“Well, I appreciate you checking. I just came by to look in on Elra—he’s been a little on edge of late.”

A tiny flying lizard shoots out from behind the counter and latches onto Anna’s face. No, not a lizard—a dragon. About the size of my palm with iridescent scales and gossamer wings, the dragon clings to Anna’s face in a hug, its miniscule pink tongue tickling her eyebrow.

She laughs, gathering the dragon into her hands. “Hi, Elra.”

“Have you seen a man with blond hair and green eyes lurking around?” I ask hopefully. “He’s about this tall, looks really mean.”

Mr. Andrade shakes his head. “Can’t say I have. I’ve only just come by. Elra might be able to help, though.”

Anna’s face lights up. “That’s a great idea!” When all I do is stare at her, she holds the glittering dragon up. “Pocket dragons are great at finding things. You just have to touch him and give him an image to go off of.”

I stare at the dragon. The dragon stares back. Max hisses at him.

Anna proffers me the dragon, and I take him with a sigh. His little body is shockingly cold to the touch, and his thin tail circles around my thumb. I focus on an image of Kaden, and the dragon begins to warm in my hands. Then he launches into the air and out the door, tongue flicking out to scent the air. Just as quickly he’s in my hands again, and this time an image forms in my mind: a beautiful white bridge over a lazy river, surrounded by trees and fog.

I describe it to Anna, and she claps her hands together. “He’s in the Faerie Garden. Let’s go!”

We return Elra to Mr. Andrade with a thank-you and take off with Max down the street. The rain has picked up, coming down in a heavy drizzle.

Anna’s voice takes on a nervous edge as we run. “What exactly is our plan here?”

My hands curl into fists, pumping at my sides. “Get some answers.”

Make him pay for what he did. The thought surprises me, but I don’t push it away. Whoever this guy is, the person he works for not only took my parents from me but might have taken my brother too. He destroyed my entire life, and I want to know why.

Anna looks concerned, but then my eyes catch on a painted sign over her shoulder that reads THE FAERIE GARDEN. It pokes out between two of the witches’ cottages, the buildings casting long shadows over a gravel path that disappears into an expanse of trees.

We follow the path into a landscaped forest, where tufts of fog hang low to the ground and the only sound is the pluck of raindrops against leaves.