A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6) (30 page)

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T
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VIOLET

In the shocked silence that follows Councilor Bouchard's revelation, I meet Ryn's gaze. Every thought racing through my mind is reflected in his eyes. As if we haven't been through enough in the past week, our world has once again shifted suddenly and irreversibly. The secret each of us has kept our entire lives is now evident for everyone to see.

Griffin Gifted. Feared. Not trusted. Not permitted to work for any Guild.

Councilor Bouchard scans the murmuring crowd, his eyes settling on every glowing form, memorizing the men and women who've broken the law by failing to register themselves and working illegally as guardians. His eyes narrow as they focus on me. I know he recognizes me from the dealings we've had in the past. My support of the reptiscilla petitions. My request to remain a guardian in service of the Guild while working at the Reptiscillan Protectors Institute. “They called you ‘Guild traitor,' did they not?” he shouts to me. “Seems they were right. You've been lying all along. You and all the other Gifted hiding among us.” He looks out at the glowing fae with disdain as the murmurs rise and the crowd shifts and moves apart, leaving rings of space around the ‘traitors' who've managed to keep their abilities secret until this moment. “We'll soon get you all on that list where you—”

“Hey!” I yell, jumping to my feet, unable to endure for one more second just how
wrong
this all is. Celebrating death, revealing innocent Gifted, and all the while our world is slowly sizzling into nothingness right behind our foolish Head Councilor. “Have you seen what's happening behind you? Have you seen the tear growing larger and the two worlds slowly eating each other up? Stop turning us against each other and DO SOMETHING!”

Shouts of agreement and cries of concern tell me I'm not the only one worried about the growing hole. Councilor Bouchard stares at me for a moment, stunned, before swinging around and finally paying attention to the most important reason everyone assembled here tonight: to prevent a tear in the veil. A task we have utterly failed at. Councilor Bouchard must have known the hole was there; he couldn't possibly have missed it as he pulled himself onto the statue to do his big Griffin Gifted revelation. But perhaps he didn't notice it was growing bigger. Perhaps he didn't realize until now that this island and everyone on it will soon be consumed.

The edges of the gap slowly eat away at the sky as the hole grows large, moves closer. On the other side, in the human world, the field is almost gone. In the road just beyond, a car stands abandoned with doors flung open. Another car comes to a halt behind it, reverses, turns, and speeds away. On our side, the grass just beyond the monument sizzles and vanishes.

Councilor Bouchard leaps off the statue and backs away along with the rest of the crowd. Shouts rise up, questions of what to do or where to run. Some guardians raise their hands toward the tear, clearly trying to stop it with magic, but it inches ever closer.

Think, think, think
, I tell myself, but I have no answer for this. Nothing I've ever learned, read or heard has prepared me for a tear in the very fabric of our world. I bend over Ryn to check his wound as my mind continues racing. The skin's starting to knit together, but I'm sure there's still plenty of damage underneath.

“We can't stop it,” Ryn says. “We have to get away. Find out how to stop it and come back. Where's—” He struggles to sit, but I push him down before he hurts himself further. “Where's Calla?”

“I don't know.” I look wildly around, as if she might suddenly materialize.

“She must be here … somewhere. She wouldn't have …” He pauses to take in a few heavy breaths. “She wouldn't have left Chase.”

“I know, but I don't see her. Filigree, help me lift Ryn,” I add as I stand. We have to get down to the boats somehow. The one that brought me here wouldn't rise into the bottom of the island the way the boats normally do when they get here, perhaps because the canal that receives the boats was already full. My magic propelled me up, but it's going to be a lot more challenging getting back down with Ryn.

“We can't leave without Calla,” Ryn says, groaning as Filigree, bear-shaped now, lifts him from the ground. “I only came here to make sure she—aah, sharp claws, Fili—to make sure she didn't get herself killed going after those witches.”

“The only place she could have gone is further into the trees. Filigree can carry you, and I'll start looking—” Louder shouts from the guardians make me turn back as Filigree lowers Ryn's feet to the ground so he'll stop complaining. At least half the guardians are running now, clearly having given up on trying to seal the tear. As for the tear itself … “Oh crap. It's reached the monument.” Which means it isn't far from reaching the edge of the grove of trees. And if Calla's in there … Fear throbs at my temples as the base of the statue collides with what remains of the grassy field. I need to
move
, to find her, but I'm frozen in place, both wanting and not wanting to see a monument that's stood for centuries, the powerful guarding force of the mer kingdom, crumble as it meets the edge of the veil.

It doesn't.

I suck in a breath and hold it. Waiting, counting, hoping. Still, the veil's edge moves no further. Looking out to either side, it doesn't seem to be stretching any wider. “It's stopped,” I whisper. “Is that … possible? All we needed to do was place a powerful enough obstacle in its way?”

“You say that as if it's a simple solution,” Ryn says, his arm around Filigree's neck as Filigree holds him upright. “How many objects containing several centuries' worth of magic do you see lying around?”

“I suppose it makes sense,” I say, answering myself. “The monument is powerful enough to create an opening in the veil, so it should be powerful enough to … close it? Do you think we can—”

“Stop them! Don't let them get away!” My gaze swings away from the trident statue and toward Councilor Bouchard. Following his line of sight, I see two glowing figures racing away past the side of the prison. “Don't let
any
of those lying traitors get away!”

Madness follows as guardians tackle the Gifted faeries in their midst. Some detach themselves from the crowd and run toward us.

“Dammit,” I mutter, backing away as Filigree lifts Ryn. There's nothing behind us but trees and the edge of the island, but if we have to jump into the water far below, that's what we'll do. I don't want to be interrogated or have my guardian markings deactivated. I don't want to be tagged so the Guild knows my exact whereabouts for the rest of my life, and Ryn feels the same way. “Filigree, we have to—”

A whooping cry sounds from the sky, and a gargoyle and its rider come swooping down. A young man falls off the gargoyle's back as it lands clumsily. I don't know who he is, this tall faerie with green in his hair, but he stations himself between us and the guardians racing to catch us. With snarling growls, another three gargoyles land beside him and face our pursuers.

Someone touches my arm. With a yelp, I jump away, a knife flashing into existence in my hand. “Hey, careful!” a woman says breathlessly. “I'm here to help! You probably don't remember me, but I'm Chase's friend.” She tugs my arm—with a gloved hand—and suddenly I recognize her.

“Scarlett?” I say.

“Yes! Come on.”

I hesitate. After all, she tried to kill me once, and she used to work for the Unseelie Prince Marzell. But if Chase managed to change his ways, maybe Scarlett did too. Besides, Ryn and I don't exactly have many options right now.

“Go with her,” Ryn says, struggling to look past Filigree at the guardians and gargoyles. “Now!”

We race into the grove as fast as Filigree's bear legs can move. Zigzagging between trees, dodging beneath branches, sparing a glance or two over my shoulder. It isn't long before we reach the other side. On the grass, right near the edge of the island, a group of fae are gathered in a huddle. As we come to a halt, they look around at us, concern written on each of their faces. Someone moves aside, and I see who's kneeling at the center of their circle.

I jolt backward in fright, my brain immediately rejecting what I'm seeing. He cheated death once before, but this time he had no eternity necklace. Nothing to save him from the blazing inferno. “You—you're—dead. I saw you die … in the fire …”

Chase looks up at me with pleading, desperate eyes. “That never happened. She made you see everything. And now we can't wake her up.”

C
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VIOLET

An illusion. Of course it was an illusion. I should have realized when Calla didn't go racing to rescue Chase, and when he was overpowered so quickly by the witch. But it was all so real. Surely the flames that almost seared my skin with their intense heat were real. That can't have been an imaginary fire. But if the fire was real … then who was burning within it?

I push my questions to the back of my mind as we make our hasty escape from the island. Ryn and I—and Filigree, in mouse form in my pocket—take the dragon that swoops down to join the company moments after we arrive at the edge of the island. I'm told by everyone here that dragon riding is a far smoother experience than gargoyle riding, which means Ryn's wound is less likely to reopen. Everyone else takes a gargoyle. Chase rides with Calla, strapping the harness around both of them and holding tightly onto her unconscious form. I tell myself Calla's just exhausted from projecting such a detailed illusion, that's all. Nothing more sinister than that. It's impossible not to worry, though, especially with Chase looking so concerned.

It isn't long before we see the cliffs in the distance. As we speed through the air toward them, I keep my arms wrapped firmly around Ryn's chest, high enough above his middle that I'm nowhere near hurting him. I almost lost him tonight, and I don't plan on letting go of him any time soon. His hand settles over mine, and I rest my head against his back, remembering a journey from long ago that took place on a dragon named Arthur.

I don't know where we're headed now, but it doesn't matter. If it's somewhere that's safe for Chase and his friends, then it will be safe for us too. It's probably the same place Calla's been staying. The secret place she wouldn't tell us anything about in case Ryn or I were ever questioned by the Guild. The secret she no longer needs to keep from us, since it's unlikely we'll ever set foot inside a Guild ever again. The thought forms a hollow ache that adds itself to the well of pain residing deep within me.

I look away from the pain and focus on where we're going. Into a giant faerie paths doorway, side by side. The elf on the gargoyle beside us stretches her hand toward me. I lean down and take hold of it as darkness surrounds us. Then we're moving out of the paths and onto frost-covered ground devoid of life, except for the vast lake stretching out toward a snow-capped mountain. Next, we're flying again, speeding over the water toward the mountain. And finally, we soar through an opening in the side of the mountain and into a gigantic cavern.

Chase's gargoyle has barely touched the ground when he starts removing his harness. He climbs off the gargoyle and carefully takes Calla into his arms. Then he strides away with her, Scarlett following close behind him. No, not Scarlett. Elizabeth. That's what everyone seems to call her now.

As I help Ryn down off the dragon, the tall woman with startlingly white hair and pale eyes stops beside us. Lumethon, if I remember correctly from the hurried introductions that took place before we left the island. “I'll help you upstairs,” she says. “We need to get through a narrow tunnel first, which might be a little difficult, but if he can walk—”

“I can walk,” Ryn says, though how he knows this, I'm not sure. He hasn't taken a single step since that spear went through him.

“Then it will be easier,” Lumethon says. “There are several unoccupied bedrooms upstairs, and you're welcome to rest in one of them. Also,” she adds, “I have knowledge of certain healing magic. If you'll let me, I'm sure I can help.”

“Thank you,” Ryn says. “I'd be very grateful for that.”

We move away from the dragon, and it turns out that Ryn can walk after all. But it causes him a considerable amount of pain, so in the end, once we're past the narrow tunnel, I ask Filigree to carry Ryn. He climbs out of my pocket, where he's been nestling since we left the island, and shifts into a bear once more.

As we follow Lumethon upstairs, I say, “Please explain to me what happened back on the island. With the illusion, I mean. What was real and what wasn't? It's … unsettling not knowing the difference.”

“Of course,” she says with a smile. “Let's see. When the battle with the prisoners was over, we took the gargoyles around the side of the island and landed in the trees. We reached Calla's side just as Chase was being restrained. We were ready to rush in and fight every guardian to get him out, but Calla stopped us. She said the Guild would never stop hunting him and that the world would live in fear of his return, and that the best way to end this would be with the world believing he had died.

“So while you were seeing whatever Calla wanted you to see, we forced every guardian holding onto Chase back into the crowd. They couldn't see us, so they weren't expecting to have to fight anyone off. Then three of us created a shield layer. I think Calla imagined it silver, so everyone would think it was from the witches. Darius and Kobe then brought the body of one of the dead prisoners. Elizabeth started the fire. It was the same as the fire Calla imagined. Powerful, enchanted witch flames that would consume a body quickly. Easy enough for Elizabeth to do, since she's familiar with witch magic. Then we all ran into the trees to hide, planning to get away as soon as we could. That's when Calla collapsed.”

“From overuse of magic?”

Lumethon looks away as we reach a hallway and continue going up. “I don't know. Hopefully that's all it is.”

“So when I ran at the witch to try and stop her from doing that fire spell and her magic threw me back … how did that happen if it was an illusion?”

“That was Gaius, actually,” Lumethon says, her voice taking on an apologetic tone. “His magic threw you back. We couldn't risk you interfering.”

“But … okay.” I shake my head. “How did you pull this off if you were seeing the same illusion everyone else was seeing? That must have been tremendously confusing.”

“We weren't seeing the same thing you were seeing. At least … Calla was trying not to show it to us. But she hasn't yet perfected that particular technique, so we saw a fuzzy, translucent version of what you saw. Which was actually quite helpful,” she adds. “At least we knew what everyone else was seeing.”

We finally reach the top of the stairs and head along a carpeted passageway. We pass a room with books and plants, and then a bedroom on the right—Calla's bedroom, judging from the fact that Chase and Elizabeth are standing by the bed. “Do you think …” I lean back as we pass the door, trying to see more of what's going on. My voice edged with fear, I say, “What if there's something else wrong with her?”

“Go and find out,” Ryn says from Filigree's arms. “Please. I need to know if she's okay.”

I reach for his hand as we turn into another bedroom. “I don't want to leave you.”

“I'm fine,” Ryn insists. “I'm a faerie. A hole in the stomach is nothing.”

“It's definitely not nothing.”

Lumethon lights the lamp hovering in the corner while Filigree lowers Ryn onto the bed. I don't let go of his hand. As he settles back against the pillows, relief passes over his features. He squeezes my fingers. “Please. Please just go check on her. I'm not going anywhere. You can come straight back here and tell me what's going on.” After a pause, I nod. I turn to leave, but he tightens his grip and says, “Wait.” He pulls me down toward him and presses a kiss to my lips, and then his cheek against my cheek. “I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

I can't speak all of a sudden, so I nod and swallow and finally manage to whisper, “I love you too.”

The sound of raised voices reaches my ears as I turn back down the corridor toward Calla's room. I reach her doorway as Chase shouts, “You should have said something! You should have told the rest of the team.”

“It was her choice not to say anything,” Elizabeth replies.

“About what?” I ask as I walk in. “What's going on?”

Chase drops his hands to his sides and shakes his head. “Ask Elizabeth,” he says, his tone hard.

As I walk to the side of the bed, toward the still, golden haired girl I love as much as if she were my own sister, Elizabeth speaks. She tells me of a witch's curse that would drain Calla of her power every time she used her Griffin Ability. She would grow steadily weaker until her core magic was depleted and life vanished from her body. Then her Griffin Ability would become the witch's.

I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, my hands pressed over my mouth.

“She didn't want to tell anyone,” Elizabeth says. “She knew Gaius and the others would try to keep her from using her ability, and without her, we had no way into the Seelie Palace to rescue Chase. I made her a tonic to keep the curse's effects at bay, but there was no way of knowing how long it would work.”

“Well now we know,” Chase says quietly, stopping beside me and taking Calla's hand gently in his. “That last illusion tonight was too much.”

“How do we heal her?” I ask. “Or is it too—” My voice breaks. “It is too late?”

“If the witch won't lift the curse, then she must be killed.” Elizabeth turns her gaze to Chase. “And we know how you feel about killing.”

A flicker of hope burns within me as I remember Filigree coming to my rescue in a form more ferocious than any I've ever seen him in. “One of the witches is dead.”

Elizabeth's eye snap back to me. “How? Which one?”

I wonder how none of them saw this, but they must have been back in the trees by then, with their attention focused on Calla. “I don't know which one. Filigree—uh, my shape-shifting pet—transformed into a dragon when one of the witches tried to attack me. He … well, the witch ended up between his jaws. He flung her around and tossed her away. I didn't see her after that, but … his fangs punctured through her body, and her neck must surely have been broken from being shaken around like that. I don't believe she could possibly have survived.”

Elizabeth's expression is grim. “You don't know what a witch can survive,” she says as she stares at Calla.

“If it was the right witch,” I say, “and she did die, then what does that mean for Calla?”

Elizabeth gives a slight shake of her head and lifts her shoulders. “Hopefully it means the curse ended just in time.” She moves to the other side of the room and leans against the wall with her arms crossed.

I turn to Chase and quietly ask, “Will you stay with her?”

“I won't leave her side,” he says, which is pretty much what I expected.

My heart is heavy as I walk back to the other bedroom. I don't want to tell Ryn what's happened. I don't want him to have to consider losing his sister so soon after losing …
Victoria
. And the way I last spoke to Calla … I shouted at her. Blamed her. But I didn't mean any of it, and I may never get to tell her that.

I breathe in a deep shaky breath as I enter the bedroom. Relief fills me when I see Ryn's closed eyes and his gently rising chest. “Is he asleep?” I ask Lumethon, who's quietly packing bottles back into a bag.

“Yes. I'm sorry. I gave him something for the pain, and drowsiness is a side effect. Since all his body's energy is going into healing him right now, it didn't take long before he fell asleep.”

“That's fine. No need to apologize. I'm glad he's resting properly now.”

She takes her bag and stops beside me on her way out, giving me a reassuring smile. “Gaius and I will be around if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

She shuts the door.

Silence.

Before I let everything come crashing down, I remove my shoes. I take my jacket off. I gently move Filigree, sleeping in curled up cat form, to the bottom of the bed and climb beneath the covers. I get as close to Ryn as possible, placing my head beside his on his pillow and wrapping my arm around him. He mumbles, half-asleep, and reaches for my hand. His fingers wrap around mine before relaxing again.

I breathe out slowly as everything,
everything
, washes over me. Our baby is gone. Calla is cursed and possibly dying. Our names are on the Griffin List. We'll never again work for the Guild. We'll be on the run forever if we don't want to be tagged and tracked.