“There’s no other way?” I asked.

“Nope.”

Thinking, I touched the silver acorn whistle nestled beneath my two layers of coats. Maybe it was time to put the token to use. “But the Oak King could command her as a member of the fey, right?”

“Eh, not really.” The bogle pursed his leathery black lips. “See, we’re pretty informal in these parts, but technically speaking, we’re members of different courts.”

“Courts?” I echoed.

“I know! It sounds so archaic, right?” Skrrzzzt glanced around before leaning forward. “Truth be told, I consider myself a libertarian,” he said in a confidential tone. “But when it comes down to brass tacks, bogles and Night Hags are members of the Unseelie Court and his majesty only presides over members of the Seelie Court.”

I sighed. “So the Oak King is a no-go.”

The bogle settled back in his chair, jiggling the long-toed, thorny foot crossed over his knee. “’Fraid so.”

“Okay,” I said. “So you’re basically saying I have to lure the Night Hag into my dreams to catch her?”

He looked apologetic. “Pretty much.”

“Any suggestions?” I asked.

“Well, they’re summoned by nightmares, especially really intense ones. I could try scaring you again,” he said helpfully. “Do you think it might do the trick?”

I smiled at him. “I’m sure it would, but not if I’m expecting it. Thanks, Skrrzzzt. You’ve been a big help.”

The bogle shrugged. “No problem, mamacita. So we’re cool? It’s all good in the hood?”

“Yep.” I stood. “We’re cool.” I glanced at the wolf. “Are you ready to go, partner?” The wolf stood. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I have to admit, I was feeling very House Stark of Winterfell as I departed into the cold darkness, Cody trotting beside me like my own personal direwolf. At least until we got back to the bench beside the jungle gym where Cody had stashed his gear and he shifted back to human form and began scrambling into his clothes, his teeth chattering.

“So did you get all that?” I asked him. He grunted in response, fumbling with the buttons on his flannel shirt. I took off my gloves. “Here, let me help.” I knew from personal experience that Cody’s manual dexterity wasn’t at its best when he was still a little wolfy.

“I can do it, Daise,” Cody said in a rasping voice, turning away from me.

“Fine.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of his Carhartt jacket. “Oops.”

“What?” He gave me a sidelong glance.

“No car keys,” I said. “They must have fallen out when I tripped over you. Or possibly when I was doing my damnedest to wrestle you off the bogle.”

“Sorry.” To his credit, Cody did look abashed. He sat down on the bench to put on his socks and boots. “Once instinct kicks in, it’s almost impossible to turn it off. You took a big risk trying to pull me off that thing.”

I shrugged. “You wouldn’t hurt me. Not like that, anyway. I trust you. I even trust your wolf.”

He laced his boots. “You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I do.” I slid his jacket from my shoulders, laying it on the bench beside him. “Here. I’ll go get the keys.”

I backtracked to the mess hall, where Skrrzzzt was leaning against the doorjamb in a jaunty pose, the keys to Cody’s truck dangling from one long, knobby finger. “Looking for these, mamacita?”

“Yeah.” I took the keys. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” The bogle peered into the darkness, then lowered his voice. “Hey, so are you and the werewolf an item or what?”

I smiled wryly. “Unfortunately, or what.”

“Yeah, I thought I picked up on a little somethin’ somethin’ there.” Skrrzzzt nodded in sympathy. “You want me to jack his truck? Maybe a little alone time in the woods at night will get his romantic juices flowing. It always worked for the campers,” he added. “Right up until the point where I scared the bejeezus out of them.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But his juices are fine. It’s more of a noncompatible-species issue.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.” There was something unexpectedly touching about being on the receiving end of his sympathy. Who knew a bogle would be so much easier to talk to than, say, a naiad or a hellebore fairy? Though I suppose it helped that his vocabulary appeared to come straight out of the mouths of the latest generation or two of campers rather than some Shakespearean Insult Generator. “Thanks again, Skrrzzzt.”

He offered me a huge, gnarly-looking fist. “Gimme some dap.”

“You got it, son.” That was something I’d heard Jen’s twelve-year-old kid brother and his friends say to each other. I bumped my fist against Skrrzzzt’s. It felt like knocking on a knot of wood. “Take care.”

The bogle flashed me a hideous grin. “I always do, mamacita.”

      Sixteen

“So let me make sure I’ve got this straight.” Behind the steering wheel, Cody glanced at me. “All you need is a strand of the Night Hag’s hair to bind her.”

“Right,” I said.

“Except the only way to get it is to lure her into a nightmare.”

“Yep.”