No. Way. The goblin from Feyland had not just materialized on the stained concrete floor of the Chowney’s old garage.
Except that it had.
“Greetings, Eron. We have come for you, as promised.” The goblin held up a worn leather sack and smiled, sharp-toothed and malicious.
“I’m dreaming,” Aran said, the words dry in his mouth. He swallowed, and tried again. “I’m not awake. This isn’t happening.”
The goblin let out a snort. “Foolish mortal. Do you think to bargain with the fey folk and emerge unscathed? Nay, you promised to meet us at midnight on the new moon. The appointed hour has come.”
A rank, feral scent filled the garage, like skunk spray. That, more than anything, convinced Aran this was really happening, no matter how surreal. He never smelled stuff in his dreams.
“You’re taking me away with you?” His mind scrambled furiously for a way out. Stall the creatures, lull them into thinking he was cooperating, then run.
“Did you not wish to see beyond the scrim of Feyland, to the deeper realm?” the head goblin asked. Behind him, the other two waited, their eyes gleaming.
“I thought…”
What had he thought? That the next time he played the game, the system override codes would have something to do with the words “midnight” and “dark moon.”
Not that goblins would show up out of a glowing portal.
His heart thumped loudly in his chest. It’s real. It’s real. He took a ragged breath, trying to think.
“Come.” The goblin stepped forward, swinging his sack. “’Tis past time to depart.”
“Wait!” Aran held up his hands. “I need a minute.”
He glanced around the dingy garage. What did he have here? Nothing worth anything, except his friendship with Bix. No cash, no prospects.
And the goblins weren’t trying to kill him, though they weren’t exactly friendly. He didn’t trust them, but something was happening, something big.
Something magic.
Why not go with the creatures? The thought shivered through him, and with it the memory of the boy he’d once been, who had believed. Magic was real, and he had a chance to experience it firsthand.
He snatched up his tablet and opened the messager, quickly keying in the words.
:Bix, I’m going away for a bit. No worries. See you when.:
Vague yet reassuring. He sent the message, then powered off the tablet. No telling what the glowing portal would do to the electronics, but he was taking it along, wherever they were going.
Fear and excitement clogged his throat. Where were they going?
“All right,” he said to the goblin.
The creature smiled and opened the mouth of the sack wide. A moment later, Aran was engulfed in darkness and foul-smelling leather. He lost his balance, and somehow ended up on his back, completely enclosed by the bag.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Let me out!”
“You must pass between the realms ensconced within the sack,” the head goblin said. “Else your mortal senses will be addled beyond use.”
The goblin grunted and lifted the bag, making Aran’s stomach lurch. Bright light flared around him and the queasiness intensified. He gulped for air, refusing to be sick all over himself.
He was set down with a thump on a springy surface and, to his relief, the goblin opened the sack. Crisp night air, scented with spice and smoke, filled Aran’s lungs. A dark sky spread overhead, studded with stars brighter than he’d ever seen.
“My lady,” the goblin said. “We have returned with the mortal.”
“Unharmed?” The voice was silver and starlight.
“Yes,” the goblin said. “As you can see.”
His clawed fingers closed around Aran’s elbow, hauling him to his knees. Aran blinked as a wave of dizziness and wonder washed over him. He was in a clearing encircled by dark trees. Grotesque and beautiful creatures surrounded him, but they faded to insignificance when he looked up and saw her.
His breath caught, lungs aching as though he’d inhaled freezing air. A figure sat before him on a throne made of twisted leaves and vines. She was mystery and enchantment and yearning all rolled into one—but she wasn’t human. Her eyes, brilliant and dark, ensnared him with promises, and he was falling…
No. Aran yanked his gaze away, pulse pounding. He didn’t know where he was, or even why, but he was not going to lose himself. Not without a fight.
She laughed, a sound that sliced him to the heart.
“Welcome,” she said, “to the Dark Court of the Realm of Faerie.”
The what? He shot a glance at the knobbled and glimmering creatures arrayed about him. Those scary, dangerous things couldn’t possibly be fairies. They weren’t cute little flower-dressed pixies with sparkly wings and wide eyes.