I pulled the box towards me once again, staring down at the symbol. I thought of the place that lay behind that door and wondered how anything bad could possibly be locked in a box with this picture on it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I slid the clasp to the side, unlocking the box. I gripped the top of it with one hand and the bottom with the other, holding it out away from me and down at waist level, wishing I had a third hand to keep my weapon at the ready too. The light from the skinny lamp hanging on the wall shone on the dark wood of the box, illuminating everything with a gentle glow as I slowly lifted the top and revealed what was inside.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE.

A TINY FAE CREATURE STARED up at me, blinking its eyes in the light. My mouth opened and closed, my brain wanting to say something but a huge disconnect making it impossible.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I was finally able to say, as my eyes drank in the sight before me. "What are you?"

"Jayne! Come out here!" came Maggie's voice.

"Shut up, I'll be out in a second!"

The creature ducked at the sound of my loud voice, holding its arms over its head protectively.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to yell in your face."

When it dropped its arms and looked up at me again, my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed a few times convulsively, trying to get my voice working again. Finally, one word made its way out.

"Gregale?"

The creature c.o.c.ked its head to the side, and I nearly burst out in tears at the gesture. I'd seen Gregale do that a hundred times when he was considering something I'd said.

"Gregale what are you doing in this box?"

The creature didn't respond. He just stood there looking at me. I realized that he either couldn't talk or couldn't hear me. It's like the lights were on, but no one was home. He didn't try to escape or act angry or anything. He just stared at me.

I probably shouldn't have, but I took my hand off the top of the box and reached a finger in towards him. I had to see if he was real or just a figment of my imagination. A piece of my hoped he was just some sort of high-tech hologram or something. My finger got closer and closer to him, but he did nothing other than stare into my eyes. I touched his arm first, feeling the soft material of his miniature tunic, then the stiffness of his arm underneath. He gave absolutely no indication that he felt anything.

I pushed harder, and he stepped to the side to catch himself from being knocked over, but other than that, there was no sign he even knew I was touching him.

I pulled my finger back and put my hand on the top of the box again. "Gregale, I don't know what you're doing in this place, but I'm going to get you the h.e.l.l out of here, okay?"

He looked up at me with those eyes of his and I had to battle the tears that threatened.

"Stop looking at me like that."

He didn't stop. He just stared and stared and stared.

I slowly closed the lid, watching him duck down and sit as the lid closed over his head. Sliding the lock into place, I wondered what to do. I looked around me at the hundreds or maybe even thousands of boxes on the shelves, knowing that there were probably other little tiny fae, some I probably knew personally, sitting inside them.

I had to grab the edge of the shelf to keep from pa.s.sing out. My brain was spinning with the overload of information and lack of information. Is my grandmother a soul-stealer? What happens to these little creatures? Does she kill them? Eat them? Feed them to her rats? The options were limitless and each one unthinkable.

I wanted to take the little Gregale with me, but what would I do with him? Put him in my pocket? He'd get squished in less than a minute. If I put him in my backpack he'd get a concussion from being banged around. And he seemed so out of it, it's not like I could just let him out to run around. He'd get eaten by a wolf or a buggane within the hour.

I slid his little box back on the shelf, feeling the weight of a thousand pounds of guilt pressing down on my shoulders. "I'll come back for you, little Gregale, I promise." The only response was a slight scratching that I may have imagined.

I shuffled over to the door, trying to decide how I was going to make my entrance back into the kitchen of the psycho witch who held a thousand souls prisoner in her pantry. Should I go ballistic and tear the place down? Pretend I saw nothing and come back in the dead of night and offload her horrific payload? Confront her? No answer was coming to me, so I used my standard fallback. I like to call it my What-The-f.u.c.k plan.

I asked the Ancient to release the lock on the door and pulled the handle inwards, the stench of the brew hitting me once again in the face. I quickly waved my hand in front of me to dissipate its strength a little. Through the gray haze of brew steam, I saw Spike in the same place I'd left him, his expression telling me that he was just as freaked out now as he had been when I left, maybe more.

Maggie was back at her table, squinting through the steam, looking at my hands. "Are you ready to go where you'd like to go?"

"Are you ready to drop the whole I want a piece of your soul game?"

"No."

I walked over to her table, standing just diagonal from her. "Why, Maggie? Why do you have all those little creatures in there? It's cruel." I wasn't crying and I wasn't yelling. I wanted to do both of those things, but even more, I wanted to know why. No matter how gross I thought Maggie was, and no matter how much of a pain in the a.s.s she was, I never had her pegged as a ma.s.s murderer. Not really. So the fact that she'd torture thousands of little people was freaking me out. There had to be an explanation.

She crooked her finger at me, motioning for me to get closer. "Do you really want to know, child?" she asked in the most normal voice I'd ever heard pa.s.s her lips.

I nodded. "I really, really do. Because if you can't tell me something that makes sense, I'm afraid I'm going to have to put an end to your little cooking show here once and for all." I gestured to her pot and her shelves and finally to the pantry.

"You are bold for one so young."

"I'm your granddaughter. What did you expect?"

She smiled, revealing the nasty teeth I'd come to abhor. "Trees and apples, apples and trees, I do what I want, we do as we please."

I shook my head. "Please don't start making up some freaky-a.s.s rhymes right now. You are seriously on my last nerve, Maggie ... and you're wearing it out."

"Fate has a way of putting things into perspective, keeping us grounded. It reminds us that while we might like to think we are in control, that belief is merely an illusion, created to keep us from losing our minds in the possibilities and the what ifs and the never ending choices. Fate keeps you sane. Fate keeps you present."

"Fate better get her a.s.s in gear and send me and my friend to the Overworld."

"You do mean friends, don't you?"

"Friend? Friends?" She was arguing over grammar now, and she wasn't even correct. "Whatever! Just send us!"

"Do you agree to my terms?"

"No!" I yelled at the same time that Spike yelled, "Yes!"

I turned to him to scream at him, but it was too late. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maggie lift the spoon out of her pot and fling a bunch of her cruddy brew onto my friends face. He screamed and grabbed his cheeks a moment before he started to fade from view.

"Spike!" I yelled, reaching out for him.

I must have missed Maggie going for a second dip with that d.a.m.n spoon of hers, but she didn't miss me with it. A spattering of holy awful stink hit my arm and neck, instantly burning my skin and making my stomach turn over.

"Gah! Maggie, holy s.h.i.t! I'm going to kill ..." I didn't get anything else out before the world around me faded away, and I felt like I was falling through the earth.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO.

SOMEONE TOOK MY HAND AND tightened his fingers around mine. I knew it was a guy because they were so much bigger and the palm was tougher. I explored the fingertips and felt callouses there. Spike. Guitar player. I smiled. The ground under my back was soft, and the smell of a meadow teeming with flowers filled my nose. I wanted to fall back to sleep and stay there forever.

Sleep? Am I sleeping? Why am I sleeping with Spike? I opened my eyes, trying to focus on the pink and purple sky above me. Puffy white clouds drifted by and giant birds zoomed in between their fluffy folds and soft edges.

What are those? Pterodactyls? Nothing was making sense in this place. I turned my head with great effort, trying to find the arm that belonged to the hand I was holding. Spike was there next to me, lying face down in the very green gra.s.s.

"Spike," I croaked, my voice very scratchy. My mouth felt like a parched piece of desert, and I needed a gla.s.s of water so bad I almost gagged. I could barely swallow with my sticky throat. I pulled weakly on his hand, trying to jiggle him awake. "Get up. We're here."

He lifted his head slowly. "Where?" he said, his voice also ragged.

"Overworld," I gestured with my head. "Look."

He rolled over in slow motion, letting my hand go so he could finish his revolution. He ended up right next to me, closer now, taking my hand in his once again. "Wow. That's cool."

"Yeah."

"Are those ... birds?"

"Angels, I think," I said, realizing the truth of it as I answered him. "Those are friggin angels up there."

I turned my head to see his lazy smile. His teeth made my heart soar, they were so awesome.

"I want to be an angel," he said, turning to look at me.

Both of us just laid there, smiling like idiots at each other for a little while.

The sound of some gusts of wind interrupted our quiet time, and I felt a small trembling of the earth beneath us, just before the sounds of footsteps filled my ears. A figure came into my peripheral view, and I turned my head to see who it was.

"You made it," he said simply.

I knew that voice. "Who is that?" I asked, too weak to lift my arm to block the sun from my eyes so I could see better.

A whoosh of air hit my face, and the sun was instantly blocked. Beau stood over me, one of his wings extended to shade me from the brilliant beams of light that were bursting out of everything.

"Oh, hey, Beau. Long time no see." I giggled then, my brain lost in a fog of happiness.

Another group of wind gusts and a percussion on the earth followed and a second figure stood over us.

"They're in the ether," she said.

I smiled. "Hey, Shayla! Wow, nice wings." Hers were sparkly. "Are you going out dancing or something?" I wondered why she wasn't wearing heels if that was the case. She definitely had the legs for them.

"Get them up. We need to get them in the game if they're going to have any chance of surviving this."

Beau leaned down and swept me up into his arms, as if I were no heavier than a feather. My stomach tickled with the velocity of the travel and then with the closeness of his chest and face. "You are probably the best looking guy I've ever seen in my entire life," I said, not even caring that he knew how I felt.

He frowned but said nothing.

"I'm serious, Beau. You should be a model. Except those wings might be a problem. But still, do they have GQ up here in the Overworld? You could be a centerfold. Do they have centerfolds in GQ? They should."

Shayla snorted. "Man, she's got it bad."

"The sensitive ones always suffer the most," he said.

My head lolled to the side, my neck suddenly losing its strength. I watched Spike being helped to his feet by Shayla. "Look at that s.e.xy incubus," I said. "Do you know how much he loves me? A lot. A lot, lot. The demon told me all his innermost secrets."

Spike sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this trip."

"Don't worry. She'll be back to her caustic, smarta.s.s self in no time at all. We just need to get her out of the Elysian Fields so she can center herself."

Beau adjusted my head so I could look at him again as he trudged through the gra.s.ses and flowers. I watched his face from below, mesmerized by his bone structure. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

He didn't answer.

"Why aren't you talking to me? Do I smell? I'm sorry about that. Maggie splashed me with her skunk brew. I tried to avoid it, but she's like quick draw f.u.c.king mcgraw with that stupid spoon of hers. Did you know that's her anesthesia? A rap on the head with a wooden spoon. Talk about black-hearted. I don't care what she says. I don't believe we're really related. Do you think I could turn out like her?"

Beau still said nothing, and it was seriously bringing me down. "You know, you may think you can blow me off by ignoring me, but I have to warn you - that didn't work for Chase. He probably only said about ten words in two days before he had me hooked, and then he went and hooked himself too, so ... you know ... just keep ignoring me and see what happens." I giggled thinking about these two strong angels trying to be all bada.s.s and blowing me off. "Not gonna happen," I said. "I'll wear you down like water, drip, drip, dripping on a stone and putting a hole through it eventually."

"She has a particularly bad case of it," Beau said.

"Case of what?" I asked.

"She needs the release more than most," said Shayla.

"Who are you talking about, guys?" I asked.

"She's giving me a headache," said Spike, sounding grouchy. It was so not like him.

My neck started working again, so I lifted my head up. "Who, Spike? Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Jayne," said Beau.

I looked back at him. "What?"

"When were you born?"

"Huh?"

"When were you born?"

I laughed. "That's a silly question."

"Answer it."