She fought to swallow back a sob that threatened to spill past her lips. It became a lump choking her as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She no longer knew whether she cried of sheer terror or of relief, and the rising bubble of hysteria in her chest didn’t care. The only important thing was to cry in silence because she couldn’t forget about the creatures out there. The vision of them attacking, their crude weapons rusted over with very human blood, and their pointed teeth rotting in their hungry mouths flashed before her eyes every time she blinked. The agonized screams of the redcap she had hit with an iron coin as its flesh blackened and smoked, dissolving as if dipped in acid while it was still alive, echoed in her ears.

The scream of Troy haunted her too. It had been a noise of pure terror as the metal flew past his face, and she had felt him still trembling when he had forced her to run into the forest. Back in the house, when he had used her name, she had resented him. However, after witnessing what the coins could do, she thought she knew why he had done it.

Where is he? She wished he would come back. Of course she understood the need to scout, to make sure they were safe. These creatures, unlike the bogeys, would follow them if they could and Troy wasn’t sure the ruined, broken tower where they had found refuge wouldn’t be a redcap burrow to begin with. Lily hugged herself and sank in her corner, hoping the ancient stones would protect her if anything did come looking.

She really wanted Troy to come back. If she were honest with herself, she had to admit the only moments she had felt safe were by his side. And the deep silence all around her made it very difficult to lie to herself.

Troy’s dangerous, too. I don’t know exactly what a kelpie is, but he’s as dark as the rest of them.

The rational part of her complained about trusting complete strangers, dangerous ones. Her fingers closed around her pendant, though. Three roses, one wilted and two in bloom. She squeezed until she felt the cold edges of the jewelry cutting into her palm—and she frowned. There was something off about those edges, and she lifted the pendant to catch the light. Two wilted roses, one in bloom.

What? She remembered it was the other way around. Could she have been mistaken? Was she seeing things right now? What was even real? Not even the solid, tangible things could be trusted anymore, it seemed.

There wasn’t much rationality in her life anymore. All the down-to-earth advice of her father’s would not help her. Her mother’s practical attitude would not save her. In this world, only the whimsical tales she had heard from her grandma held any meaning, had any power. And this world—she thought with a shudder—is the real one.

But her grandma had trusted Troy to protect her. She had said as much, implicitly, when she had given Lily the necklace. And so Lily would trust her grandma and her own gut and count on him. He had already saved her from the bogeys and he hadn’t left her when faced with the redcaps. He would come through again for her this time.

Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud.

She caught the faint noise of hooves hitting the packed earth, barely audible. The pace was slow but steady. It didn’t hint at wounds, suspicion, or the need for escaping. Relief flooded her and she scrambled to her feet. The night was fair for a Scottish summer, but still the moonlight was faintly clouded and she had to use her hands to find her way over the fallen stones. Slowly, she extricated herself from the moss-covered tower and made her way toward the sound, weaving among hip-high vegetation.

Then, the hooves stopped moving.

“Troy?” she called, her voice barely more than a breath. She knew she should not be calling for him, attracting attention, but something had made the back of her neck prickle. And why had he shifted now?

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud.

The steps came again, halting, somewhere down the hill. Lily could almost guess indecision in the pattern. Crouching down, just in case, she moved to the edge of the hill and looked down.

It wasn’t Troy.

The creature was big as a drafting horse, all bulging muscle and taut tendons. From her vantage point, some ten yards away, Lily could see them shift and tense, for there was no skin to hide them. From its back sprouted a gruesome rider like a mockery of a centaur, and its glistening blood fell in dark rivulets to mingle with the horse’s. The monster didn’t need a bite or bridle to guide his nightmarish mount and its arms hung free, almost to touch the ground. Its eyes were pits of darkness in contrast with the fiery red burning in the horse’s single orb, and both unnerving stares were fixed in the same direction.

Hers.

She wanted to scream. To curl up and wait for someone to come and tell her she that there were no monsters hidden under her bed. Instead, slowly, very slowly, she began to retrace her steps, walking away from the edge and seeking the meager protection offered by the ruinous tower and the vegetation.

The thing below stirred and flexed its fingers, the claws ticking together a staccato. Then, it started to move.

Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud. It looked for the path up the hill and each step seemed to sound closer.

Lily bit her knuckles to keep from making any sound and kept moving. Deep down, she realized the ruins wouldn’t keep her safe and she couldn’t outrun a horse, but futile or not, action offered a tenuous grip for her sanity.

The thing crested the hill and she whimpered. The rider’s head rotated to look around, bare neck muscles quivering and pale tendons gleaming under the yellowing veins and black droplets of blood, and its empty gaze found hers.

Thud. Thud. Thud. It advanced with ponderous steps, showing no sign of urgency. Lily stepped back, forgetting about subtlety, and the verdant plants cracked beneath her feet. She dared to lower her eyes for an instant and saw the stalks yellowing out, becoming brittle and dead before her very eyes. She looked up again and the horse huffed. She felt lightheaded and nauseated, and for every step of their dance, the creature got closer.

She had no more iron coins. She wished she’d thought to bring the box of nails with her. They probably were too small, and the monster too big, but they would’ve bought her some time to escape. As it was, her hands fumbled blindly for a fist-sized rock she could use as a makeshift weapon. The crumbling walls of the tower were too weathered by age, though, and her fingers only skimmed small chips before feeling out the larger blocks.

The thing was on her. She smelled the tang of blood and the sweetness of decay mixed with salt water and drying algae and her back hit the ruined tower wall. She tensed to turn and bolt, to do anything but cower and die.

“Kelpie,” it said, freezing her in place. Its voice came from both heads, a dying gurgle from the rider and a wordless moan from the mount. Just as its skin had been flayed alive, also its tones were stripped of anything superficial, leaving behind a painful rasp that wrecked her brain like nails against a chalkboard. “Kelpie,” it repeated, reaching out one deformed hand. Its fingers curled and his fore claw ran a feather-light touch along her neck and down her chest. It was sharp as a razor and Lily felt droplets of blood blossoming in its wake. The rose charms hanging from her necklace jingled.

“Yes,” she panted, her heart beating in her throat. “That’s a gift from a kelpie.”

The monster curled its claw, slipping it between the silver chain and her skin. It cocked both heads to the side and the equine one drew closer. It inhaled deeply and fat, yellow drops of pus oozed from its nostrils with the exhale.

“A gift,” Troy’s voice said. His tone was conversational and he approached them, clean of most of the blood, both redcap and his, and more composed than when he had left.

The creature’s clawed hand dropped the necklace to fall back against Lily’s skin and it took a nonchalant step back.

“Kelpie,” it said, more like a greeting than like a question. “Thief.”

“No.” Troy shook his head. “She is the rightful owner of my obligations.”

The creature turned around and left, following the path it had followed up, walking calmly and silently except for the soft thuds of its hooves against the ground. In its wake laid a trail of dead plants and caked soil.

When it went down the edge and disappeared from view, Lily broke down. She didn’t cry, not anymore, but she folded herself into Troy and held on while hoping the tremors would subside. The permanent coolness of his skin permeated her clothes, chilling her to the bone, and clear droplets of fresh water dripped from his hair onto hers, but still she held on. After a surprised moment, his arm came around her shoulders and offered an awkward support.

They stayed like that for a long time.

“You had to save me again,” Lily said when the tremors finally subsided.

She felt him shake his head and his words reverberated from his chest, under her ear. “You were never in danger.”

Lily let out a humorless laugh. “We must have seen different things back there.”

“You met an… acquaintance of mine. A kindred fay. You would call him a friend or ally, perhaps. He never intended you any harm. However,” he added after a pause, “it is true that his breath can be noxious for mortals. Do you feel ill, Lily?”

Her head spun. “That monster was your—” She cut herself, breathing hard, and tried again. “You call that thing a friend?”

A shoulder shrugged under Lily’s panicked grip. “In as much as I would use the word ‘friend.’ It is certainly preferable to ‘monster’ or ‘thing.’”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling ashamed even through her fear.

“You knew no better,” he replied, dismissing it.

They stayed in silence another minute or so, and Lily forced her fingers to relax their hold on him. “Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’ Don’t tell me again that this is not my world and that I should return to Manchester.”

“You should not.” His words surprised her enough to make her step back and search his eyes. “I was mistaken,” he went on. “The events have much to do with you, and you must not return to your home yet.”

“I—I—Well, I wasn’t expecting to hear that.” She bit her lip. “What made you change your mind?”

“Redcaps do not negotiate. They do not trade. They never compromise. The fact they showed an interest in apprehending you makes me uneasy.”

She considered his words. “For interrogation? I don’t know a thing… But Grandma would’ve had answers, answers she might have given them if she thought they could protect me. And we didn’t find any blood in the house, except mine. Do you think…?”

“It is a distinct possibility,” he admitted.

“If she’s alive, we can save her.”

Troy was shaking his head even before she finished her sentence. “The doctor might still be alive, but breaking free of such obvious omens of death is unheard of. Her time is upon her.”

“I’m not going to give up while there’s hope. I won’t sit back and let her be trapped by bogeys or redcaps or who knows what else. I will find her.”

“Finding her might be a trap.”

“So we take the risk. If we know about it ahead of time, we should be able to avoid it, right?”

“It is not so simple. A trap laid out for you would confirm my suspicions.”

“You can always share them, you know.”

“The bogeys act against their nature. The redcaps act against their nature. Therefore, there is something commanding them. I fear I know what it might be.” He averted his gaze and stared listlessly into the night, his countenance evidencing as much distress as it ever had. Lily waited for a moment for him to continue, and then she prompted him.

“Tell me?”

Troy sighed. “Come, Lily. There is someone I would like you to meet.”

He began to walk, but her fingers closed around his wrist. “Wait,” she said. “Is this friend like that other one, just now?”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling in mischief, and Lily realized she had sort of missed that look. “Not quite like him, no.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Let’s go and meet this person.”

With a nod, he guided her down the hilltop, following invisible paths around the vegetation that seemed to part on command for him. When they reached the bottom, he stopped, disentangled his arm from her and took a moment to change. His brow furrowed with concentration and Lily thought his lips tightened a little as if in pain. His form rippled and shifted, the darkness enveloping him and growing to encompass his horse form. It held, straining and pulsing for a split second, and then the change was upon him. The horse bowed his head, breathing heavily, but then he fixed her with his unnerving green stare and she shook off thoughts of weakness.

Lily clambered onto his back, still awkwardly but with more surety each time. She twined her fingers in his wet mane and felt his magic at work, gently caressing her skin and cocooning her so she wouldn’t fall. It felt strangely intimate, especially when there wasn’t an urgency to hurry the process and she wasn’t trying to keep her mind off the fact she was riding him. She squeezed her tights against his flanks and tightened her fingers, uncomfortable, and the magic settled.

“Fresh water is not quite as harsh on its sprites as salt, so I believe you will find Glaistig to be quite comely,” his voice said in her head, conversationally, as he began an easy canter. “And you shall be safe, for she dislikes devouring anything but young and hale men.”

“What?” she screeched.

She got an impression of wry mirth as Troy broke into a full gallop.