Chapter 7

Aster shivered, the torch in his hand making ghosts of his shadow. Dust had settled over smooth hewn stone of the labyrinth catacombs, each footprint they left desecrating the place. One hundred seventy-five years since he'd set foot in this place and it still felt sacrilegious to disturb the dirt. They should have visited – would have visited, if this weren't the figurative gateway to hell. One of the outer circles, maybe. That Dante couldn't count to save his life; there were far more than nine.

Frostbite trailed behind him, taking everything in like a tourist. "I'm not sure I've ever met a fairy besides Tooth."

"Fae, not fairy." Aster snapped. "Don't let anyone else hear you make that mistake."

Jack held his hands up in surrender. Bunny sighed, glancing around for a landmark. They should have made that map when they'd had the chance.

"The sooner we get out of here the better."

"I thought you liked being underground."

"Not in a tomb." It's not her tomb, he told himself. She wasn't there, never was. There wasn't anything left.

They came to a high ceilinged columbarium, three archways adjacent to the one they'd just come from. Ornate carvings crawled up the walls, trees with knotted roots, creatures that Aster didn't even recognize. Their empty stone eyes still seemed to stare through him while the iron boxes inurned in the wall weighed down on him.

"Found it. One of us should circle back and let the others know." He lifted the torch higher, squinting at a recess at the top of the wall. "You know, I never noticed the writing up there. I wonder—"

Jack grabbed the torch from him and took a running start at the wall, using his staff to vault to the top.

Bunny shook his head as Frostbite lit the trench of oil circling the room by the ceiling. "Remind me to never take you to Church."

Jack knelt in front of the stone. "We've been wandering around in the dark for hours now, I'm bored."

"So what's it say, kid?"

"The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might:

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright—

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,

Because he thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

After the day was done—"

Aster sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ya can't read, can you, Frostbite?"

Jack scoffed. "Yes, I can read — in English. This is like, Old Gaelic or Latin or something."

"Ya could have just said so, ya nut."

"Yeah, but this was way more fun," he hopped down to the floor.

"Three hundred years and you only know one language?"

"I can speak a lot of languages, I only read English. Anyway, no one speaks Latin anymore."

More lights emerged from the tunnel behind him, Tooth and Sandy blinking as their eyes adjusted to the increased light.

"Did you find anything?" Tooth asked.

Jack nodded. "I think it's a tomb for a tree spirit. Forest spirit, even."

"What?" Bunny said. "You said you couldn't read it!"

"I can't, but the tree motif was kinda a dead giveaway."

Aster let out an exasperated growl, his paws clenching in a strangling motion at Frost's throat. North entered, holding his torch high.

"Good, we found it. Sandy and I will speak to Seelie Court, Tooth will speak to forest guardians and solitary Fae. Bunny, you take Jack and speak to Unseelie Court."

"Whoa, whoa – North, are you serious? Sending the kid to the Winter Court? Best case, he'll never make it out of there. Worst case, he'll start a war."

North shook his head. "Fae are not strong enough to fight war. You will keep Jack safe, you know court politics. They will respond better to creature of spring if winter is with him. Jack, you listen to Bunny. We meet back at Santoff Clausen later."

"Now what are the rules again, Snowflake?" Bunny drilled.

Jack rolled his eyes, counting off his fingers.

"Do not ask for their names. Do not give my name. Do not bleed. If I bleed, don't let it fall on the ground. Don't eat or drink anything. If anyone makes a pass at me, I am to run like hell. Don't dance with them. Don't sing with them. Avoid music in general. Be as polite as inhumanly possible, but don't say 'thank you.'

"Don't let them know how much we really know — which shouldn't be too hard since I don't know anything. Avoid the topic of death and anything I care about. Don't mention changelings, Roanoke or the battle of 1837. Don't bet, imply a bet, play a game, or tease them. Avoid the topic of leprechauns and banshees at all costs."

"And?"

Jack pressed his lips into a thin line while he tried to recall and fill in the blanks. "The… Standard Lady Rules?"

"Good boy," he nodded his approval. "Those would be?"

"Do not ask about or comment on age, body mass, body parts, grey hair, or lady things I don't even want to think about that the perverted bunny deemed necessary to mention."

"Right."

Aster walked ahead, raising the torch higher to peer ahead. He winced as the fire singed his ears again, wishing for a flashlight. He and North had argued over which would insult the Unseelie Court more; fire or technology. North had won in the end, although Aster knew the man truly didn't care about the Court's feelings. Honestly, he'd probably agreed with Aster that fire was more insulting and sent him with that out of principal.

Ice crackled behind him, Frost absentmindedly leaving a trail on the cavern wall.

"So… are you going to tell me what happened with North and the Fae, or is that just going to be the elephant in the room till I screw up again?"

He sighed. "No, you should know. But not here, not now. They might be listening. Remind me sometime, when we've got a minute and we're somewhere safe."

They approached the entry now, broad doors woven together from bleached branches.

"They like white." Bunny explained. "It reminds them of death. Ash, bone…"

"And snow."

"It stands out in the darkness, if that helps any." The doors creaked open for them.

"Remember what I told you."

Jack nodded sagely. "Standard Lady Rules."

North glanced at the grandfather clock for the thousandth time that night. They hadn't seen hide or hair of Jack and Bunny since they parted ways twelve hours ago. Meeting with the Seelie court had gone as well as expected, their gilded manners taking a book to say what could have been said in a sentence, if he didn't need to verify every possible meaning of their words.

They didn't know what had happened to the parents or Pitch and they didn't care. Fae could not lie, but they were masters of deception nevertheless. So when the Seelie court boasted of their virtue, they believed every word they said. They chewed on lavender to cover up the blood and wine on their breaths, assaults were painted as epic and tragic romances, kidnapped children were compared to summer flowers that blossomed just for them and withered away too soon.

The Unseelie court on the other hand made no such efforts to deceive themselves.

The rest of them sat around a fire, mugs of cocoa in their hands, waiting for their missing friends. North glanced at the clock again. Twelve hours and five minutes. Moon, he never should have sent Jack.

"Oh, what a disaster." Tooth sighed, seated on the floor in front of Sandy's chair as he and mini fairies preened bark and leaves from her feathers. Sandy smacked away elves trying to steal feathers, not once looking up from his task.

She glanced towards the door again. "Should we go looking for them?"

Familiar voices came echoing down the hall, angry shouts nearly drowning out Phil's cries. 'They're here, sir.'

"No need, Tooth."

"If'n ya'd just listened—"

"You said not to ask for their names, you didn't say anything about asking for their pronouns. Also, bite me."

"Daddy's home!" she laughed as the child scrambled into the kitchen, clamoring onto a barstool. "Daddy!"

The man briefly glanced over at his son, placing the groceries on the counter. "Hey, Billy." The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her back straightened. Tired. Discontent. Do not engage.

Billy saw none of this. "Daddy, I made a friend today!"

"Did you?" The man didn't look up from the fridge. Maybe she was wrong.

"She's real nice and pretty!" they couldn't all be like her Father, right?

"I thought girls had cooties." He said, voice dripping with disdain. No, this wasn't good. she picked at her cuticles, fear rising in her throat. Billy, stop.

"Not Avy. She came home with me today. "

He looked his son in the eye. "Avy is not a name, son."

"Is too. It's her name. Tell him, Avy

"No one's there, Billy." His voice was growing hard.

Billy shook his head. "No, Avy is—"

She jumped as the slap echoed throughout the apartment. Tears stung the child's eyes, his jaw locked shut.

"There's no one here. Avy is not a name. You're too old for imaginary friends and I won't have you telling lies. Put these groceries away. I'll be back later." He stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Billy remained frozen until his father was gone, eyes trained on the floor. They listened in silence to his footsteps thunder down the stairs, unmoving until they heard the car start up outside and fade away.

Finally he looked up, unsure if she would still be there. "What happened, Avy?" he whispered, his voice wavering.

"I think," she swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "He couldn't see me. I think you're the only one who can."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You're the first one who saw me since…" she couldn't finish the sentence, not to him. How did you tell a child that you were dead? She sat down beside him, stroking his hair back. "Does – does he hit you a lot, Billy?"

His eyes flitted back down, shoulders hung. "He's not home much." That was a yes.

"Where is your mama?"

"Daddy says she went away." It came out as a question, though, an uncertain memory. "She was sick I think, but she said she was coming back. I asked daddy but…"

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

"He gets sad and angry."

There had always been her own doubt about her mother, if the woman had really abandoned Avery and May with their father, or if the man had deposited her body in one of the swamps he said no one ever came out of. That had been one of his favorite veiled threats, 'there are places, girls, where no one ever comes back from. If you got lost there, they'd never find you."

Maybe she and Billy could hide there.