Olive leavens the journey with explanations about our shared nature, answering questions I didn’t even know I needed to ask. I’ve been starving myself when I should be focused on a light, continual pull. No deep drains, just skimming from everyone, always.

“That doesn’t hurt people?” I ask, incredulous.

Olive shakes her head. “I suppose if you lived alone in the woods with only one person, it might become an issue. But for psychic vampires—”

“Is that what we are?” I cut in.

I’ve been called a leech, a siphon, even a demon or parasite. But this is the first time I’ve heard the correct term for my heritage. There might even be books for me to read in the mortal realm. Maybe I’ll read them when I’m sent away. After Kerboros is executed.

My heart clenches. Are we truly doomed, either to run forever or be punished in perpetuity for one failure? Well. Nobody ever accused the Lord and Lady of Winter of being fair.

My sister gazes at me, wide-eyed. “Did no one tell you?”

“I don’t think my dad knows. Rain and Fen…” I hesitate, unsure of her relationship with them. “Never devoted much time to my education.”

That seems like the best way to describe their emotional neglect.

“That’s unforgivable,” Olive snaps. “They have all the time in the world for Iris. And I love Iris, she’s my sister too, but it’s wrong that they just…”

Didn’t care? Regifted me like an unwrapped parcel? I don’t fill in those blanks, and she hugs me instead of speaking, and then we hurry to catch up with the others before they get too far ahead. It’s all woods, all the time.

And I love the woods. I do. But I’m so tired. And hungry. And now there are two of us who need to drain energy. I realize that’s something else I need to worry about.

“Do you feed on anger too?” I ask.

Olive shakes her head. “For me, it’s pain. That’s part of why I became a doctor.”

At least we’re not competing for the same type of energy, but feeding from the same small population doesn’t seem like the best idea. “Do we need to worry about having two of us dependent on the others for sustenance?”

For the first time, she looks troubled. “Over time, it might become a problem. Normally, psychic vampires surround themselves with people to avoid situations like this. But in our circumstances, that’s impossible.”

Fantastic. As I suspected. I don’t ask any further questions because the answers might weigh me down past what I can bear. From that point, we move in silence. None of the others break it, and my feet ache from the endless march. We’ve been trudging for what feels like forever, until we’re deep in the woods, when Kerboros calls a halt.

The lights Olive mentioned have dimmed to a purple glow, but they’re not visible through the dense canopy. Unlike the woods that border Macha’s territory, these trees are lush and vibrant, fully covered in leaves that run the gamut from emerald to citrine. Zeph picks up a rock and charges it with magic so it offers a faint glow.

With that scant illumination, I process how much the ordeal has impacted our little band. We’re all filthy, covered in cuts and bruises, from various clashes with beasts and behemoths. Though we purchased supplies, I wonder what’s left. Our packs tumbled around the In-Between, just as we did. And that means the contents probably got soaked.

I don’t intend to eat anything that could be contaminated by that foul water. Nobody suggests a fire. In our situation, that would be unwise. Zeph drops their pack with a thud, digging into it to check the staples they were carrying.

Their lip curls. “Spoiled.”

“We should strive to leave no traces here,” Taragon says. “If we discard our things, it will only prove that we were here.”

“And give them a greater signature to track,” Kerboros adds.

“Then we carry everything, whether we can use it or not.” Zeph seems enervated by that necessity, or maybe it’s the situation. They sink to the ground without doing anything that could be construed as setting up camp.

“Do we have tents?” Olive asks.

Rosa chuckles. “Even if we did, I wouldn’t sleep in one. I’ll be nestled in the branches overhead, if anyone needs me.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but…me too.” Govannon appears to despise the idea, but he’s resigned to seeking refuge in the boughs above.

“It’s kept you alive so far,” Kerboros says.

Olive frowns, glancing at Zeph as if they’ve personally disappointed her. “No food. No fire. No tents. We just sit and hope we’re not discovered?”