A/N: Thank you, Stork Hardy, TeamWhoeverHitBellaWithACar, and LaurenHardy13 for the reviews! As always, all my readers rock!
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The light fled, cold dark enveloped them in a freezing slap, and something had jarred Frank from behind, hard enough that he'd fumbled and dropped the jackknife.
Then the something grabbed him, long wiry arms wrapping around his neck and chest, damp stinking hands over his mouth, and cold slimy cloth over his head, cutting off Frank's yelp and muffling all sound, all yells, all struggles. Frank kicked, twisted, and bit, fighting back with every last trick he'd learned against school bullies. Someone grabs you, Dad had told him and Joe, your only goal is to get away. No matter what.
Too strong. Too wiry. Too determined. Frank had been silenced and dragged…somewhere. Shaking fog from his head, Frank woke up on cold stone, surrounded in crystalline light. He couldn't see Joe or Kris anywhere.
Memory returned, slow, hazy. Mom had been there, but when Frank had pulled his knife, she hadn't been. It'd been a trick. It'd been that gray thing, somehow, someway, and it'd wanted his brother. It'd wanted Joe.
"He will be useful." It was a cold, silvery voice, like a hand caressing wind chimes. The sound thrilled against Frank's ear. "Very useful."
Whispery moaning answered that. The air stirred, bringing the stink of lilies, tobacco, and rotted meat.
Frank struggled to his elbows, and froze. Something hunched there, a few feet away, draped in dirty, gray, loose-woven shrouds that dragged at the earth and rock. The only part visible were long skinny hands, blue-skinned and rotting.
But standing over it…
Frank looked up, and up. A tall, graceful, beautiful woman, surrounded in light.
"You're awake." Suddenly that cold voice was all gentle sweetness. "Poor dear child. Sweet little one. No need to be so frightened."
Frank pressed back against the cold glittering stone. The only way out was blocked by the stinking gray thing and the tall graceful light. He couldn't see past them. "What's wrong with him?"
The woman tilted her head, staring down at him.
"It looks like leprosy." Frank edged around the walls, trying to watch the woman and the thing at the same time. That'd been last month's National Geographic, one of the leper colonies in India. "You should get him to a doctor. They can cure it now." Keep chattering. Keep talking. Keep them distracted.
Another, longer pause. The expression on that beautiful face in the light reminded Frank of Gramma Kelly, whenever Frank started asking too many questions about her stories.
Just like Gramma, the woman evidently decided to ignore the question and opt for quick distraction. "You must be hungry." She stepped aside, slender, graceful, gracious movement. "Here."
Beside her was a low flat stone, covered in white cloth and set with stuff that smelled good. Small white cakes topped with cherries. Thick steaming soup loaded with barley and noodles. Bright red apples. Bread dripping with butter. Frank's mouth watered and his stomach growled, reminding him that lunch had been a long time ago.
A quiet chitter caught his attention. Behind the tall glowing grace — Click. The little elf pointed at the table and shook his head, but shrank back when the elegant form turned to stare down at him.
"There you are," the woman said to Click. "You've been naughty, little sídheog. Luring those poor children into that cold nasty cave."
Frank scowled. "He didn't lure us. We fell." Kris had gotten scared when he'd grabbed her, she'd run off, and he and Joe only wanted to stop her before she got hurt in the woods. That was all. Frank should've known better than to grab her like that. Dad had explained about Kris's original parents shortly after the Mountainhawks had moved in — though for Frank, it'd taken reading scary, sickening case-studies at the library before he'd believed it.
Click shrunk back even further. The tall graceful woman turned back to Frank, as if she hadn't heard. "Eat, dear child."
Her words and tone grated. She sounded like Great-aunt Rose, who stank of lavender and baby powder and who always tried to hug and kiss "all my darling little nieces and nephews". Frank wasn't little. He was twelve.
Once more, Click pointed at the table and frantically shook his head.
Clear enough. Frank wasn't about to take the chance. "I'm not hungry, ma'am," he said politely. "But thank you."
He didn't know who the woman was or why she wanted him or Joe, but it couldn't be good. It all felt like one of Gramma Kelly's stories. Gramma had gotten angry when Frank kept asking questions, but none of them had made sense. They still didn't make sense. Why did this woman want them?
"Of course you're hungry, child." The gentle voice hardened again. "Children are always hungry." Suddenly she was back to sweetness and light. "It's perfectly safe. See?" She plucked a piece of bread from the table and broke it in two — steaming, fresh, dripping with butter, hot yeasty smell — and devoured half, licking the butter off her fingers before offering the other half to Frank.
Why was she trying to make him eat? Frank scowled again, Dad's warnings about never taking gifts from strangers ringing in his head. "No, thank you."
She drew herself up, all sweetness gone. "You refuse my hospitality?"
"No, ma'am." This woman was definitely nuts. She'd kidnapped him, and she expected him to trust her? "I just want to go home."
This time she smiled, showing too many teeth. "You cannot. You trespassed on my realm. You interfered with my bargain. You threatened with cold iron,here, where none such may be. You have thus broken our law and placed yourself in our debt." She spoke precisely, enunciating each word.
"You're the one breaking the law," Frank said. "This isn't your land. It's the Mortons' farm. And kidnapping's illegal."
"You are a singularly stupid child. I ask again. Are you refusing my hospitality?"
That didn't sound good. Frank didn't answer. Behind the woman, Click watched him, the little elf's head cocked, its forehead scrunched, as if thinking.
"Silence is not an answer," the woman said.
"I plead the Fifth." That always sounded cool when the guys on Dragnet used it, especially after Dad had explained what it meant.
The woman regarded Frank for a moment. "Of what magic is that law?"
"You're stupid." She didn't know that? "That's in the Constitution. Of the United States."
"Human law." Scornful, dismissive.
"Everyone's law," Frank countered. "We all agreed to it. You live here, so you have to follow it. Everyone does."
"I am not everyone." The woman turned away, and Frank saw other tall, shining figures behind her. "You refuse my hospitality. Therefore, you are only useful as I deem fit. Take it away."
That didn't sound good. She was starting to remind him of Aunt Gertrude whenever Dad used up the last scoop of coffee without buying more. But Frank was certain that this crazy woman didn't mean anything like Aunt Gertrude's chores. "I want to go home."
"I'm certain you do." The woman gestured, and two other shining figures advanced on Frank. "But you've lost your chance for bargaining."
Frank shrank back. The two newcomers were in weird green and silver clothes that looked like the costumes from the Bayport Theater doing Midsummer Night's Dream in the park. But he wasn't about to stand there and let them grab him.
With a yell, Frank charged, ducked, and twisted out of their hands when they grabbed him, got past them and the crazy woman and into…
…wide open space, dark with night. Fields overgrown with tall spring grass. Silvery moonlight. Massive trees laden with flowers and fruit. No time to think about the impossibility — Frank fled down the hill, skidded on loose stone, and slid the rest of the way in a slurry of rock and earth. He ended face down at the base of a trio of silver-leafed trees with skinned hands and aching ankle.
Yells above him. Tall, determined, angry figures strode down the hill.
A shrill whistle caught Frank's attention — Click beckoned frantically, just barely in sight deep in the greenwood. Frank scrambled to his feet and, limping, ran after him, dodging through trees and rocks, tripping over vines and roots. None of this made sense. It was winter. There had been a couple feet of snow on the ground. It was only a week before Christmas!
Suddenly Click yanked on Frank's hand, towards a closely-woven trio of trees. The little elf squirreled up the closest, pointing and gesturing to the middle. Frank didn't hesitate. Squeezing past the trunks, he stepped onto a tangled clump of leaves —
— it fell away under him.
Frank hit the bottom with a muffled yelp, then barely bit down on another yelp as long-fingered hands touched his face and patted his mouth — Click. Click kept patting Frank's mouth and pressing on his lips until Frank nodded his understanding. Shivering, stifling his panting and fighting not to cry over his hurting ankle, Frank huddled in the dark, surrounded in roots and earth.
Shouts and noise echoed above him, went past, and faded.
Then, only then, Frank relaxed, just a little. Just enough for all the rest of the aches and scrapes and bruises to catch up and start hurting again. Just enough for the tears and fright he'd been holding off to also catch up, and Frank muffled his head in his arms, fighting to stay quiet.
Gentle patting on his shoulder.
"I'm okay," Frank whispered, wiping at his face. There was just enough light to see Click's face: huge dark worried eyes, downturned mouth. "I'm okay."
He had to be, if he was going to get out of this — but Frank had no idea where he was. None of this was possible, none of it, the woman, the monster, Mom, these woods, the little elf patting his shoulder. It was all Mom's and Gramma's stories, all the tales that Frank had scorned as doesn't-make-sense…
Frank wiped at his face again. Impossible or not, it all existed. It was here, in front of him, hard and undeniable, and crying wasn't going to change that.
Joe and Kris had to know he was missing. They had to be bringing help. They had to be.
"Here." A soft squeaky little voice. Click pressed something soft into Frank's hand. "Eat, please."
Frank gaped in shock. "You talk!" Then he bit his lip. That had sounded really rude. "Sorry…I mean…I mean you speak English."
"Eat. Please eat."
Frank looked. One of the cookies that Joe had given the little elf, the Christmas tree one. "We gave these to you."
Click nodded. "Safe. You gave freely. Makes mine. I offer freely. Eat, please."
Shaking, hurting, starved, Frank nibbled slowly, chewing, trying to make the cookie last. It was still gone far too quickly.
"My hospitality," Click said, when Frank finished. "My protection, now. Pine tree, sacred tree, chieftain tree. Tree of light, everlasting green. No despair when near. Marks the mighty warriors, the great chiefs, the powerful lords."
That made no sense, but the my-protection part was clear enough. "Why?"
Those great dark eyes looked at him. "Beware questions. I know only curious. Others not so forgiving."
Frank looked away. "Sorry."
Click patted his arm. "No sorry. How else learn? Brother asked help. Asked protect you. You and he give freely. Give royal food to lowly little bodach. Girl-child give full milk cream. All three brave to face down queen." He grinned another of those infectious, face-splitting grins. "My home, here you understand talk. Human land, not understand."
It was tangled, but Frank thought he understood. He didn't feel brave, just scared, tired, bruised and sore all over. Frank wanted a bath. He wanted to curl up in front of the fireplace with a blanket and a pile of beanbags. He wanted to hug Dad, to nail Joe with a snowball. One of Aunt Gertrude's cheeseburgers.
"You're not lowly," Frank whispered. "You…you're a knight. You're more royal than she is."
Soft hoot-hoots of laughter. "Knight? Knight? Mighty warrior indeed, to name lowly bodach knight."
The thought of this little elf in a huge knight's helm — it finally made Frank smile.
"Smile good." Click patted Frank's arm again. "Keep thought on home. Keep bravery." Then the little elf shook Frank's arm, hard and emphatic. "Eat no food here. Ties you here. Makes you forget. Never return."
Frank filed that away mentally. "Are Joe and Kris okay? Did they get out?"
Click nodded. "Changeling helped escape. Queen angry. Make die moon-high."
Frank didn't want to ask. Click had gotten himself into enough trouble for Frank already. But Frank couldn't see any other option. "Can you help me escape?"
Again, that long, somber gaze. "Just little me. No power great door. Only self-crossing."
It sounded like a no. Frank buried his head in his arms again. Crying was for babies, but quiet tears leaked out anyway.
Another gentle touch. "Sleep," Click said gently. "My hidey-hole. Don't leave. Queen not find. Safe. Make water back there, if need. Sssss, ssss, ssss." The sound and Click's gesture made the meaning rudely clear, and Frank muffled laughter in his hands. Click grinned back. "Laugh good. Return later. Stay." Click started to climb out towards the woods.
"Where are you going?" Frank wasn't going to panic. He wasn't. But being left alone here…
"Help escape." Click gripped Frank's dirty hand in his own long-fingered one. "Get help. Promise."
Then he was gone.