very fey who pushed us deeper into the earth? You would side with them?”
Thalia stands forward. “Don’t forget the landlocked.”
“The banished folk?” Adaro says, more thrilled than repulsed. “I’ve never met one, but if they’re willing to listen and die for my—our—lives, why ever not?”
Kurt interjects. “I doubt it’d be that simple.”
“You may be surprised, Brother.” Thalia says. “Perhaps you should speak to them before casting them aside.
“Let’s hear what they have to say,” I suggest. “Thalia, you know the way.”
We trek down the dark and foggy Brooklyn streets until we reach the kind of alley that gives this city a bad rep. Sarabell turns her nose up at the moldy couch where a family of rats is taking a nap. Adaro is fascinated by the graffiti. He sounds out all the letters and has a good laugh, followed by, “How charming.”
When Thalia finds the manhole she’s been looking for, I say, “It’s like déjà vu all over again.”
I volunteer to go down first and no one stops me. I regret wearing flip-flops the moment my feet hit the ground. The water is thick and slippery like chicken soup, which I now think I can never eat again. “Is it okay if I throw up on you?”
“This is nothing,” Kurt says. I can see the faint outline of his smile. “You’ve never swum near Biscay Bay.”
“Follow me,” Thalia says. Her yellow-green eyes glow like headlights down the sewer tunnels. Layla keeps her fingers hooked on the loops of my cargo shorts, and I keep my hand close to my dagger. I lose track of the turns, right and left, and another left, and straight on ’til morning. The rattle of the subway accompanies us the whole way until we reach an open door.
I blink hard against the fluorescent brightness of the room. When my eyes adjust, I realize there’s only one flickering fluorescent tube. The rest of the ceiling is covered with fat fireflies. A couple of them break away from their feeding frenzy and waddle through the air around us.
“They brush honey on the ceiling,” Thalia points out. “Otherwise they’d be flying all over the place.”
“So this is where you’ve been spending your time.” Kurt snatches a lightning bug from his ear and crushes it in his hand. He smears the green slime on his cargo shorts. She avoids Kurt’s stare and turns to me.
“Is this a bunker?” I ask.
The walls are lined with all kinds of books. There’s a small stage centered against the back with uneven rows of chairs facing it. Open cabinets are stuffed with boxes and cans of food. A dartboard and a pool table that look like they’ve had their last games take up a corner, beside a couch coming apart at the seams.
I feel a set of arms wrap around my leg.
“Tristan!” the little boy squeaks. It’s Timmy. I bend over and pick him up, patting the hard shell of his back.
“What’s up, little man?”
He shrugs in that exaggerated little kid way that makes all the girls smile, except for Sarabell, who looks like she’ll catch the plague from touching anything.
Penny isn’t far behind, hand in hand with her boyfriend, who I’ve only seen from afar. Little suction cups pop out at her wrists as if coming up for air. They’re both still wearing their aprons like they ran out in a hurry. She’s surprised to see me, but when she sees Adaro and Sarabell, she doesn’t seem happy.
I shake both of their hands and Penny asks, “What are you doing here?”
“We come to enlist your services,” Adaro says matter-of-factly.
I hold out my hands and say, “Actually, we want to talk.”
As the landlocked file in, some realize who we are and sneer in our direction. It reminds me of the time Gaston Guerrero threw the soccer game and everyone walked past him with looks of disgust. I feel like freaking Gaston Guerrero.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I whisper.
Layla and Thalia flank me.
“No, Tristan,” Thalia says, “this is perfect. They need to know what you have to say.”
Some are kinder than others. I recognize the man I gave my food to on the boardwalk and he gives me a smile. A few bored college-aged girls lift their sunglasses with blue webbed hands. One winks a big blue eye at me. Her friends elbow her and they break into giggles. Their lives seem pretty good to me.
There’s a man with a sallow face lit up by the lantern protruding from his head. It