“She will die,” Guro said simply. “Or, she will return to how she was before the anting-anting was created. There is nothing I can do for her. I am sorry.”

Kenzie slumped against the couch, her face tightening with grief. Razor crawled onto her shoulder and made worried buzzing sounds, patting her hair, and Kenzie clutched his tiny body close. She didn’t contradict Guro’s statement or insist that he might be able to do something else. No more magic. No more spells. We both knew better than to ask.

“I wish I could give you better news,” Guro continued, his own voice subdued, full of regret. “But, if you want your friend’s soul returned to him, the anting-anting must be destroyed, and he must be the one to do it. There is no other way.”

I nodded numbly. “I understand,” I said, feeling the impossibility of it all weighing me down. How would we ever get Keirran to destroy the amulet, especially if it would kill Annwyl in return? Even if we managed to talk to Keirran without him attacking us, he would never agree to that. “Thanks, Guro.”

“One more thing,” Guro added as I prepared to stand. “A few months ago, someone came to my house. I could not see it, but I could feel it. I knew someone was there.”

“What did it want?”

“I do not know.” Guro shook his head. “It never said anything. But I do not believe it wished me harm, whomever it was. It left soon after, and has not been back since.”

Kenzie looked at me. “Annwyl?”

I shrugged. “Why would she come here and not say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Kenzie murmured, as Razor bobbed on her shoulder, muttering, “Pretty elf, pretty elf.” Her face darkened. “But I think it’s safe to say we have to find her now.”

I nodded, already thinking about where we had to go next when, somewhere behind closed doors, the dogs exploded in a frenzy of barking. And not the excited people are here barks I’d heard dogs make before. This was a snarling, guttural racket, the kind with bared teeth and raised hackles, and it made the hair on my neck stand up.

Razor gave a hiss of alarm and crouched low on Kenzie’s shoulder. Guro rose swiftly, eyes narrowed to dangerous black slits. I leaped to my feet, watching Guro and wondering if I should pull my swords.

“Something is coming,” Guro said, just as a dark shadow slid across the window outside, peering in. It was lean, too lean for a human, with long thin arms and a featureless black body like a spill of living ink. Two bulbous glowing eyes stared out of the dark mass, pupil-less gaze fixed on us all. It raked long fingers down the glass, and my blood turned to ice.

The Forgotten were here.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AGAINST THE FORGOTTEN

With a curse, I drew my blades, as a second Forgotten moved across the window, a black blur against the glass. Panic fluttered inside, and I shoved it down. Guro didn’t have the Sight; he couldn’t see the Forgotten like Kenzie and I could. If these were human invaders, I’d almost feel sorry for them, but how could you fight something you couldn’t see?

“Guro,” I said, as he glanced at me sharply, “the Forgotten are here. Er, faeries that are after Kenzie and me. Do you have a back door? If we leave now, we might be able to lead them away.”

His eyes narrowed. “How many?” he asked in a lethal voice.

“Uh...” I glanced at the window. Three Forgotten pressed against the glass now, and another two scuttled past the window beside it. “I don’t know, exactly. At least five, maybe more.”

A high-pitched screech interrupted us, setting my teeth on edge. A Forgotten glaring in the window raked its claws down the glass, leaving four long, thin gashes behind. Razor screeched in return, baring his fangs, and Kenzie cringed back in fear. Guro shot a look at the window, at the white scratches made by invisible claws, and whirled from the room.

“This way,” he ordered. “Follow me.”

We followed Guro through the kitchen and paused as he opened a single wooden door on the opposite wall. A set of stairs led down into what I assumed was a basement, and Guro motioned us through. “In here, quickly.”

I went down the steps, Kenzie close behind. The bottom of the stairwell opened into a large room with cement walls and floors. It was dark down here, the shadows clinging to the walls and hiding everything from view, until Guro flipped on the light.

My eyes widened. The space in the center of the floor was clear, but the walls were covered with weapons. Crossed swords, knives, clubs, wooden rattan sticks, a couple machetes and tomahawks, all hung in pairs around the room, glimmering wickedly in the fluorescent lights. A tire dummy sat in one corner of the room, a heavy bag in the other, and a couple wooden stands with padded coats and helmets stood at the back. One entire wall had pairs of traditional Filipino short swords—the kris, gayang and kalis were a few I knew by name—hanging beneath a crest that read Weapons of Moroland.

“Okay,” I almost gasped, “I’ll admit it. I’m a little terrified.”

Guro stalked to the back wall, where a pair of swords hung, isolated from everything else. I recognized them as his personal blades, his family’s swords, passed down from his father and grandfather before him. They were shorter than mine but no less lethal, a pair of razor-edged barong that were probably several decades older than I was.

“Ethan!”

Kenzie’s frightened cry rang behind me. I whirled to see a solid flood of Forgotten stream through the door and scuttle down the stairs, climbing along the walls and ceiling like huge black spiders.

“Guro!” I called, as one spindly shadow dropped from the ceiling and lunged at me. “They’re here!”

I dodged back as the faery’s long, thin claws barely missed my shirt, and lashed out with one of my blades. It struck the thing’s neck, biting deep, and the Forgotten didn’t make a sound as it writhed into tendrils of darkness and disappeared. Another leaped in, slashing at me, and I hacked through its arm before backing away.

The Forgotten hissed and drew back, melting into a crowd of its brethren. As I raised my swords, a chill crawled up my spine. The Forgotten had surrounded three sides of the room. Guro, Kenzie and I stood near the back wall, a semicircle of solid black glaring at us with baleful yellow eyes.

“Kenzie,” I panted, “get back. Try to stay between me and Guro.” Though I didn’t know how my mentor was going to fight them. There were an awful lot of Forgotten down here, and they were invisible to normal eyes. Unless Guro had somehow gotten the Sight, which I doubted, most of the fighting was going to be up to me. “If you see an opening,” I continued, not daring to look back at the girl, “run. Get out however you can, and don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up.”

“Screw that,” Kenzie snapped, and I heard the frantic zip of her bag opening. “I’m sure as hell not leaving you, Ethan. you should know that by now. Just keep them back for a few seconds.”

The Forgotten edged forward, silent and deadly, preparing to attack. Guro stood next to me, the barongs held loosely at his sides. I snuck a glance at him and saw that his eyes were closed.

Like a flood of black water, the Forgotten surged forward.

Before I could react, Guro leaped past me into the midst of the attackers, both swords spinning through the air. They moved like helicopter blades, blurred and almost too fast to see, whirling and slashing around him. They cut through the ranks of fey like a thresher through wheat, and clouds of darkness erupted around Guro as the Forgotten fell before the relentless assault.