You Let Me In - Camilla Bruce Page 0,11

heart racing.

“Not at all,” he replied, and then he laughed. It was a hollow sound, that laughter, dry as a husk and dead as winter.

“Where are you taking me?” I tried again.

“Somewhere you are safe, by brook and birch, deep in the stones—”

“Where is that?”

“In the mound. Where I come from—you will see.”

“Are there other girls there?” My heart was fluttering with hope.

“No,” Pepper-Man said. “You are the only one.”

We walked for what felt like hours, the landscape around us changed again, the air smelled like water-drenched moss, a hint of iron and Pepper-Man. Beneath my naked feet, the ground turned soggy and moist; the trees were drooping shapes with clusters of leaves brushing the ground. I slipped on wet soil and mushrooms, large red toadstools and bigger brown ones that split open when I stepped on them, emitting clouds of spores. The toads were still there, behind us now, like a train of noisy followers. There were slugs, too, and a viper. I could see black bird shapes in the trees; none of them made a sound. The wind was all gone now. The air was quiet but for the toads’ throaty voices. I tried not to look at them, kept my gaze trained on the path before us, holding on to my friend, as if his hand were an anchor, safety in the midst of a vast, black sea.

Finally, we came to a halt by a circular shape in the landscape, a grass-covered mound studded with jutting stones.

“Is this it?” I asked, looking up at the towering shape. I could vaguely recall it, from Sunday strolls or maybe just from dreams. “But how do we get in?” I was yearning for that, getting inside, away from the dark woods, the viper and the toads. I pictured a feast of epic proportions: roughly heaved tables, pigs roasting on spits, like the ones I had read about in my fairytale books.

“It’s easy,” Pepper-Man said and pulled me along, and off we went, circling the mound counterclockwise, one time, two times, three times … My feet were beginning to hurt by then, and I fought to keep up with his strides. Twigs and thorny underbrush whipped my calves red and my stomach ached with hunger. Still, I trusted Pepper-Man and felt sure some great reward would follow at the end.

He had said so, hadn’t he?

As we completed the third circle, a rumbling sound rose from the ground, and the mound split open like a ripe plum, a gash ran down its side, wet dirt fell in clusters from the edges, and stones and vegetation came tumbling down. I cried out and hid my face against Pepper-Man’s body, flinging my arms around his waist.

A chuckle purred deep in his chest, and his hand landed on top of my head.

“Welcome to the mound, little princess,” he said. “Fear not, but look at the wonders.” I dried tears from my face with the back of my hand, looked up at him, my tall, pale friend, and tried for a tiny smile. “My tribe is here to welcome you, all the brothers and sisters of the mound.”

They came climbing out of the broken earth then, carrying torches and gifts. Limbs long and thin, hair ragged and braided. Fur and claws, teeth and nails, feather and bones.

The faeries.

First came a tall and spindly woman, carrying a wooden bowl. Her head was bald but for a single white braid, her body shrouded in silk. Her eyes glittered like black jewels; a brown spider spun by her pointed left ear.

“I bring you milk to drink, child,” her soft voice said in my head. She placed the bowl by my feet and took a few steps back.

Next came a man with a long, narrow face. His eyes were slanted and golden brown, his hair a thick mane of red. His clothes, or whatever was left of them, were brown and torn at the seams. A bushy tail hung between his thighs. In his hands, he held a silver tray stacked with soft white cakes.

“I bring you cakes of morning dew,” he said inside my head. His voice was dark, like thunderstorms, his teeth were sharp and very white. The fingernails that touched the tray were curved and very black. He placed the tray at my feet and stepped back.

The next one to approach me had a wreath of wild roses. She was as small as a child, but had the face of a crone. Her dark eyes peered up