THE DARKENING (The Divided Realms: Book 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rye Ruskin Wirt tossed a small jingly bag to the ground. "Ye're a good lad, Pitt. I added some extra sparklies for yer trouble. Bit of a bonus ya might say."

"Deal's off, Rye." Pitt kicked the bag back to the hobgoblin. "Fadder knows she's here. Sent the demon host after us, he did. I brung her for Sab."

"Sab?" Rye's pug face squinched into a frown. He pocketed his bag of sparklies and looked up at Willow. "Why should she get 'er? She's got no sparklies. They's all mine!"

"Nobody's gettin' her. I already tol' ya, Fadder knows she's here. I brung her ta fix Sab's foot."

The hobgoblin's eyes narrowed to a disbelieving squint. "What fer? She's the best crawler I gots." He blocked the tunnel with his skinny arms. "I don't know what ye're on about, Prince Pitt. But I ain't lettin' ya inta me hidey-holes if ye're gonna be messin' around with me crawlers."

Pitt shoved Rye, who was no taller than the goblin boy, to the floor. "That's right. It's Prince Pitt, and don't you be forgettin' it. If I wants to go in yer hidey-holes, I'll go in yer hidey-holes. Now bring me to Sab. Or I'll tell Fadder 'bout yer little games."

The hobgoblin scrambled to his goat hooves, nodding and bowing, eyes wide with fear. "Yes, me prince. Sorry. Sorry. I'll take ya to 'er right away. Right away." He click-clacked down the tunnel, still mumbling right away, right away.

"Pitt, what's going on?" hissed Willow.

"I'll tells ya when we gets there. We gots to keep up, though, okay."

Willow would've stopped, made the goblin prince explain things to her, but Rye Ruskin Wirt was going fast and the tunnel they were in had suddenly opened up to a maze of holes and fissures. Losing the hobgoblin now was obviously not a good idea.

Things slowed when they had to crawl through a low passageway. Crawling for the goblins, though, of course, meant belly-slithering for Willow. She wormed forward on her elbows. Dusty air. No light. The walls began to constrict like a stomach trying to digest her. Willow panicked. "Pitt. Pitt! I can't ... I can't breathe!"

"If ye're talkin', ye're breathin'. Just keep yer head. We's almost there."

Pitt's logic made sense. Willow found she could gulp in breath, and noticed Pitt's butt outlined in front of her face. Somewhere up ahead light was seeping into the tunnel. Willow relaxed. She could see a distinct gap now. Not too far. Only a few more elbow shuffles.

They slid from the gap opening into a low-ceilinged cavern. One dim brazier fire flickered light over a rag-tag huddle of tiny creatures. Eyes wide, Willow stared. Someone stood up. A small goblin child like Pitt. He pumped a fist into the air. "Look!" he cried. "Rye's brung us a faerie! Can we plays with her, Rye? Can we plays with her?" His other arm pumped a nubby stump. More little creatures stood. All children. All with something damaged or missing. An eye. A foot. A hand.

Rye plowed into the roiling group. "Settle down. Settle down." He knocked a few back to their bottoms. "She ain't ours. Belongs to the prince, she does. Now shut up, the lot o' ya!"

The goblin children grew sullen and quite. They stared at Pitt with scowls and bitter glares.

Shivers crept up Willow's spine. "What is this, Pitt? Where have you brought me?"

The goblin prince pointed at someone in the middle of the crowd. "That's Sab." She gots a crushed foot." His brown puppy eyes turned to Willow. "Can ya fix 'er? Can ya makes it so she don't got ta be a crawler no more?"

Were those tears in Pitt's eyes? Willow bent down on her knees and grasped Pitt by his skinny arms. "You do feel it, don't you? That stuff with your dad, it was just an act, wasn't it?"