Free The Feral Child by Che Golden

flashlight. Then she looked at her cousin. “You didn’t tell me earlier—about how you get into a faerie mound?” she asked Roisin.
    “What?”
    Maddy just widened her eyes impatiently and waited.
    Roisin frowned and thought for a second. “It was just one entry, and it was a bit creepy. Only a faerie can open the mound. Anyone else needs a guide.”
    “And how do I get the guide?” said Maddy.
    “You have to call them. If you want to get in, you have to give them something they value,” said Roisin.
    “What?”
    “The blood of an innocent.”
    Maddy stared at her. “You’re joking.”
    Roisin shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “That’s what it said. Why do you want to know this stuff anyway?”
    Maddy sighed and walked over to the cutlery drawer, taking out a sharp paring knife and adding it to the bag. She took George’s leash from its nail by the door, slipped the back-door key from beneath a china shepherdess posing on the kitchen shelf, and let herself out.
    She went behind the coal shed and picked up her backpack, throwing the food in with the poker. Then she walked around to the shed door and pulled the bolts back before ducking inside. Coal dust drifted up her nose and made it itch. She began to rummage around for anything that could intimidate a faerie. She took down an old horseshoe her grandfather had hanging up for luck and slung in the bag and grabbed a handful of iron filings, stuffing them in her jacket pocket and zipping it up.
    She jumped out of her skin when she turned around and nearly fell over Roisin.
    “Will you go away?” she hissed.
    “Tell me what you’re doing,” said her cousin.
    Maddy shoved past her and went to pull a sleepy George out of his kennel, before clipping the leash on to his collar and yanking the stiff gate open.
    “Wait!” said Roisin, running to keep up.
    “Go home!” said Maddy over her shoulder.
    Maddy walked around the house and out into the lane, heading straight toward Blarney Castle. The sun was sinking, lost behind the fingers of black clouds, and the tarmac on the wet road shone like a mirror every time car headlights swept over it. Maddy was cold, and her jeans were already wet. They felt like clammy cardboard tubes on her legs, and they were chafing the skin on her thighs. She was going to look like corned beef if she didn’t dry out soon. George wanted to stop at every streetlight and power-line pole to cock his leg, and Maddy had to keep yanking on the leash. The little terrier huffed in temper and tried to dig his paws in, but she pulled him along anyway. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she wasn’t in the mood to humor him. George’s stubby legs worked hard to keep up with her, and drops of rain glittered in his whiskers. The rain had forced most of the village indoors. The bonfire for tonight loomed in the village square, too wet to be lit now, Maddy supposed. A little gang of early trick-or-treaters passed her by, heads bent, voices low, the rain beating them around their hoods.
    Maddy swore when she heard Roisin running to catch her.
    “Maddy, would you just stop for a second and tell me what is going on?”
    “What’s the point? I tell lies, remember? How will you know if I’m telling you the truth?”
    “Maddy, you can’t blame Mam—you did lie,” protested Roisin. “You can’t get out of it like you normallydo. You can’t be angry at Mam for being upset. Your mam was her sister.”
    Maddy gritted her teeth and kept walking.
    Roisin stopped dead in the lane. “Maddy, please, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to have to call Mam on her mobile. Everyone is going to wonder where we are if I don’t.”
    “Why do you have to be such a pain, Roisin?” said Maddy. “I didn’t ask you to come, and I’m telling you: you’re not going to believe me.”
    “Tell me anyway,” said Roisin.
    “OK, fine.” Maddy walked back and glared at her cousin. “The night I went into the castle grounds, I think I