“Nothing,” Giselle replied.

“Well, that only leaves about a hundred things it could be. And if you eliminate the ones that wouldn’t be ‘death’ to a sylph, that leaves about fifty. Which is why I have a coach gun, a crossbow, and an ax. Most things it could be are things we can deal with by simple material violence.” Rosa held aside a branch so it wouldn’t slap Giselle in the face.

There didn’t seem to be anything more to say. So watch where you step, and don’t make any more noise than you can help. . . .

“That?” Giselle whispered doubtfully, peering through the parted branches of the bush she and Rosa were hiding behind. They were looking at one of the most charming little woodland cottages she had ever seen. Its windows shone with warm, friendly light, its thatched roof looked practically new, it was clean and neat and all the plaster was freshly whitewashed. There were flowers in the yard, and yellow curtains at the windows. The only anomaly was that there was a big oven in the yard going full blast. You’d never be able to bake anything in an oven that hot, you’d have to wait until the roaring fire in there burned down to coals. Which did not look to be happening any time soon.

But it was hard to imagine that something that innocuous, even welcoming, could hold any sort of a menace.

“Really?” she said doubtfully. “That?”

“That,” Rosa affirmed grimly, as if her teeth were clenched. “If you were an Earth Master, you’d be throwing up at this point, because despite its looks, that place is pure poison. It’s a lair, a horrid, tainted, vile lair. It’s supposed to look like a friendly cottage to lure victims in. And now I know what the problem is. It’s a Blood Witch.”

“I haven’t gotten that far in your book . . .” Giselle said, uncertainly.

“It’s . . . special,” said Rosa, grimly. “When a witch who practices blood magic manages to find and mate with an Erlkoenig, and she has a child, the child is much, much worse than she is, and absolutely not human. If the offspring is male, it’s another Erlkoenig. If it’s female, it’s a Blood Witch. They’re rare. Thank God, they are rare, in part because an Erlkoenig is as likely to kill the witch as mate with her. But we have a Blood Witch here, and we are going to need help. The damned thing is as fast as a snake, as strong as a troll, and its hide is as tough as a crocodile’s. My crossbow bolts will just bounce off, and I’m not too optimistic about your bullets.”

She let go of the branches, and Giselle did the same. They both slid deeper back into the bushes and put their heads close together so they could talk. “What do we do?” Giselle asked.