We huddled under the tarp as the truck lurched forward, the lack of functional shocks making us bounce around the bed like rubber balls. After the truck had completed a few wobbly turns, Max peeked out from underneath the tarp.
“All clear,” he announced, and we threw off the stinking cover, sucking in lungfuls of clean, sweet air. Jerome glanced over his shoulder, his lowered brows telling us that he’d rather we remained hidden, but kept driving. After an hour or so, Jerome pulled off the road, going down a dirt trail and into the surrounding woods until the trees were too dense to go any further. Jerome threw the truck into park, and we clambered out of the bed.
“C’mon,” Jerome said after he’d gotten out of the cab. “There’s a cave down this way. We can hide out there for a while.”
With that, Jerome started down the trail, the three of us following. The path soon faded away to nothing, and we picked our way through the trees. It had rained recently, and the rain coupled with the fallen leaves had made the forest floor slick and muddy. As we beat our way through the underbrush, I tried identifying the trees we passed. There were hemlocks, maples, and pines aplenty, but not an oak in sight.
“What’s that?” Jerome said, having overheard my muttering.
“There aren’t any oaks here,” I repeated, a bit louder. “The oaks are Micah’s allies.” I clutched my oak leaf and acorn token, wondering if I’d see an oak anytime soon. I had no idea if an oak in the Mundane realm could get a message to one of its brethren in the Otherworld, but I was sure as hell going to try.
“Micah,” Jerome repeated. “Is that the guy you’re always with at The Promenade?”
“That ‘guy’ is my husband,” I snapped. “His full name is Micah Silverstrand, Lord of Silver.”
Jerome whistled. “Excuse me, Princess Silver.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” I maneuvered to avoid a tree branch that Max had let go of. Jerome caught it and gestured for me to go first. “Thanks. Anyway, I don’t mean to be such a jerk. Being a prisoner kinda got on my nerves.”
“I hear ya. Peacekeepers aren’t the best hosts.”
“And it’s Lady.”
Jerome’s brow wrinkled. “Huh?”
“My title. It’s Lady Silverstrand, not Princess Silver.”
Jerome laughed, roaring almost as loudly as the truck had, and I felt another weight lift from my shoulders. Dad had already escaped from whatever cell the Peacekeepers had put him in, and he had sent Jerome to help us. Even though we were trudging through an oakless forest a million miles away from the Whispering Dell, I let myself believe that I would be home with Micah soon.
Eventually we made it to a rocky outcrop and the cave Jerome had mentioned. Only this cave was more than just a hollow space. While the interior still had a dirt floor and rock walls, it also had desks, cabinets, and a few cots pushed against the far end.
“Is this a resistance base?” Sadie asked, hesitantly touching her fingertips to the metal lockers that lined the wall.
“More like a hideout,” Jerome explained. “We don’t have any electricity, running water, web or com links, so we’re totally off the grid. We can hide here for a while, and plan our next move.” We nodded as one, then Max ventured deeper into the cave.
“Got any fey stones?” Max asked, peering into the murky depths.
“None of those, either,” Jerome replied. He opened a desk drawer and produced a few old-fashioned, battery-powered flashlights. “This location is in a sniffer zone.”
“Sniffer?” I asked.
“Peacekeepers have teams trained to sense magic,” Jerome explained. “They’re made up of learned magicians. They canvas areas in set routes via aerial and ground transport, and report on where they sense unauthorized magic usage.”
Unauthorized. Ha. As if I needed the government’s approval to be myself. “Is that how you found that man, the day we met on Real Estate Row?”
Jerome dropped his gaze—I bet he was hoping that I’d forgotten how he sentenced a man to death while simultaneously hitting on me. “Yeah, that’s exactly how we found him.”
“Did he die?” I pressed. “Or did you help him, like you’re helping us?”
“Wolanski was not a good man,” Jerome said.
“You ordered his death,” I said, backing away from Jerome. “All for running a gambling pool?”
“You know how he ran that gambling pool? How he knew which bets to back?” Jerome shot back. “He bled out kids and read the future in their blood. Little kids!” Realizing that shouting wasn’t the best way to lie low, he continued in a softer tone, “Resistance or not, that sick bastard deserved what he got.”