Welcome to Crystal Crawford's official author blog!

Because he could open Nooks, too. I processed Aeldyn’s words for a moment, then glanced at Striker. His alarm mirrored mine.

Doctor Harlowe lowered his hands and looked at Pops. “Yes, I can do magic.”

Faolan tensed. “Teionyr? The FireFae kingdom? To get there, we’d have to cross the mountains beyond Veilwood Forest and Eldervine Valley. That’s a two-week journey, at least.”

I stepped toward Aeldyn, who was still holding that eerie carousel of magical images up in the air. “What do you mean, you’re not supposed to exist?” I asked her. “Does this have to do with the person who killed your parents?”

Pops kept applying pressure to the wound on Rake’s head, while I knelt over Rake’s torso, applying pressure to a wound on his stomach I hoped wasn’t very deep and praying for help to arrive quickly.

Mother squeezed my hand, then settled back onto her pillow. “You must leave me.”

Todd squealed and leapt sideways off the bed as the Fadehound vanished in mid-air above him.

I blinked as what had just been the motel parking lot became a bare stone wall right in front of me. A crisp, saltwater scent flooded my mouth and nose.

I stared at Vannie. “How is Faolan the prince and a wolf? I mean… does the wolf represent something?”

I carefully descended the slope with the girl held tightly to my chest.

I leaned forward. “If you think what these teens are doing is so dangerous, why don’t you report them? Don’t the LeyGuard have rules?”

Silence struck the room as Fiska, Mother, Vannie, and Kian all stared at me. My outburst left a residue that felt almost tangible, a shocked tremor hanging in the air.

The address on the old woman’s note led us out of the city, an hour’s drive down dusty back roads which appeared more overgrown and disused the further we went on.

At Sloane’s statement that someone had let the Dullahan through fifteen years ago, Rake sighed and sat up straight, pushing the hair back from his green eye.

I had already consumed a few pieces of fruit and two slices of cheese, plus a mug of water Fiska had poured for me, when a knock sounded on the doorframe.

“This feels wrong,” Striker whispered, “even for me.” Striker and I sat in the two recliners in the old woman’s living room, keeping watch on the girl as the boy sat with the old woman against the far wall, helping her pack some quickly made sandwiches and other hurried supplies she’d brought out from the kitchen.

Sloane let out a low hiss as he turned to stare at Rake. “Rumors about some magical Traveler? I thought I taught you better than that, boy. You let yourself be seen?”

I glanced back at the Selkie—apparently called Mira—then stared at Faolan. “Who else knows she’s here?”

Striker groaned, but bit back any arguments against me taking the girl across the barrier alone. He could see I wouldn’t back down—or maybe he just didn’t want to argue in front of this crazy Fae woman.

Sloane’s teasing—and Rake’s silent agreement to it—didn’t sit well with me, especially after everything I’d gone through to follow Rake here… and Rake seemed to realize my displeasure.