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A high-pitched screech interrupted us, setting my teeth on edge. A Forgotten glaring in the window raked its claws down the glass, leaving four long, thin gashes behind. Razor screeched in return, baring his fangs, and Kenzie cringed back in fear. Guro shot a look at the window, at the white scratches made by invisible claws, and whirled from the room.
“This way,” he ordered. “Follow me.”
We followed Guro through the kitchen and paused as he opened a single wooden door on the opposite wall. A set of stairs led down into what I assumed was a basement, and Guro motioned us through. “In here, quickly.”
I went down the steps, Kenzie close behind. The bottom of the stairwell opened into a large room with cement walls and floors. It was dark down here, the shadows clinging to the walls and hiding everything from view, until Guro flipped on the light.
My eyes widened. The space in the center of the floor was clear, but the walls were covered with weapons. Crossed swords, knives, clubs, wooden rattan sticks, a couple machetes and tomahawks, all hung in pairs around the room, glimmering wickedly in the fluorescent lights. A tire dummy sat in one corner of the room, a heavy bag in the other, and a couple wooden stands with padded coats and helmets stood at the back. One entire wall had pairs of traditional Filipino short swords—the kris, gayang and kalis were a few I knew by name—hanging beneath a crest that read Weapons of Moroland.
“Okay,” I almost gasped, “I’ll admit it. I’m a little terrified.”
Guro stalked to the back wall, where a pair of swords hung, isolated from everything else. I recognized them as his personal blades, his family’s swords, passed down from his father and grandfather before him. They were shorter than mine but no less lethal, a pair of razor-edged barong that were probably several decades older than I was.
“Ethan!”
Kenzie’s frightened cry rang behind me. I whirled to see a solid flood of Forgotten stream through the door and scuttle down the stairs, climbing along the walls and ceiling like huge black spiders.
“Guro!” I called, as one spindly shadow dropped from the ceiling and lunged at me. “They’re here!”
I dodged back as the faery’s long, thin claws barely missed my shirt, and lashed out with one of my blades. It struck the thing’s neck, biting deep, and the Forgotten didn’t make a sound as it writhed into tendrils of darkness and disappeared. Another leaped in, slashing at me, and I hacked through its arm before backing away.
The Forgotten hissed and drew back, melting into a crowd of its brethren. As I raised my swords, a chill crawled up my spine. The Forgotten had surrounded three sides of the room. Guro, Kenzie and I stood near the back wall, a semicircle of solid black glaring at us with baleful yellow eyes.
“Kenzie,” I panted, “get back. Try to stay between me and Guro.” Though I didn’t know how my mentor was going to fight them. There were an awful lot of Forgotten down here, and they were invisible to normal eyes. Unless Guro had somehow gotten the Sight, which I doubted, most of the fighting was going to be up to me. “If you see an opening,” I continued, not daring to look back at the girl, “run. Get out however you can, and don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up.”
“Screw that,” Kenzie snapped, and I heard the frantic zip of her bag opening. “I’m sure as hell not leaving you, Ethan. you should know that by now. Just keep them back for a few seconds.”
The Forgotten edged forward, silent and deadly, preparing to attack. Guro stood next to me, the barongs held loosely at his sides. I snuck a glance at him and saw that his eyes were closed.
Like a flood of black water, the Forgotten surged forward.
Before I could react, Guro leaped past me into the midst of the attackers, both swords spinning through the air. They moved like helicopter blades, blurred and almost too fast to see, whirling and slashing around him. They cut through the ranks of fey like a thresher through wheat, and clouds of darkness erupted around Guro as the Forgotten fell before the relentless assault.
Hissing, they drew back, rallied and lunged forward again, claws and talons raking the air. I kicked myself out of my shocked trance and threw myself into the chaos, lunging beside the whirling dervish of death, adding my own swords to the fray. Forgotten shrieked in fury, falling back to avoid the steel, trying to pounce on me from behind. I stood back to back with Guro, fending off attacks, not thinking of anything but keeping my arms moving, reacting to the dark blurs of shadow clawing at me from every side.
“Ethan, above you!” Kenzie’s voice rang out from somewhere beyond the mass of Forgotten. I stepped back, whipping my sword up, and sliced through a Forgotten dropping toward me from the ceiling. I caught a split-second glance of Guro, surrounded by Forgotten, his swords moving so fast they were a blur. His eyes were still closed as he spun and whirled his blades around him, driving the faeries back.
“Ethan, Guro!” Kenzie called out again. “This way! Back to the corner, hurry!”
I didn’t dare look back to see what she was doing. Glancing at Guro, I started edging toward her voice, falling back before the relentless press of Forgotten. They hissed and slashed at us, still crowding in from all sides, and my arms started to burn from constantly swinging my blades. One of the Forgotten hit my arm, claws tearing through my forearm and sending a spatter of blood to the cement floor. I barely felt the wound, though I knew it was going to hurt like hell when this was done. If they didn’t tear me to pieces before then.
And then, as we backed into the corner with Kenzie, still fending them off with our blades, the press of Forgotten just...stopped. Like we had crossed some invisible barrier the Forgotten couldn’t pass. Panting, I looked down at my feet to see that a thick line of salt had been poured across the floor, boxing us in. The Forgotten hissed and crowded the other side of the salt line, glaring with sinister yellow eyes, but they couldn’t come any farther.
Slumping in relief, I looked at Kenzie. Her backpack sat open in the corner, and she held a huge canister of salt in both hands. Catching my gaze, she offered a wry grin.
“Part of the survival pack for the Nevernever,” she said, her voice shaking only slightly. “Item number one on the list—iron. Item number two—salt.” She gave a small shrug and put the canister on the floor by her pack. “I might not be able to swing a sword, but I can sling salt around like nobody’s business.”
Still keeping an eye on the Forgotten, I reached out with my uninjured arm and hugged her. She squeezed back, her heart thudding rapidly against mine. The black wall of Forgotten had gone silent again, standing motionless outside the circle. They didn’t look like they would move or go away anytime soon, but I’d worry about getting us out of here after I’d caught my breath.
Guro turned to us, dark eyes searching. “You are injured,” he said, and of course at that point, my arm started to throb with the reminder. I gritted my teeth and pulled back from Kenzie with a hiss of pain, looking at my arm. Four long, straight gashes were raked across my forearm, oozing blood down my skin and dripping to the floor.
Kenzie winced in sympathy. “Oh, Ethan. Hang on,” she said, and knelt by her pack, rummaging through the pockets. “Item number three,” she sighed, and pulled out a red-and-white plastic box, setting it on the ground. “First-aid kit.”
Guro loomed over us, sword in each hand, watching patiently, as I sat in the corner and Kenzie took care of my shredded arm. His dark eyes scanned the room beyond the salt barrier, and my heart leaped.
“Guro? Can you see them?”
“No,” Guro replied calmly, not taking his eyes from the room. “Not completely. I can see...flashes. Glimpses from the corner of my eye, like dark shadows. But they disappear when I look at them directly.”
“Is that why you closed your eyes?”
He glanced down at me. “What have I told you before, Ethan?” he asked softly. “Your eyes are not your only senses in a fight. I do not need to see my opponent to know where he is.”
“Damn,” I breathed, shaking my head. My respect for my instructor had just turned into terrified awe. If I ever got out of here, I would never miss a class again.
“How many are left?” Guro asked, going back to scanning the room.
“Um.” I clenched my jaw as Kenzie tightened the gauze around my arm and clinched it shut. I stared at the Forgotten, trying to get a head count. It was hard. They were just black blobs of shadow that melted into each other. If it wasn’t for their glowing yellow eyes, it would be impossible. “Hard to say. Maybe a dozen?”
“Fourteen,” Kenzie said quietly. Snapping the first-aid kit shut, she slid it into her pack and hefted the bag to her shoulders. Razor bounced to her shoulder as she stood, holding a hand out to me. “So, the question is,” she continued, as I grabbed her wrist, and she pulled me upright, “how do we get out of here?”
I eyed the Forgotten over the salt line and narrowed my eyes. “I could always smack them from this side of the barrier, I guess.”
As one, the Forgotten drew back. Just a few steps, but just out of reach of my swords. Kenzie grimaced.
“They do understand us, Ethan. Maybe you could try talking to them?”
I glared at the Forgotten, and as I did, one of the shadowy forms eased closer to the edge of the salt barrier. I raised my sword and stepped in front of Kenzie, as the Forgotten stared back with its empty gold eyes.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You,” the Forgotten whispered, its raspy voice making my skin crawl. “We want you, Ethan Chase. Your life. Your blood. You.”
“Sorry, you already got both a few months ago.” I sneered at the Forgotten, as if dying was something I did every day. No big deal. “And I don’t really feel like doing that again. You can go back and tell the Lady she only gets to kill me once.”
“Not the Lady,” the Forgotten hissed. “She did not send us here.”
Not the Lady? “Then, who—”
The answer hit me like a slap, and I stared at the Forgotten in growing rage and horror. “Keirran,” I said, as Kenzie gasped and Razor gave a disbelieving “Master?” from beneath her hair. “Keirran sent you after me?”
“Yes,” whispered the Forgotten, and pointed at me with a long, sharp finger. “He wants you, Ethan Chase. You have the disturbing habit of not dying when you are supposed to, and the Iron Prince will take no more chances. You will not interfere with the Lady’s plans. Surrender now, and the others may go. We have no interest in the other mortals. But you must come with us.”
My arms shook, and I didn’t know if it was from shock or a blinding, absolute fury. Not that Keirran really wanted me dead, but that he’d sent minions to finish the job. He couldn’t even be bothered to face me himself. Just further proof that the Iron Prince, the Keirran I used to know, was gone. “Yeah?” I challenged, feeling the cold spread through my whole body. “And how do you expect to do that, with us on this side of the barrier?”
“You cannot stay there forever,” hissed the Forgotten. “Sooner or later, you must come out. You are only mortal.” It eased back, into the crowd of its brethren. “We can be patient, Ethan Chase.”
“Dammit,” I muttered, and turned away from the Forgotten, feeling desperation rise up to mingle with the fear and rage. They were right; we couldn’t stay here forever, especially with Guro’s family still out there. His wife and little girl could come home at any minute, and my blood chilled at what might happen to them. “Fine,” I growled, raising both my swords again. “You really want me that bad, huh?” The Forgotten shifted eagerly, ready to attack as soon as I crossed the barrier, and I smiled grimly.
“Kenzie, stay back,” I said, stepping to the edge of the circle. She made an angry, impatient sound, but at least she didn’t protest. “Guro,” I went on without turning around, “I’m sorry for the trouble this has brought you. You don’t have to do anything. They’re here for me.” Though I doubted my master would stay back and let me face the Forgotten alone.
As expected, Guro silently moved beside me, raising his swords, and it might’ve been my imagination, but the crowd of Forgotten seemed to flinch as he came close.
“Wait!” And Kenzie lunged beside us, glaring fiercely as the Forgotten pressed close. She raised both hands, the large, now open canister of salt between them, and flung the contents in a wide arc before us.
The Forgotten screamed as the salt hit them, flinching back and covering their eyes and faces. They staggered away, tendrils of black curling from their bodies like smoke, and a hole opened up through the mob.
“Go!” Kenzie cried, and darted forward, slinging more salt and forcing the faeries back. Jolted into action, I raced after her, Guro right behind me. We hit the steps without being clawed to pieces, bounded up the stairwell into the kitchen, and slammed the door behind us.
Heart racing, I whirled, ready for the dark flood that would come from below, but Kenzie was already pouring the last grains of the salt over the threshold. As she did, a long black arm slid beneath the crack in the door, slashing at her and making my stomach lodge in my throat. Kenzie flinched back but finished dumping the last of the salt across the door frame, and the arm dissolved into black mist and writhed away into nothingness.
“There.” Shaking, Kenzie rose and quickly stepped back, while Razor buzzed and hissed from her shoulder, shaking a tiny fist at the door. “That should buy us some time, at least. Everyone okay?”
“Yeah,” I gasped, looking at Guro. “We should go,” I told him, backing toward the door. I wished I could’ve stayed, talked to him a little more. I still had so many questions and so many things I wanted to explain. Who knew if I’d get another chance? But as usual, when involved with Faery madness, the best thing I could do for anyone was to stay far, far away. “Thank you again, Guro. For everything.”
“Wait,” Guro ordered, and stalked to the kitchen table, grabbing a pair of keys and a cell phone off the surface. “I’ll drive you somewhere safe,” he said, turning back to us. “Do you have somewhere you can go, somewhere these creatures won’t follow?”
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