It wasn't all that much farther to the house. Des circled around to the kitchen door and opened it cautiously. No one in sight.

The kitchen looked different—dishes, she realized, the upper shelves that should be filled with plates and bowls, glasses and mugs, were largely bare.

The swinging door to the hall felt different under her hand, so she paused to investigate. The paint was chipped, the wood below pitted, with a few much larger and deeper marks. Something had obviously connected with it, repeatedly.

Maybe that was why there were so few dishes left? But who was responsible?

Well, if it was any of their seven, that had an easy answer: Zach. With all the anger that had been stewing inside of him, it would only need a trigger, and not a large one at that.

She prowled down the hall, silent on feline paws, glancing briefly into the dining room. No need to stop in the little half-bath under the stairs.

Outside the sitting room, she paused, catching a faint scent she couldn't consciously identify. She'd noticed, though, since they'd stopped eating the tainted bread, that not only her night vision and her hearing but her sense of smell had been growing more acute. She stepped through the doorway, all senses alert.

At first glance the room was as still as the rest of the house, but only until motion caught her eye.

Identifying JC wasn't hard, but getting her mind around this particular change took her a moment. Every motion deliberate, every part of her other than what needed to move staying still, JC rose from the chair.

What on earth has been lurking in Jace that I didn't know about? Des wondered. That she didn't know about either, or at least accept, for that matter? There existed a depressing array of things that did no harm to anyone but were frowned on or worse by society, many of them loosely related to gender and sexuality, and that led to far too many people hiding important aspects even from themselves; she had considerable sympathy for the difficulty and risks of even recognizing, let alone accepting and expressing, those aspects. Damn, Jace doesn't need buried stuff rammed down her throat right now on top of everything else!

Despite the strangeness, she seemed okay, though, and her hug was strong and real and warm. Inquisitively, Des ran a hand down JC's cheek and neck to her upper chest, exploring the texture, or rather lack thereof; JC made no move to stop her, but then, they'd all gained a whole new level of comfort with contact after the past couple of weeks. She'd have liked to investigate further, but there were probably limits, so instead she gave JC a cheek-rub and a quick kiss.

JC caught her hand to lead her to the library, snapped on a lamp, and found a sheet of paper and a pen.

Z's dragon, destroyed kitchen, they moved him. A's unicorn, in our place. Worn out, won't wake up.

Des took the pen.

Not surprised after how much running. Z in a cage & very groggy but OK. Dragon's a good name. T's OK in small pond. E's green, part plant, is OK but maybe trouble moving right now.

JC read it and nodded. Plan was to keep Z cold for now.

What about S? Des asked.

Made a cocoon. In cage until confirmed. They think will-o'-the-wisp. Near a swamp? Towards autumn maybe, were talking about extra food.

Will look for it, Des promised.

JC, expression thoughtful, reclaimed the pen.

So:

A – unicorn

D – cat (big surprise)

E – green fae (ditto)

JC – house fae (ditto)

S – will-o'-the-wisp?

T – water fae

Z – dragon

Des nodded agreement. That was a fair summary.

What a mixture, JC wrote. But we must have a lot of different abilities. We can use those to get out of here. Especially if I. and all don't know we're still working together.

Rail around T pond, Des said. Stopped another fae. I walked through 4x.

JC nodded. I. says cats can't be held or tracked easily. She's upset. Wants Ph to change collars from keeping us quiet to tracking to find you. Ph worried T might be siren/dangerous with voice.

Now that was interesting.

But then, that was all part of being a cat, right?

Siren would make sense for T. Music + sex? Des wrote.

JC found that highly amusing, but nodded agreement.

Nothing meat except cans/srsly frozen, JC said. Shopping tomorrow. Z tipped fridge over.

Given the size and presumably considerable mass of that fridge, that was an impressive accomplishment.

Ate earlier, Des said. Chicken. OK for now.

Will try to find food for after dark. Veggies prob. would make you sick now.

Thanks. More veggies, do not want! Will find S. Hope A wakes soon. And still had her ability to link them all. They needed that gift, and every other advantage they could find or invent, if they were going to get out of this with the odds against them.

Me too.

JC picked up the sheet of paper, returned the pen to its place and switched off the light.

In the kitchen, the paper went under the sink into the black hole, and JC shooed Des towards the back door.

Des stole another hug, first, to which JC seemed perfectly amenable, and only then prowled off.

Only Suzi left that she hadn't seen with her own eyes.

“Maybe autumn” left a lot of ground to cover. Still, if she trusted to her ears and her nose, it might take less time than a human's blind search across several hundred acres.

And on the way, there were things to investigate: streams, and interesting little corners among the hills and trees, and occasional bodies of water from which she kept her distance. She spent a little longer checking out the irregular, tumble-down remains of tightly-built mortared fieldstone walls, and finally concluded that like a Victorian folly, it had been constructed just to be picturesque ruins without ever having been a real complex of buildings.

The more she saw out here, the more certain she was that this island had been constructed with loving care and artistic aesthetics, not as a prison but as a work of beauty and creativity. It certainly wasn't Nestor's work, since he put no more effort into anything than he had to, or Phrixos, who wouldn't recognize beauty if it jumped up and down waving a flashing neon sign. Who had built it? Where were they now? How had it become instead a prison?

She saw the small green fae that had guided her earlier, sitting at the edge of one of the small lakes, feet dangling in the water. Something was moving under the surface, and Des caught a glimpse of something with a lot of scales—a tail? An arched back? She saw no indication of alarm from the small fae, though. Des felt her ears swivel to track sounds, which was an interesting sensation: they were talking, she thought, though very quietly, and the rhythm didn't sound right for English or French.

She'd assumed that the previous victims didn't speak, that they had all encountered the painful shocks of the collars and had learned to avoid it. But no other fae she'd seen was actually wearing a collar, so presumably they'd been removed at some point. Maybe there were a finite number of those, or something, and they were reserved for the newest victims. She'd also never questioned what languages might linger among any who retained any trace of memory—or how much memory might linger in individuals, and what the result of that might be.

Right now, she very much wished that she could speak, so intently that she'd have done so despite those earlier shocks, in hopes of establishing some kind of more solid contact. As it was, she made mental notes about this, so she could share it with the others once Alison was back online.

As she watched, the furred woman she'd seen when out at night with JC joined them. She kept her feet tucked up beside her, but did trail a hand in the water, and a pale hand emerged to twine fingers with fingers briefly.

Water and green and... something else that was neither, but a connection remained between them, one Isabel probably didn't know about since she hadn't done anything about it. Some memory must remain from before, some sense of something, for the trio to stay friends.

Thoughtfully, she noted where the lake was and went on.

Swamps had to have water, right? Would any of the ever-present little streams connect to it?

It was worth a try. She picked a stream, and followed it against the current as it meandered across the landscape. Eventually it split, or rather, two smaller streams joined to make the one she'd been following; she sniffed at the air, detected nothing, and randomly chose the one on the left.

Eventually, the stream ended, or began, at a rocky spring where the water bubbled up from the ground—she wasn't sure if that was true for all of them, but she'd seen several that looked much the same, and like this one, all had been near the outer edge of the island. There were fewer streams towards the centre, but they were larger, and she'd seen a couple of deep pools, all near the centre, fed by multiple streams but with nowhere visible for the water to be going. Maybe it went from the pools down into the island water system and back up via the many springs.

Hm, if Theo was uncomfortable away from water, that could be important. Could the streams be used as paths? She should look into that.

Being in autumn meant she was about as far away from Zach as she could get, although it was impossible to be more than about six kilometres from each other, less than four miles. The terrain made it feel like it must be much farther.

She could see how, some way off, the edge sloped upwards into what looked like steep hillside—she preferred not to dwell on the way the sky came down to reach the top, although it was less jarring in the dark. There were more interesting hills and otherwise uneven geographical features out this far. If she watched for it, she might be able to find an accessible place high enough to allow her to see over the trees.

Sure enough, with some exploration, she spotted a rocky outcropping. She didn't think she'd have willingly tried to scramble up the steep uneven slope to it before, but it wasn't all that difficult now. There was a crack in it, leading into impenetrable darkness; sniffing at it, she thought the air was moving and somewhat damp, which suggested that it was a more extensive cave than the little den she'd found, and she could smell unknown fae strongly. She avoided that carefully, angling away from it as quickly as she could. From the top, she turned to survey her territory.

Trees of many kinds, in clumps and patches and bands that differed visibly in colour, an effect possibly even more striking here in autumn where the leaves were changing, showing not only countless shades of green but a wide range of fiery reds and yellows and oranges as well. The bright quilt was dotted with small pale lakes, a few open green or greyish areas, and a few patches she couldn't readily identify but they looked different. Far off, she could see where the ground gleamed with a thin layer of snow, and opposite that, the domain of summer that was currently devoid of autumn colours. The size of the island meant that from this high up, she could see all the way to the fountain in the centre, and the glare from its fake moon was probably the only thing keeping her from seeing spring, all the way across to the opposite side.

The original creator, she reflected, must have been aiming to create as many micro-habitats on the island as possible. The outer areas tended to have more evergreens, the sort of trees she associated with a northern climate, and even in the summer quarter it was less warm at the outer edge and significantly warmer towards the centre. It wasn't really tropical anywhere, or really arctic anywhere, and even the outermost end of the winter quarter was barely cold enough to freeze the water and sustain a centimeter or so of snow, but the temperate range between seemed designed to vary. Certainly it wasn't all producing food; was it just for curiosity? Or to grow specific things for magical use? There was enough space here that someone introverted could probably live fairly self-sufficiently without claustrophobia for quite a long time.

Firmly in the middle of autumn, closer to the outer edge than to the centre, she spotted light, glimmering and flickering but definitely there.

JC had said will-o'-the-wisp. Was there a connection?

There was nothing else she could see from here that looked like a clue. She decided to investigate that and then, one way or another, go back to Erica. Zach and Theo were confined but safe even if the other fae got aggressive; Alison likewise, and the other fae seemed to avoid the house itself so JC was fine. If Suzi was in a cage, she'd likewise be safe. Erica was alone, though, and exposed.

She did her best to note the direction of the light, but hoped she'd be able to spot it from ground level once she got closer.

A straight line was difficult, when she kept seeing things that made her want to detour and take a closer look, but she wasn't sure she'd pick up the right direction again, even with the fake moon to orient by, so she resisted the temptation.

She smelled the heavy wet green scent of the swamp before she saw it.

Single-mindedness turned out to be worth it: she saw light more or less ahead of her, just a trace of it that human eyes might have missed. It wasn't visible consistently through the trees, but enough so to keep her from losing her way.

Treading carefully on ground that was growing soft and damp beneath her paws, she slowed but prowled onwards, through rapidly changing trees and more undergrowth than she'd yet seen on the island, towards the light she could now always see. It wasn't strong, even so, and it moved and shimmered irregularly.

She paused and crouched, still hidden by the trees.

A cage similar to Zach's, but smaller, held only a cocoon that looked barely big enough for a child in a fetal position. It glowed faintly, or perhaps what was inside it glowed.

Around the cage were four fae. None was more than five feet high, Des estimated; all were extremely slender, though it looked somehow sleek, not gaunt. Only one was visibly female; the other three showed no secondary sexual characteristics at all that Des could see, and since they were wearing nothing but some odd lengths of colourless silky stuff wrapped and tied in individual ways, she probably should have seen something if there were anything to see. All had wings, but they were distinct and unique: the only female had feathery wings, bright-coloured birdlike ones, short and broad; one had bat-like wings that were part of their arms rather than separate, pale with shimmers of shifting pastel colours dancing along them; one had wings that made Des think of a dragonfly, narrow and transparent, but they flashed with light when they moved; the last had fanciful wispy translucent wings with frilled edges, resembling nothing Des knew of in nature. The skin of all four had its own faint luminescence.

The one female was perched on top of the cage, the other three clinging to the curved sides around her. If any of them had any actual mass, it must be negligible, since they seemed to be anchoring themselves to the bars but not visibly using them as support. All four seemed intent on the cocoon within, but Des didn't think they looked threatening. Curious, maybe.

Cautiously, Des straightened, and took the final couple of steps out of the trees to more open ground.

All four swivelled instantly to track her, and wings spread, fluttering in agitation; the light level climbed quite dramatically. When Des came nearer despite that, the female on top, glaring at her, made a shrill keening that Des figured was a warning. One of the others left the cage, though to Des it looked less like leaping and more like drifting, using those dragonfly wings for balance and possibly to push downwards, rather than for lift. Gravity seemed to have little to do with the manoeuvre. The dragonfly-winged fae, feet barely touching the ground, took up position between Des and the cage.

“Stay back,” the bird-winged female said curtly.

Des paused to consider this. That was, presumably, Suzi in the cocoon, finishing her own transformation. She wouldn't be aware of Des' presence, but being here was agitating what were, presumably, the fae Suzi was going to have to live with for the immediate future. She wasn't sure what will-o'-the-wisps might have as defensive abilities, but their behaviour suggested that they intended to defend that cage with whatever they did have. Even four together suggested that they were social; maybe they recognized Suzi as being one of their own.

At least she'd seen for herself, to whatever extent that applied when what she'd seen was a cocoon and not recognizably Suzi in person.

She held up both hands, palm out, hoping they'd accept that as an indication of her lack of aggression. Adding this to her mental map, she turned to one side so she could skirt the edge of the swamp on her way back to Erica.

Behind her, the light dimmed rapidly.

The swamp seemed to have little open water, but the ground squelched unpleasantly in a wide border along the edge of it; within, through thin mist, Des could see lush green, including moss growing on rocks and fallen trees. Weirdly, though it was normal for the island, it was silent, no frogs, no birds, no bugs. Was it technically a swamp? Des mused. She thought there was some difference between a swamp and a bog and whatever other sorts of wetlands there were. Not that it mattered. It was a soggy sodden area in which she'd probably be lucky to get only wet feet, if not a too-close encounter with a lot of mud, and then she'd have to get wet all over again to get the mud off. Probably there was no dangerously deep muck anywhere to sink into, but she wasn't willing to take a chance on that. Not an inviting place.

She made her way—eventually—back to Erica, who, after a moment, opened her eyes and greeted her with a smile. Des returned it, stole a hug, and curled up on the ground beside her, pressed tightly against Erica's leg. She purred herself to sleep while Erica's stroking hand explored areas of fur and skin.