Free The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 by Mike Shevdon

smoke. It slowed and then hovered out over the lane.
        "They're looking for somewhere to land. Time for us to leave," said Garvin. "You first."
        I stepped into the clearing where the node-point of the Way was. The presence of the node was one of the reasons this little house had been chosen for us, that and the trees Blackbird loved. I had loved the place initially, but now it was filled with too many memories. I took a last glance through the trees at the burning shell of the house. The thatch had collapsed inward and flames flickered in the column of smoke.
        Then I turned and stepped on to the Way. The deep blue-black of the void answered my call as it swelled beneath me and carried me far from the smoke-tinged clearing to a room beneath a house filled with random piles of our belongings. I arrived a refugee. Our things were stacked higgledy-piggledy around the room, black sacks on boxes, pans holding plants. I noticed an empty vase that wasn't ours and had been in the house when we arrived. Never mind, it would have only been burned if it had stayed.
        Garvin appeared after me in a swirl of twisting air. He looked around, surveying the debris of my life.
        "I'll ask Mullbrook to find you rooms here for the moment," he said. "Most of the house isn't used very much."
        He addressed Fellstamp and Amber. "Try and stack this lot in the corners, if you can. We may need access to the Way and I don't want anyone tripping over. Niall, you're with me."
        I followed him upstairs, though the hall with the grand staircase and into a room which must once have been an elegant salon, a place for receiving guests. Now covers shrouded the chairs and the curtains were drawn against the daylight. Garvin pulled a curtain back slightly, letting a wedge of sunlight stripe the room.
        "Sit," he said.
        I flopped on to a two-person sofa, the covers inflating in a puff of air and dust. He turned an armchair around to face me and sat on the edge of it, his hands braced on his knees.
        "Tell me everything you can remember. Start from when I left you."
        He watched me while I told him what I had found out. He didn't interrupt, he just let me speak. When I reached the part where I could hear Alex struggling, I stopped.
        "They were hurting her, Garvin. I could hear her yelling for them to stop."
        "Finish the report, Dogstar. Then we'll talk about what we know."
        Obediently, I finished the tale, ending with him telling me to get dressed.
        "So" – he sat back in the chair – "we know they have her but we don't know where."
        "Who has her, Garvin? Who would take my daughter?"
        He clasped his hands together in his lap, then leaned forward again.
        "The Feyre and humanity have lived alongside each other in peace for centuries. Peace is a relative term, though, and occasionally there are problems. When there are problems on our side, we deal with them. That is part of what the Warders do. On humanity's side, though, things are more complicated. Most humans aren't even aware that the Feyre exist, and that's the way they like it. Occasionally, though, things spill out. People can come into their gifts unexpectedly. If the gift is weak, it isn't usually an issue. Those people can live on the edges of society. They are the psychics, the faith healers, the fortune tellers."
        "You think Alex has come into her gifts?"
        "We know something happened. They said that three other girls died at the scene. As far as we know, Alex is the only survivor."
        "So what happened to Alex? Where is she now?"
        "They will have her safe, somewhere. She will be cared for."
        "What do you mean, 'cared for'? What are you saying?"
        "I'm saying that not everyone comes into their gifts cleanly. For some, the leap is too great. Their bodies know what power is, but their minds…"
        "She's not mad,