The Doorway and the Deep by K.E. Ormsbee Read Free Book Online Page B

shoved Fife away. “You’re so uncivil.”
    â€œOoh, ouch. Fifth me.”
    â€œI can’t believe y—
wait!
Where are you all going?”
    The others, led by Lottie, were leaving the courtyard and heading back into the wood, the bickering Fife and Adelaide hurrying to catch up.
    â€œI’m telling you all,” said Fife, “something is off. Something’s not right, and I’m not going to shut up about it until we—
sweet Oberon, what is that?
”
    Fife’s yelling was unnecessary. The others had already reeled to a halt and were staring ahead at something in their path. Oliver’s lantern light poured over a mound, dark and motionless. It was covered in something pale and slick.
    White liquid—
blood
—was pooling around what Lottie was now sure was a dead body.
    â€œI told you they existed! I
told
you!
The whitecaps strike again!
”
    Fife was airborne. He flapped his arms frantically, face blotchy with panic.
    Adelaide pressed her hand to her head and said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    â€œW-what do we do?” Eliot asked. He looked ready to puke at Lottie’s feet.
    Lottie shook her mind free of the sight.
    â€œWe tell someone,” she said. “We have to
get
someone. Oliver?”
    Oliver was still and silent, but Lottie knew this did not mean he was unreachable. It meant that, though he was paying attention, he was also thinking hard. Now, he looked to Lottie with resolve in his black eyes.
    â€œCynbel,” he said. “I’ll fetch him.”
    He ran back to the glass pergola.
    Though he had stopped shouting, Fife was still hovering in a frenzy above Lottie’s head.
    â€œNo one believed me! ‘Stuff and nonsense, Fife,’ you said! ‘Just a myth,’ you said! Now some wisp—so stupid to wander out at dawn—and now he’s—he’s
dead
, and—wait.
Is
it a he? Maybe a
she
, and, Puck’s wings, it smells grotesque.”
    Lottie had never seen Fife as hysterical as this. She barely avoided getting conked in the head by one of his flailing feet. Clearly, the one person who best knew what to do in thissituation was in no position to help. She sucked in a cold breath, steeled herself, and approached the bloodied circle of grass.
    Adelaide gasped. “Lottie,
no!
Don’t
touch
—”
    Lottie knelt beside the motionless body. She could make out legs, curled inward, and shoulders, hunched tightly together. After another steadying breath, she pushed at the shoulders until the body lurched onto its back, revealing the wisp’s face.
    Lottie recognized him. He was one of the Wisp Guard. She had seen him before, patrolling the pergola and the surrounding wood. Lottie wondered if he had simply been doing his duty when the whitecaps attacked.
    Then she felt it. The wisp’s thumb brushed her wrist, ever so slightly.
    â€œHe’s still alive!” she cried to the others.
    Frantically, Lottie pushed away the wisp’s heavy cloak. Something sharp caught at the hem. Lottie tugged it back to reveal a large spearhead, made of black metal, lodged into the wisp’s side. Her hands came back slick with blood.
    Fife hovered her side. He was no longer in hysterics, but he was still shaking badly.
    â€œThis can’t have happened long ago,” he said, “or he would’ve lost all his blood by now. Come
on
, Spool.”
    Fife held a yellow kingfisher. The genga was quivering,clearly unnerved by the bloody tableau before it. Fife stroked her back reassuringly. Spool gave a nervous twitter, then puffed up her chest and, with a cough, produced a filmy vial from her beak. Hurriedly, Fife unstoppered the vial and poured its contents—Piskie Juice—on the wisp’s wound.
    â€œWhat else do we do?” Lottie asked. “Should we try to take the spear out?”
    â€œ
NO!
” Fife threw himself between Lottie and the body. “Oberon, Lottie,