Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
No, in Florida—at least my part of Florida—going into the woods basically means going into a swamp. Muddy ground sucked at my little white tennis shoes and I was getting scratched all over from the snarls and tangles of weeds and vines and underbrush that grew thickly between the trees. Plus, I was in mortal fear of running into an alligator or a water moccasin or some other carnivorous or poisonous animal.
“Hey, are you sure this is necessary?” I panted, trying to keep up with Bran. “I mean, going out in the woods like this? If we’re not careful we’re going to fall into a sink hole or stumble onto a gator or something.”
“Don’t worry, Emma—I won’t let you come to harm. I can see exactly where we’re going.”
He turned to look at me and I saw that his amazing blue eyes were glowing.
“Wow,” I breathed. “Can you see in the dark?”
“As well as in the daylight,” he assured me. “Just follow where I lead—we should be getting to a good spot soon.”
I did as he said and soon enough we came to a relatively smooth and open piece of land, which was surprising considering how overgrown the rest of the woods behind his house were. It was in the middle of a ring of trees and it reminded me a little bit of the Hallowed Glade where the Windermere Coven held their sacred rituals.
Unfortunately, that was also a spot where I had almost gotten killed, thanks to Nancy Rattcliff and her mom, who used to be the head of that coven, so the resemblance didn’t exactly calm my frazzled nerves. Pretty much the only thing keeping me going at that point was my fervent desire to be de-uglified and my trust in Bran.
“Here,” he said, stopping. “Now stand in the middle of the glade while I draw the circle.”
“Are you calling the circle like the Sisters do?” I asked. I had witnessed Avery and Megan call a circle of power before—it included a lot of ritual words and candles and calling on unseen forces like the Goddess or the Lady and the Lord.
But Bran shook his head.
“No, this is different—it’s a fairy circle meant to summon one with Fae blood. But we have to be careful because along with bringing Lachlan to us, it might summon other entities as well.”
“You mean like pixies?” I asked, thinking of tiny, sparkling beings like Tinkerbelle in Peter Pan.
“Possibly. But it might also bring…darker things,” Bran said grimly. “Which is why you must stay inside the circle and not leave for any reason.”
“Okay, fine—but how do I know the circle’s boundaries?” I asked, frowning.
“Because I’m about to draw them—now.” He grinned at me and pulled out the canister of salt. Opening the pour spout, he began walking around the clearing in the trees, making a circle with the fine white granules.
I watched, frowning, as he walked all the way around, completing the circle—which was about five feet in circumference. He left a margin around the outside of about three feet between the salt circle and the trees.
“This is where Lachlan will appear,” he explained, nodding at the margin. “Just outside the circle.”
“And anything else that might come with him?” I asked, feeling my stomach twist uncertainly.
“Exactly.” Bran nodded. “Speaking of which, here.” He handed me the paper bag of rusty nails.
“Uh, what am I supposed to do with these?” I asked, looking at them uncertainly. I dipped my hand in the bag and pulled one out just as Bran exclaimed,
“Don’t touch them!”
“Why not?” I asked, frowning as I held up a nail.
He looked at me, his perfectly chiseled features creased into a look of surprise.
“The iron doesn’t burn you?”
“Uh, no. Why would it?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“None of this makes sense. The Suva affected you profoundly, proving that you have Fae blood, but the iron doesn’t seem to bother you a bit.”
“Why would iron bother me?” I demanded.
“Because it bothers all Fae. All pure-blooded Fae, anyway,” he explained. “It’s one of the only things that can hurt or kill us.”
“Oh, like kryptonite for Superman,” I said. “Or maybe a better analogy would be like silver for werewolves?”
“I don’t know who ‘Superman’ is and you’d better hope you have more than silver with you if you ever meet a real werewolf,” Bran said darkly. “But yes, in a way.”
“Wait—werewolves are real?” I asked, but then I realized that was a silly question. I mean, I’d been going to school with vampires and were-dragons and witches and fairies for ages now. Just because Nocturne Academy didn’t also admit werewolves as students didn’t mean they didn’t exist.
“So the iron really doesn’t burn you?” Bran asked me, frowning at the way I was still holding the rusty nail.
I shrugged. “Not a bit. Um, not to rush you or anything, but can we get back to business here? Why did you give me a bag full of rusty nails if you didn’t want me to touch them? And if iron is so dangerous to the Fae, why do you have a whole bag of it lying around?”