“I know someone who might be able to help you,” she told Barclay.

In her presence, the others stopped their laughter and shot one another nervous looks.

“You do? I’d be really grateful if you could recommend me,” Barclay said. He used his grown-up-pleasing voice again, and this time it earned him an approving look from the woman. Even if her grip on his shoulder was a little too tight.

She pointed down the street. “Go to the Bog’s Inn and ask for Soren Reiker.”

Barclay muttered a thank-you and began to walk away. However, for the second time, Tadg blocked his path, eyeing the woman warily.

“Do you have another joke to add?” Barclay asked sharply.

Tadg opened his mouth to speak, but then he seemed to think better of it. He shook his head and stepped back, letting Barclay pass.

Barclay stalked off down the street wishing that Sycomore could be—if only a little bit—more like home.

TEN

The farther Barclay walked in the direction the woman had pointed, the bleaker his surroundings turned. The trees, once sparse, now covered most of the street, forcing Barclay to climb and weave his way down the path. Branches and thorns snagged at his clothes. Four-eyed Beasts lurked in the treetops, watching him ominously as though tracking their supper.

The Bog’s Inn looked as dismal as its neighborhood. The sign creaked and swung even though no wind blew. Most of its windows were boarded up.

Barclay warily pushed open the door and entered a lounge. The innkeeper peered at him shrewdly from behind the reception desk. She wore an eyepatch with a brass button sewn in the center, like the eye of a doll.

“What brings you here?” she crooned.

“I’m looking for a man named Soren Reiker.”

She nodded and leaned behind her desk, looking at something Barclay couldn’t see. “Go fetch the man on the top floor.”

Barclay expected a small child, or maybe even a dog, but to his horror, a giant ratlike Beast scurried from behind the desk. Its tail was made of metal plates, and they screeched loudly against the wood floor as it scampered up the stairs.

The old woman gave Barclay a smile. Most of her teeth were missing. “Would you like some tea?”

Barclay would actually love a cup of chaga mushroom tea after so many days spent wandering in the cold, but he didn’t want any here. He rubbed his arms, but his hair wouldn’t stop standing on end. He was considering giving up on the creepy Bog’s Inn and finding Viola when a man appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“What can I do for you?” he asked in a chipper voice. He was clean-shaven and wore expensive clothes, and his teeth—unlike the innkeeper’s—were all accounted for and very straight. He was even sort of handsome, like a hero from an adventure story. “My name is Soren Reiker.”

Barclay shook Soren’s hand. “My name is Barclay, Barclay Thorne. I’m looking for someone who might be able to help me remove a Beast Mark.”