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and I hesitated, not knowing what to do. Clearly, it was in trouble, but helping the fey went against all the rules I’d taught myself over the years. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t interact with the Fair Folk. Never make a contract, and never accept their help. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and not look back.
    Still, if I helped this once, the piskie would be in my debt, and I could think of several things I could demand in exchange. I could demand that she leave me alone. Or leave Todd alone. Or abandon whatever scheme the half-breed was having her do.
    Or, better yet, I could demand that she tell no one about my sister and my connection to her.
    This is stupid, I told myself, still watching the piskie crawl weakly around my rattan , trying to pull herself up the length of the stick. You know faeries will twist any bargain to their favor, even if they owe you something. This is going to end badly.
    Oh, well. When had I ever been known for doing the smart thing?
    With a sigh, I bent down and grabbed the piskie by the wings, lifting her up in front of me. She dangled limply, half-delirious, though from what I had no idea. Was it me, or did the faery seem almost…transparent? Not just her wings; she flickered in and out of focus like a blurry camera shot.
    And then, I saw something beyond the piskie’s limp form, lurking in the darkness at the end of the locker room. Something pale and ghostlike, long hair drifting around its head like mist.
    “Ethan?”
    Guro’s voice echoed through the locker room, and the thing vanished. Quickly, I unzipped my bag and stuffed the piskie inside as my instructor appeared in the doorway. His eyes narrowed when he saw me.
    “Everything all right?” he asked as I shouldered the bag and stepped forward. And, was it my imagination, or did he glance at the corner where the creepy ghost-thing was? “I thought I heard something. Chris isn’t hiding in a corner ready to jump out, is he?”
    “No, Guro. It’s fine.”
    I waited for him to move out of the doorway so I wouldn’t have to shoulder past him with my bag. My heart pounded, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something was still in the room with me; I could feel it watching us, its cold eyes on my back.
    Guro’s eyes flicked to the corner again, narrowing. “Ethan,” he said in a low voice, “my grandfather was a Mang-Huhula —you know what that means, yes?”
    I nodded, trying not to seem impatient. The Mang-Huhula was the spiritual leader of the tribe, a faith-healer or fortune teller of sorts. Guro himself was a tuhon, someone who passed down his culture and practices, who kept the traditions alive. He’d told us this before; I wasn’t sure why he was reminding me now.
    “My grandfather was a wise man,” Guro went on, holding my gaze. “He told me not to put your trust in only your eyes. That to truly see, sometimes you had to put your faith in the invisible things. You had to believe what no one else was willing to. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    I heard a soft slither behind me, like wet cloth over cement, and my skin crawled. It took all my willpower not to draw my rattan and swing around. “I think so, Guro.”
    Guro paused a moment, then stepped back, looking faintly disappointed. Obviously, I’d just missed something, or he could tell I was really distracted. But all he said was, “If you need help, Ethan, all you have to do is ask. If you’re in trouble, you can come to me. For anything, no matter how small or crazy it might seem. Remember that.”
    The thing, whatever it was, slithered closer. I nodded, trying not to fidget. “I will, Guro.”
    “Go on, then.” Guro stepped aside, nodding. “Go home. I’ll see you at the tournament.”
    I fled the room, forcing myself not to look back. And I didn’t stop until I reached my truck.
    * * *
    My phone rang as soon as I was home.
    After closing my bedroom door, I dropped my gym bag on the bed, listening to the