“It’ll pass, boy,” Pinta said. Jeremy looked up to see the small gray Moirai standing over him. Pushing himself up to his knees, he fought a violent urge to empty his stomach on the scraggly grass. His two tiny saviors were helping each other up, looking around with dazed expressions. Adelia lay on her back nearby as Folk gathered around her.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

“Unconscious,” Sinta said.

“Why didn’t she go into the gold?” Pinta asked. His back was to the group as he inspected their surroundings, mallet held at the ready.

“I’m not sure. Maybe traveling stopped her,” Sinta said. “Usually, when she is weak or tired, she slips back into her gold, but the power exchange may have stopped her. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Nor I,” Pinta said. Jeremy raised his head and gazed at the Ardmore Folk milling about the field. A dilapidated race track loomed in front of them, surrounded by a chain-link fence.

“She saved us,” he said.

“Take the gold out, Jeremy,” Sinta said.

Jeremy complied, feeling the reassuring weight in his hand. The bag was still warm to his touch.

“Touch her with it,” she instructed.

Jeremy stumbled over, ignoring the nauseous feeling rising from his stomach, and pressed the bag to her arm. She blinked her eyes open and looked up at him. Nod wrapped his slender green arms around her neck and snuffled.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“You fought Crag,” Jeremy said.

“Jeremy blew us up,” Pinta growled.

“It was your headboard,” Jeremy said, glaring at him.

“I don’t think I was doing very well,” she said, trying and failing to sit up.

“You saved us,” Sinta said.

“Jeremy saved us,” Adelia said. “Did everyone get out?”

“They did,” Pinta said.

“But we’ve lost Ardmore and Kennth’s Cabin,” Adelia laid her head back onto the grass. “Something is wrong.”

“You mean besides the devil showing up with an army of demons and me blowing us up with a headboard?” Jeremy asked.

“I mean—”

“The gold. Oh no,” Sinta whispered.

Jeremy looked down at the open bag, but he saw a clump of fused stone instead of coins.

“That can’t be,” Sinta said.

“That Folk fire was strong, unlike other Folk magic,” came a tiny voice.

“What do you mean, Des?” Adelia asked.

Jeremy felt tiny feet land on each shoulder.

“That power, Lady Adelia, was the power of a hundred folk,” another voice said on his left shoulder. “He siphoned their energy.”

“We know that, Hope,” Sinta said. “But it’s impossible to melt Folk gold.”

“Yet, it has happened,” Des said from Jeremy’s right shoulder.

“What does it mean?” Pinta asked.

“Mean?” Des and Hope said simultaneously.

Jeremy winced from the stereo effect of their high-pitched voices next to his ears. Des and Hope, black and white, Jeremy thought. He wished the world was still black and white for him, walking down the highway or foraging through the countryside, but everything was so complicated now. “What does it mean for Adelia?” he asked.

“I’m sure you won’t regain your strength,” Des said.

“Will I live? Can I unbind?” Adelia asked.

“Surely,” Sinta said.

“It will take more effort and help from other Folk,” Hope said.

Adelia sighed, closing her eyes.

“Our hosts are coming,” said Pinta.

Jeremy stood up to face a throng of approaching Folk.

“Be wary, seer,” Des said into his ear.

Pinta stood in front of Adelia, gripping his mallet tightly. Jeremy stood beside him, preparing to speak for the group. How did it come to this? From a life of blissful solitude to…whatever this was.

The leader of the new Folk was shaped like Pinta but had a shock of carrot-red hair and red and black skin, like a rearranged tiger. His large eyes were green and alert, and Jeremy got the sense of speed and motion from him, even as he settled in front of them. The Folk behind him were all shapes and sizes. Tiny winged Folk flew in circles around human-shaped Folk with purple and yellow skin. Most of them, like their leader, wore single zippered gray jumpsuits. Jeremy sensed adrenaline, fear, and profound sadness like clouds drifting through them.

“I see you,” Jeremy said.

“I know you do, seer, and I see you,” the red-haired leader said. “I’m called Shark, and Adelia better wake up because she owes us favors.”

“She will be fine.”

“We request sanctuary,” Sinta said.

“I know you do. That’s what this whole mess is about.” His voice was rough and gravelly, not unlike Pinta’s, but there was an underlying edge to it, explosive energy barely contained. “Bring her this way. Had to make sure you didn’t mean to harm us, with her kind of power and your seer, you may have slipped some trickery past us,” he said, spinning on his heel.

“Crag has taken our, I mean, the, Sanctuaries, we come from. I mean, Ardmore and Kenneth’s Cabin, where they come from,” Jeremy said, nodding to the group around him. I’m not one of them, he thought. I may be a seer, but I’m not Moirai, I don’t belong in this world. Help Adelia unbind, and then it’s back to real life for me.

“Gather her up and let’s get inside before others see us,” Shark said, walking back toward the racetrack.

Jeremy decided not to ask who else would see them here. Was there another Sanctuary nearby? Kneeling beside Adelia, he scooped her up into his arms. The gold in his jeans pocket was cool against his leg now, but he was eager to inspect the damage. Looking around, he searched for his backpack out of habit before realizing that it hadn’t made it out of Kenneth’s Cabin. He shoved down a rising panic and thought about what was in there. Clothes and food he could replace, but his journal was gone. The thought sent a stabbing pain through his stomach. Years of thoughts about his life: parents, religion, childhood, people he met outside the commune, struggles, and abuse. Had it burned? Was his name in it? It was a strange thought, but he couldn’t remember ever writing down his name. He hoped not. Pushing the thoughts away, he peered down at Adelia resting in his arms. She was surprisingly light.

He caught up to Shark as they neared the abandoned raceway. He saw a stooped figure standing in the scrub brush beside the chain-link fence in the distance.

“Caretaker,” Shark said. “Sometimes, he can almost see us even when we don’t want him to. Mean as a badger.” Shark picked up his pace.

As they stepped through a hole in the tall fence and onto the raceway, Jeremy thought he heard voices in the distance. How long had it been since he talked to another person? A human person, not Folk. “Are those children?” he asked.

“We’re at the edge of an amusement park. That’s why we have to be careful,” Shark said. “Thousands of people close by every day.”

“Look at that,” Pinta said, letting out a slow whistle.

“There is a lot of energy here,” Sinta said, stepping in front of them, transfixed on the faded, cracked asphalt below her orange feet.

Jeremy could smell decaying upholstery in an old red car to his left. Shifting his gaze, he took in the entire track and the other abandoned cars and trucks strewn about like a giant’s forgotten toys. Most of them looked as if they were abandoned fifty years ago. He didn’t know much about cars or what they looked like in different decades, but some of these seemed even older, the 1950’s or 60’s, maybe. Through the years, trees had sprung up on the outer ring of the track. Grass and small scrubby bushes lined the concrete in front of the spectator stand on one end. The middle of the oval track, where the pit crews once worked, was mostly clear, with only brush and small trees dotting the landscape.

“Where do you live?” Pinta asked as they walked on the warm asphalt.

“Under the stands and in the cars. We’ve been here since 1988. Plenty of privacy as long as we stay and away from the amusement park. They’ve grumbled about tearing us down, but we always throw charms at the men who come here to inspect. Someday, though, it may not be enough.”

“Is that why you agreed to shelter us, for Adelia’s strength, just in case?” Jeremy asked. It was surreal to walk on an abandoned race track for some reason. It seemed like the cars should be in motion, even after all these years. It was like walking on a highway in the middle of the night; you could feel the movement in your bones—years of cars screaming down the pavement.

“Maybe,” Shark said. “Or maybe if we lose our Sanctuary and need help, she’ll be able to. She’s strong.”

Her strength hadn’t helped them save Ardmore or Kenneths’ Cabin, but Jeremy didn’t say anything.

“How do you know she’s strong? Have you heard of her?” It hadn’t occurred to him before, but maybe she was famous among the Folk.