with roots coming up only to his chest. Maybe the less you fought them, the less tightly they held you. I followed his example, hoping that they'd continue to ignore me. Then I realized they weren't the only problem.
"We are not spies," Marlowe said loudly, apparently to thin air.
"You are in our land without permission," came the answer; "therefore, you are whatever we say you are.”
"Who are you?" an imperious voice demanded. A dolllike creature flew out from behind Marlowe to hover in front of my face. It was about two feet long, with a mass of fiery red hair and a huge span of bright green wings. It took me a moment to place it-her-as the pixie I'd seen a week before at Dante's. Then she'd only been about eight inches high, but it wasn't like I could be mistaken. She was the first member of the Fey I'd ever seen, and the image sort of sticks with you.
"Don't give her your name!" Marlowe said urgently. The pixie frowned at him and a large root with a knot on it shoved its way between his lips. It's a good thing vampires don't need to breathe, because more roots followed, twining around his face so thickly that only a shock of brown curls could be seen. He was gagged so effectively that it didn't look like I'd be getting any more help.
"I'm the Pythia," I said, deciding that a title might be better than my name. As far as I knew, it couldn't be used in enchantments. "We met before, at Dante's, if you-”
"I'll be rewarded highly for this," she said, ignoring my attempt to trade on our brief acquaintance. "Seize them." A large party of shaggy things burst out of the trees, clubs and hide-wrapped shields at the ready. I don't know why they bothered with weapons-the stench coming off them in waves was enough to incapacitate anybody.
A couple of very odd-looking things converged on me. It looked like two gruesome trees had uprooted themselves and decided to go for a walk. The closest had a more or less human form, if humans were commonly four feet tall and at least as wide. But his hair was the color of the lichen on the roots, a bright flaming red despite the dirt that caked it, and his eyes were the same dung yellow as his teeth. He had skin as gnarled and pitted as old bark, and its color exactly matched the loamy forest floor. He was wearing only a small loin covering of oak leaves, which was almost hidden by the folds of his enormous belly.
His partner had him by about a foot in height but wasn't nearly as wide. Filthy gray hair trailed down to his knees, with the look and consistency of Spanish moss. Stringy muscles stood out on impossibly long arms covered in greenish gray skin. His body resembled a cragged tree trunk more than a living being, with knobby extensions all over like stunted branches. Instead of clothing he had long strings of dirty gray moss and a few ferns that appeared to sprout directly from his flesh.
I clapped a hand over my nose and wished that I, too, didn't have to breathe. "What are they?”
"Dark Fey," Marlowe managed to say. "Giants and oak men." The roots had withdrawn as quickly as they had come, baring him to the shoulders. I realized why when a ten-foot giant strode forward and knocked him in the temple with a club the size of a small tree. Marlowe sighed. "It's always the head," he murmured, then his eyes rolled up and he collapsed.
I backed away, lifting my hands to show how harmless I was. Unfortunately, it was the truth. The pack with my gun in it was too far away to reach and I had no other weapons. The shorter one laughed and said something in a guttural language I couldn't understand. Judging by his expression, that was probably just as well. I backed away as they stalked forward, trying to keep an eye on them and also on the root-strewn trail. It didn't work, and I ended up sprawled in me scattered leaves. As soon as I was down, roots wrapped around my wrists, trapping me. The next moment, the taller thing was on me, his breath like a ripe compost heap in my face.
"Cassie!" I heard Mac's voice and looked up in time to see him slide through the weakened hold of the roots and