Vera jolted when she sensed someone hovering over her. Airlea backed away just in time to avoid Vera bashing heads with her. Which probably would’ve crushed the nymph’s skull.

“They’ve thrown Addamas from the mountain,” Airlea informed her.

Vera jumped to her feet. “Threw him off the mountain?”

“They bound his arms and legs and sent him down the south line.”

The south line was, for all intents and purposes, a zip line that led to the southern side of the mountain. A basket on a cord, which they tossed down for supply deliveries.

Then Vera realized something. “The south side is where the cyclopes live.”

“Yes, you need to hurry,” urged Delia.

The cyclopes would smell him a mile away. The only way to get to the bottom of the mountain fast was the same way he’d gone. “Can you get me to the south line without getting caught by the peacekeepers?”

When she’d seen the south line for the first time, she’d sworn she’d rather strip naked and dance on top of a satyr bar than travel down that thing. Addamas had pointed out that the zip line would probably be safer. It was definitely more sanitary. Vera hadn’t cared. Once she saved Addamas, she was going to murder him and send his remains back to Mimi. Vera was sure her friend would understand, despite the pregnancy hormones making her a bit touchier than normal. Mimi was married to the satyr after all. If anyone understood the desire to murder him, it was her.

“Follow me,” said Airlea.

“Thank you,” Vera told Delia, before racing away into the tunnel Airlea had taken.

She gasped when she caught up to the fast-walking nymph and realized the woman was glowing. Airlea motioned Vera to be quiet—no chance to ask about her nifty nightlight ability. They walked for several minutes in silence before Vera heard laughter and shouting. It sounded like one of the typical all-nighters satyrs enjoyed. In the morning, the sidewalks were littered with satyrs who never made it home. Male and female alike. Technically, the satyr’s superpower was emotional manipulation via whistle, but Vera felt partying should be on the list too. It was a wonder that gorgons hadn’t gotten curious and come snooping around. Unless they didn’t like noise. The whole mountain pulsed with music and the pounding of satyr hooves.

Vera hurried after Airlea, half afraid that someone would lean against the wall and it would crumble away. It could not possibly be very thick. Airlea slowed a minute later and held up a cautionary hand before dousing her light. Without it, the tunnel was pitch black. Vera froze. Slowly, her eyes adjusted, thanks to a sliver of light seeping through a crack in the wall. Beams had been installed to hold that section of cave up. That’s nice. This must be a super stable section of tunnel. Vera rushed to catch up to Airlea. As she passed by the light, she caught a flash of a candle-lit room with bedroom furniture. She wondered how many fissures like that were in the caves. And how long before the satyrs learned their privacy was thoroughly breached on a regular basis. Up ahead, Airlea started to glow again.

After a couple more bends and forks, Airlea stopped abruptly. Vera waited, expecting to see another crack in the rock. Instead, a soft breeze rippled the wall of the cave. Vera squinted and realized the wall was actually a section of dense vines.

“Can you climb?” asked Airlea quietly.

Vera nodded, and the nymph slipped through the veil of plants. Alrighty then. Guess I’m supposed to follow. She expected the weight of the vines to push against her, but they parted like curtains. Huh. She knew the nymphs had a green-thumb-thing going—making plants grow and stuff. That was their super power. However, she hadn’t realized nymphs could control them too. Some leaves stirred Vera’s hair. She reached out to brush them away, but they jerked under her hand. Vera spun around and saw the vines slithering toward her. Airlea wasn’t paying attention until Vera made a distressed noise. The nymph scowled at the greenery, and it seemed to deflate. Then the nymph sighed and ran a hand through the tangles. The vines surged forward to nestle her fingers. A blossom swelled and burst open near her hand. Airlea smiled but shook her head slightly, and the blossom did a reverse sequence and sucked closed.

Okay, maybe the nymph wasn’t controlling the vines? Vera remembered the touchy-feely ferns she’d run into a while back and shivered.

In a knot of vines, something shook. Thinking the vines were coming after her, Vera backed away. The movement turned out to be a rabbit, which had gotten snagged. Nope, not snagged. Snared. The vines wound around the rabbit tightly until the only movement was the pulsing heartbeat in its neck. The plants must have been so distracted by her and Airlea that they’d loosened their hold on their prey for a moment. Vera was sure that’s what the rabbit was.

Vera gaped at the unperturbed nymph and suddenly understood how none of the satyrs had accidentally stumbled upon the tunnels. Bone-littered vines would be a good deterrent. Vera was really glad she hadn’t known the plants were carnivorous before she walked through them. She also wondered how much of the stuff grew on the mountain. Probably at least a patch for each cave opening. Why hadn’t anyone warned her?

Airlea began to climb. Vera tipped her head back and looked up. It was a sheer cliff. The nymph scaled it like a monkey. Before I kill Addamas, I’m gonna skin him. She flexed her hands. I can do this. It’s only like fifteen feet. The rock wall at the Y is bigger than that. Not that she’d ever climbed it. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to strap those harness thingies around their crotch in the name of fun. Although, she’d love to strap up at that very moment. And have a thick mat to cover the rocks in case she slipped. She took a steadying breath and reluctantly started pulling herself up. She’d seen a billion little kids do it. How hard can it be?

Hard.

For-reals freaking hard.

Vera hauled herself up a few more inches. She made the mistake of looking up while she felt around for whatever crevice Airlea had used. She’d been sure she was getting close. Her legs and arms burned. Running had not prepared her muscles for this. Of course, with Kale being a reclusive butthead, she hadn’t been keeping up with her running. Sparring had pretty much screeched to a halt too. Kale would not be happy, but she was too pissed at him to care much. He’d left her.

Airlea was suddenly right beside Vera, pointing out where to put her hands and feet. The nymph clung to the side of the wall, one-handed like an unbreakable badass. Man, rock climbing did not seem a likely skill for someone made of tissue and glass. Then again, they did live on a mountain. Rock climbing badassery was probably a prerequisite to walking for them. Vera followed the pointing nymph’s guidance the rest of the way up. When asked, she planned to add ten feet to the height of the wall.

Finally at the top, Vera lay panting. She would’ve been prostrated like that anyway, but since they’d climbed right up to a house, it was necessary to stay lower than the windows. Based on the thrumming, everyone inside was probably toasted, but with her luck, someone would recognize her. If they saw Airlea, someone would start whistling to entice the nymph to join the fun. Said nymph waved to get Vera’s attention just before she slipped through the window. Vera was dumbstruck. You have got to be kidding me. And people say I act irrationally. Vera looked around to see if anyone was looking up from the homes and bridges below and then followed Airlea’s lead.

Airlea clearly knew the way through the home. Vera decided she’d either snuck in before or been there as a party guest. Something crashed nearby, and Vera jumped. Airlea barely paused to check that the coast was clear before slipping down a hall. They ended up in what appeared to be a library. Vera wasn’t aware that reading was a pastime the satyrs enjoyed. She ran a finger across the spines, and it came away dusty. Apparently, they didn’t. Wiping the finger off on her tunic, she looked up in time to see Airlea crawl out a window. Vera smacked her forehead. They’d traipsed through the house instead of going around it.

“Hey,” slurred a deep voice behind Vera. She whipped around to see a satyr, who was more wide than tall, swaying in the hall. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to see her clearly. “I know you.”

“Of course you do,” said another voice.

The round satyr laughed at this and then pointed at Vera, “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about her.”

“You have a girl hiding in there Freedrick?” asked an excited third voice.

Vera dashed to the window before satyrs two and three came to investigate and powered up their whistling lips. She clamored out the window, which turned into falling headfirst and trying to catch herself before face-planting into the rock below. Her toes hooked on the windowsill, and she dangled for a heartbeat until a hand caught her foot.

“That’s not a satyr foot,” slurred one.

“Or a nymph foot,” said another.

“I told you I recognized her.”

Vera hung there helpless, hair trailing in the dirt while the satyrs discussed her foot. Then three faces popped out to look down at her. She braced her hands on the ground and kicked wildly trying to get her foot free. The three goaters laughed. And then a whistle started. Vera twisted to look up at the round face of the satyr. He’s actually pretty hot.

Just then, Airlea’s hand flashed down. She’d crept along the outside wall and slammed what looked like a giant thorn into the arm of the satyr holding Vera. He howled and jerked back, dropping her. At the same time, he swiped reflexively and smacked Airlea away. The nymph sucked in a pained breath, clutching an arm to her chest. It bent unnaturally. Ribbons of blue-green flowed beneath her skin, like dye through water. Vera realized it was the nymph equivalent of blood. Airlea was bleeding internally.

Seemingly unconcerned by this fact, Airlea pointed across the way at the large basket attached to the southern line. No seatbelts, harnesses, or anything to hang onto.

Vera took a step and then hesitated. “Will you have to revert?”

“I am not sure yet.”

“Would you revert if it weren’t for the fact that you need to remember the truth of your people?” Vera asked.

“Yes.”

“You won’t heal? At all?”

“Not without reverting.”

“But your sister. What happens to her if you have to heal?”

“She’ll have to stay alive long enough to remind me of all the things I’ve forgotten.”

Vera didn’t want to say it, but that seemed unlikely. Delia had not looked well. The satyrs climbing out the window caught Vera’s attention. One dangled his rear half out. Another pushed his friend, telling him to hurry.

“Come with me,” Vera said. “The meadow can heal you.”

“She can’t.” Idan slunk from the shadows. “She’s bound to the fountain.”

The idiot satyrs stopped climbing out the window and started pointing to Vera as if Addamas’s father had not already noticed her. He glared them into silence. His curled horns cast shadows on the stone behind him. They were huge, smaller than only the Aegis’s. Idan pursed his lips and unleashed a sharp whistle. The drunk satyrs blinked, then blinked longer until they fell asleep.

“You can control other satyrs?” Vera asked. She didn’t know that was possible.

Idan gave Vera a bland look as if she should already know the answer to that. Yeah, yeah, I ask obvious questions when I’m in shock. Sue me.

Airlea eyed the satyr suspiciously. “No one is supposed to remember about the fountain.”

“I found an old record hidden among the books you nymphs like so well.”

Ah, that explained why the books were dusty. They belonged to the nymphs, who’d been shoved out of their homes to make room for their invaders.

“It told me a few things, but I get the feeling you know more,” he said.

Airlea clammed up.

Vera asked, “Does that record happen to mention if a nymph can leave their life source? Say, in an emergency?”

“Some diagrams show how the nymphs first came here, so I’m sure there’s a way. But I cannot decipher it.”

“I have a talent for crazy languages. Maybe I can,” Vera volunteered.

“No.” Airlea shook her head. “I would not survive the trip to the bottom of the mountain with you anyway. You must hurry to save Addamas. We will survive.”

Vera knew that “we” meant her and Delia, but Vera wondered if they really would survive.

Idan seemed to sense Vera’s reluctance and said, “I will help Airlea as best as I can. I do not wish to have her lose her memories.”

“Why do you suddenly care about a nymph?” asked Vera.

“He’s my father,” admitted Airlea.

Vera’s mouth fell open. “Does Addamas know?”

Idan shook his head.

Vera was not prepared to think about how no one knew who was related to who on this mountain. Thinking about all the mingling that had to go on within close family lines made her uncomfortable.

“I’ll do my best to help Airlea. You just go save my son.”

Vera climbed into the basket and pulled up the rope ladder. She managed not to think about what was coming next until Addamas’s dad began to pull at the ties that kept the basket at the top of the mountain. A set of pullies would return it once Vera was out, but the trip down would be a free fall.

“I don’t even know how to find him,” Vera said as another tie popped loose.

“Find the cyclopes,” he said. “They’ll know where he is.”

“How will I find them?”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll find you,” Idan assured.

And then Vera was flying down the mountain, clinging to the inside of the basket. She looped an arm around the curved handle as she descended into the clouds below. Once in the mist and clouds, she pictured herself crashing into something and splattering across the mountainside, like grotesque abstract art. She’d always said she could make that splatter-art people seemed to like, but she hadn’t meant like that. The wind whipped her hair around her face. A few strands hit her wide eyes, and she slammed them closed. She bit down hard when her feet lifted from the basket floor. Her stomach lurched.

A few minutes later and she was used to the falling sensation enough to wonder how the death contraption stopped. Her breathing, which was leveling out, now picked back up. She didn’t have too much longer to wonder, because the end of the line was hurtling toward her. The basket whipped around the end of the pulley system. Momentum flung it, with her still inside, back up the other side of the line for several feet. Then it slowed and slipped back in the other direction, like a pendulum. The basket swung wildly back and forth until Vera flipped out. She dangled from the side, eyes squeezed closed until the swaying slowed and finally settled at the end of the line. The ground was only a body length below.

She was gathering her nerve to let go when a hook latched onto the handle, and the basket started climbing. The ground was only getting farther away. Vera let go. A sharp pain shot up one ankle when she landed, and Vera screwed up her face. She put weight on it carefully and was pretty sure she’d just twisted it. Well, that could have gone worse.

A cacophony of grunts echoed through the trees. Then came the crashing of what sounded like large bodies hurtling through the undergrowth. She could only assume it was the cyclopes. The mist had not dispersed as she’d descended the mountain so she couldn’t see far in any direction. The cyclopes were already mostly blind, so it probably didn’t deter them much. That meant her best chance was climbing something. A crack rippled through the ground just before a tree nearly fell on top of her. Someone bellowed in pain and anger. Holy heck, one of those things just laid out a tree thicker than my thigh by running into it.

“Awws, comes on, Bunars,” complained a gravelly voice. “We gonnas missings our second supper if you keeps bumpings into trees.”

“Not smellings a satyr.” There was a pause while Vera continued to scrabble up the side of a dense pine tree. Hopefully, the needles would prevent an accidental collision. “Smellings a different.”

“Don’t cares Brunars. Gorlas and Finers beings hungry. We needs more than one runtlings satyr to feeds them. Smellings good enough. Adds to the pot with the satyr. Won’t knowings no differents.”

“Should killings satyr to shuttings it ups. Too much talkings.”

“Tastings better fresh. No killings til pots is boilings.”

“Smellings the different close now.”

Vera held her breath as the creatures slunk below her tree. Their skin was pale and slippery-looking, like a walrus. They looked like they had the blubber of a walrus beneath that flesh too. Bits of hair sprouted from their bulbous heads. One was a woman Vera realized, but only because of the sagging boobs swaying beneath her dirty shift dress. She looked up with one humongous eye. Vera knew the creature couldn’t see her, but somehow it seemed to know she was there anyway.

“Its hidings it is.”

That confirmed it. They knew she was there. The boob-swaying cyclops slapped a hand against the trunk and Vera grabbed tighter to her branch. The shirtless cyclops with a loincloth—must be a male—looked up blindly and then backed out from under the tree. Vera couldn’t see what he was doing through the pine boughs, but the woman smiled at her through a mouth of wickedly pointed teeth. Vera’s gut tensed as the creature stepped aside. Her mate was going to use his body as a battering ram and plow into the tree.

Aw, he—

The tree cracked and groaned. Vera barely managed to hold on. It didn’t matter, though, because the tree was coming down with her in it. She couldn’t stop her scream. Based on the cackling, the cyclopes found that rather amusing. Bark and needles tore up her arms, and Vera managed to pop her mouth on a branch when the tree bounced against the ground. Blood filled her mouth from the split in her lip.

“Smellings goods enough.” A squishy hand wrapped around Vera’s leg and dragged her from the boughs. Well, at least I’m about to locate Addamas. That’s good, right? I mean, they’re going to throw me in a stew pot alongside him, but we’re definitely going to be reunited. Just to spite these two, I might kill him so they can’t have their fresh meat. And bonus: I’ll die a bit happier. Stars flitted before Vera’s eyes as the cyclops woman manhandled her like a rag doll, running fat fingers over every inch of her.

“Is runtlier than the satyr.”

“Is its another boys supper or girls supper?” asked the man with some interest.

The woman’s eye narrowed, and she backed away from the man, keeping Vera away from his grasping fingers. “It’s another boys,” she lied to Vera’s surprise. The woman had felt up Vera like a butcher feeling up meat. Even if there hadn’t been a chorus of bells clanging in her head, she’d have known the woman was lying. But why?

“Soundings like a girls supper when it’s screamings,” protested the male.

“I know a twiddle when I’m feelings it,” answered the woman. “Even a teensy one.”

“Ohs,” was all the man said, but there was plenty of disappointment in his voice. He turned to trudge back through the mist the way they had come, almost like he’d lost all interest in her. The woman fell back, head tipping to listen as his footsteps fell away.

“Comings?” asked the male.

“I comings,” she replied grumpily.

Vera frowned at the strange behavior. And then the woman wove her fingers through Vera’s hair and shook her. Not gently. The stars were back.

“Keepings quiets,” hissed the woman. “Him thinkings I’m not knowings him likings to steal girls suppers. But I’m knowings girls suppers not runnings away.” The woman shook Vera again for emphasis.

Vera took note of how far away the male was. Apparently, there was a range to their ears. She’d keep her lips zipped when any cyclops was in the vicinity of that range. Hopefully, she’d have a chance to get out before she became dinner. But she’d rather become dinner than a plaything.

Addamas sat inside a teepee-like cage made of small trees. He was propped up against one, with his legs splayed carelessly in front of himself. When he caught sight of Vera half stumbling, half dragged into the circle of the crude camp, he stilled. A lean-to of pine boughs to one side sheltered two round, wiggling bundles. The couple’s babies were big grubs with legs and hands. In other words, they looked just like their mama and papa.

“What are you doing here?” Addamas demanded.

Vera looked between the two cyclopes and shook her head at him but didn’t answer.

“You were supposed to go north. You do know what north is, right?”

Vera glared.

“Damn.” Addamas wiped the blood from her chin. “You okay?”

“Seeings? Satyr talkings too much. Wantings to killings him.” But the man ambled away toward a fire with a massive steaming pot while the woman tossed Vera inside.

Vera lifted a hand and pantomimed a talking hand puppet. Addamas frowned and Vera made her hand appear to be talking faster.

“We’re playing charades now? It doesn’t seem like the time, does it?”

Vera shoved her hand into Addamas’s face and then joined it by the other hand.

“Let me guess, that’s me. And I’m talking too much,” Addamas rolled his eyes.

Vera stomped a foot in frustration.

He sighed. “Ver-”

Vera slapped a hand over his mouth. She wasn’t sure if the cyclops man would recognize her name as a feminine one, but it wasn’t a chance she wanted to take. Especially now that the woman was over cuddling her grunting grub babies, and the man was lingering nearer the cage.

“Okay. I’ll play,” Addamas said. “Talking?”

Vera nodded and then pointed at Addamas before making the talking pantomime again. “I’m talking?”

Vera nodded vigorously, and then circled her hand in a motion for him to keep going and then made her hand talk faster. Keep talking, you dummy, she wanted to yell at him.

“You can’t talk?”

Vera dropped her hand and tipped her head back to stare at the sky in frustration.

“Can you talk?” asked Addamas seriously.

Vera nodded and gave a thumbs-up.

“But you don’t want to?”

Vera glanced at the male, who seemed focused on the fire, but she couldn’t be sure. She shook her head emphatically.

“Do you want me to stop talking?”

Vera shook her head vigorously. She tried again with the talking hand, making it jabber.

“You want me to keep talking?”

Vera smiled and nodded.

“Lots of talking then.”

Vera clapped.

Addamas considered the cyclops. “I don’t think our gracious host likes it that I keep talking. But his woman seems to wear the pants in this relationship, and he’s not allowed to kill me. Those little bundles of joy like their dinner fresh, and Mama Cyclops wants to give her babies what they want.” The male looked toward the cage and then at his mate with a frown. Vera almost giggled at Addamas’s narration of their situation. “But he’s not the only hungry one here. I’m starving. Did I ever tell you the story of Eury? He got so hungry that he ate himself. It’s actually a funny story. Maybe a little long. But we have time. Let me start at the beginning. Eury was a scrawny little thing…”

The longer Addamas spoke, the farther away the cyclops drifted. He stuck his hand into the pot to test for temperature and then threw more wood on the fire before marching into the woods—probably to find more firewood and speed up dinner preparations.

“He can’t know I’m a girl,” Vera blurted when he was gone. “He likes to kidnap the girls for himself.” Vera started flapping her hand again so Addamas would keep talking.

“So Eury could never seem to put on weight. No matter how much he tried. Used to make me so jealous…”

“Escape?” Vera prompted.

“Eury even wished that he had taken the time to awaken his morph powers so he could turn into a bird and fly away.” He gave Vera a pointed look, clearly not talking about the Eury dude anymore.

“Glamour?”

“Glamour wouldn’t make Eury small enough to pass through bars though. It only made him look small.” He bit his lip thoughtfully. “The last thing Eury wanted to do was make a demon mind link with one of those two. They’re tone deaf so my whistle wouldn’t help. You have any other tricks I’m not aware of?”

“I—” Vera pretended to cough, and Addamas continued his story.

Vera realized she might have a new trick. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come back to bite her. Literally. She slunk down to the bottom of the cage and let the sound of Addamas’s chatter fall away while she went hunting with her mind for a shy bit of twined vines in her void. It was hiding in a crevice, silently observing her other magical tidbits. Vera coaxed and hummed until the twisting magic snaked out. The kargadan watched curiously from its perch above. It was anti-social, not shy and skittish like the nymph vines were. She sent both magics a burst of reassuring vibes, but they backed away. It was going to take some time.

Something brushed the back of her neck. Her demas had no trouble looking for attention and affection. Vera patted it and sent it away. Then came the tricky part—asking her nymph to help her. She pictured the steaming cyclopes’ pot and imagined vines curling along the ground and up the sides to knock it over. Only, it occurred to her that with the fire, the plants would burn if they weren’t careful. The nymph leaped away from her and retreated into the crevice. Crap. She was still projecting her thoughts. Vera sent sorrowful thoughts toward the nymph. She was not trying to scorch the vines. If they didn’t help, she would be boiled alive, though. The nymph coiled, considering their situation, and began to swell. Whoop. The nymph is going to help.

Addamas was still blithering on about who-knows-what and lifted a brow when Vera opened her eyes. “Did I bore you?” He squinted. “Your eyes look like my mother’s.”

“You remember your mother’s eyes?”

Instead of answering, he noted, “Someone woke your nymph magic.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t had much time getting to know each other. We’re going to try, though.”

“By all means.” His lips quirked. “The ‘we’ thing is weird, by the way.”

Vera ignored that. She was already encouraging the nymph magic to reach out to the plant life. The ground trembled. Vera frowned, keeping her thoughts on the vines and grasses reaching out to flip the pot. The ground shook harder, and Vera’s eyes widened. Something was wrong.

“You thought an earthquake was the answer?” Kale asked.

“I can’t make an earthquake,” she said.

The baby cyclops screamed as branches of the lean-to fell on them. The male pounded out of the forest to rescue his family. The ground split then, roots curling up from the soil beneath the pot. Clods of soil and wet leaves smothered the flames. A root thicker than Vera’s torso knocked the pot away. It didn’t just tip over, it smashed into a boulder and splintered. Task complete, the roots retreated under the ground. Where the ground had once been level and flat, it was rippled and uneven.

“Huh. Good job,” Addamas said. “But why didn’t you have the roots break us out of this cage instead?”

“I wasn’t trying to make tree roots do anything. I was trying to get a couple of those vining flowers over there to tip the pot.”

“In that case, your aim stinks. But at least we have a bit more time to break out. Unless you can bring them back?”

“I could try.” Only she hadn’t been directing them, and who was to say what they’d do if she called them back? “They might spear us instead of help us, though.”

“Okay, let's leave that as a last resort. Shish kabob satyr is not a good look for me.”

“So, you have another plan?” Movement alerted her that the male was approaching, and she pinched her lips together.

Addamas twisted so she could see the ropes he’d been working on at the bottom of their cage. Ahh, that’s why he hasn’t moved from that spot. The cyclops male roared when he felt the broken pieces of his mangled pot. He shot them a blind glare as if it was their fault—well, technically it was. He collected what used to be the roof of his shelter and started stripping the leaves from the limbs with surprisingly deft fingers. Then he set about tying them together.

“That’s not good,” said Addamas.

“Shuttings up now!” The male chucked a stone at Addamas. It struck true, striking Addamas in the brow. The satyr swayed, blood welling from the wound. Vera jumped up and put her face in front of Addamas’s.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “But that won’t last long once he’s finished building that spit. It seems we are to be rotisseried if we can’t get out of here.” He blinked a few times. “We’d better get out of here because I do not intend to have a sharp stick shoved through my back door. I will not die that way.”

Vera sat down beside Addamas, and reached back to scratch at the twine with her fingernails. Soon her fingers were as bloodied as his. And they were only through half of the rope.