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

We pass through a room with sculptures that move fluidly from one form into another, and then a room filled with floating glass spheres that each contain miniature scenes constructed entirely from pieces of scrap metal. Another room seems sure to burn up at any moment as flames lick their way across every canvas. It's an enchantment of the paint, though—paint I've been lucky enough to use once—so the canvases remain intact.

We end up in the water-themed room—my favorite and the most suitable for our purposes. A stream of glittering, silvery water flows diagonally across the floor from one corner of the room to the other where it disappears into the wall. Flat round stones floating above its surface allow visitors to jump across from one side to the other. The canvases on the walls depict scenes of lakes, waterfalls and oceans with enchanted water paint twinkling, twisting and rushing but never leaving any canvas. Lumethon and I use the rocks to get to the other side of the stream where a tree trunk resting on its side serves as a seat. “Are you ready to begin?” she asks as I sit.

“Yes.” I try to clear my mind of all worries and distracting thoughts as I close my eyes.

“Breathe in through your nose,” Lumethon instructs. “Feel the air rushing into your body, feel it filling your lungs and expanding your chest. Now exhale, slowly, through your mouth, releasing all tension as you do so. And again, listening to the gentle movement of the water, slowly inhale. Focus on the air entering your body, filling you anew. Now release your breath and picture your lake, the place of relaxation you've chosen.”

I reach my imaginary peaceful setting quickly now that I've done this several times. It's a version of the lake outside Chase's home in the human realm. A wide expanse of water stretches out before me, gentle waves lap at the shore of the lake, a carpet of lush grass is wonderfully soft beneath me, and a clear blue sky finishes the picture.

“Now that you've reached a relaxed state,” Lumethon says, “think of your list. We're moving on to a scenario that produces a medium level of anxiety. Imagine yourself in that situation for as long as you can.”

Doing my best to hold onto my sense of calm, I imagine myself standing and walking away from the lake. The scene melts away to reveal the lowest level within Gaius's mountain home. The level where gargoyles and other creatures are kept. It begins with a small room with rough stone walls and a narrow slit of space in one corner. A tunnel so narrow I've never been brave enough to go through. I take in another slow breath as I picture myself approaching that horribly narrow tunnel. My heart rate kicks up a notch, but I focus on the soothingly repetitive water sounds as I keep moving forward.
Breathe
, I remind myself.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
I walk closer. I place my hands on the wall on either side of the dark space and stare into it. The tunnel is narrow enough that it might touch my shoulders if I were to enter it, and so dark that I have no way of seeing the other side. But despite the fact that my heart is jumping faster than normal, I don't feel overcome by panic. I take one step into the tunnel, then another. The darkness grows around me, pressing in, and that's when I shake my head, shudder, and open my eyes.

“I can't go into the tunnel yet,” I tell Lumethon, looking around and finding her leaning against the wall between two paintings. “I was almost there. I
planned
to go inside and the thought didn't freak me out, but I couldn't actually do it.”

“I know. You were projecting again. I saw everything.”

“Not again,” I say with a groan. “I told you this would be a problem. I can't keep control of my ability because I'm
too
relaxed.”

“That's fine, Calla. The point here is to get over your anxiety. Once you reach that point, you'll be able to face these kinds of situations while retaining control of your projections. And you've already shown improvement,” she adds with a smile. “When we did this two days ago, you didn't want to even approach the tunnel.”

I nod. “True. It is getting a bit easier.”

“Good. Now close your eyes, re-establish a relaxed state of mind, and go through the process again, imagining the same situation.”

“Okay, but you'll watch the door, right? I mean, in case I project again, which I probably will.”

“I've had a shield across the door the entire time. You needn't worry about anyone walking in.”

I repeat the exercise, approaching the tunnel quicker this time, my anxiety only spiking once I'm actually inside the dark, tight space. I try to push myself further, to remain in the tunnel for more than two or three seconds, but the fear of something pressing in around me—touching me, suffocating me—becomes unbearable far too quickly.

“Well done,” Lumethon says when I open my eyes and wriggle my shoulders as if to shake the fear away. “You're definitely getting there. Now, how do you feel about doing a real life test?”

“Real life?”

“The log you're sitting on is hollow. Do you think you can crawl through it from one side to the other?”

I stand up, walk to the end of the tree trunk, and peer down. Turns out it is hollow. Could I crawl through it? It's a ridiculously simple task, one that just about anybody else could easily perform, and yet … “I'm not quite sure about that.”

“Why not try?” Lumethon suggests, pushing away from the wall. “We're in a non-threatening situation. The log is wide enough that it won't touch your back while you're crawling through, and you can see the other side.”

I nod. Being able to see the other side and knowing how quickly it will be over definitely helps. I lower myself onto my hands and knees and look through. Lumethon crouches down on the other side and beckons with her hand. I eye the rough interior of the tree and let out a nervous laugh. “It'll be quite a tight fit. Even though it won't touch my head or my back, I'll know it's right there.”

“Don't think of it. Look at me and think of wide open space. Tell yourself you're crawling on the grass beside your lake and there's nothing above you but miles of fresh air.”

I picture it—the blue sky and endless space—and slowly, carefully start crawling. Rough bark scratches my palms and Lumethon smiles encouragingly up ahead. I think of space all around me. Space, space, space and … the inside of the tree all around me. Closing me in. I suck in a breath and crawl faster. Faster, faster until I finally emerge at the other end. I grab Lumethon's hand and let her pull me to my feet. “Phew. Okay, that wasn't
too
bad. But, like you said, this is a non-threatening situation, so I had time to get myself into a relaxed state of mind first. That's not always the case.”

“True, but we'll keep practicing until the relaxed state of mind is automatic and you no longer see confined space as a cause for anxiety. You're making good progress, Calla.”

“I know, I just … I feel so ridiculous celebrating something this simple. It's such a silly fear. I know it is, and yet, when the panic takes over, all rational thought flees from my mind.”

“Phobias aren't rational.” Lumethon moves to sit on the log. “And you have an entirely legitimate reason for developing this particular phobia.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, thinking of the hanging cage I was locked in as a child in the Unseelie Prince's dungeon. The black water and the wailing prisoners and the stink of sweat and terror. I shiver. That scenario is definitely at the top of my anxiety hierarchy. I'm leaving that one for last.

“I've got about twenty minutes left until I need to get to work,” Lumethon says, “so let's move on to illusion training.”

“More training. Right.” I push my hands through my hair. “Yes, okay. Let's do this.”

Lumethon's eyebrows rise. “Is something wrong? Have you had enough of our training sessions?”

“No, no. I'm very grateful for all the time you've spent helping me, and I know this is important. It's just … Don't you ever feel so overcome by impatience that you want to tear your hair out?” I tug at my hair again, as if she might need an illustration. “I mean, we train every day, and everyone goes to work like they normally would, and every night we go to bed, and all the while Chase is
locked in a dungeon where someone could kill him at any moment
. I know we're doing everything we can, but it still feels like
nothing
.”

“I understand your frustration,” an unexpected voice says, and I look across the room to find Gaius standing in the doorway. “I feel as if we should be actively searching for the Seelie Court at this very moment, not sparing a second for sleep or rest. I have to continually remind myself that we'd never find it that way, and even if we did, we'd never get in.” He steps into the room, admiring the painting of water falling upward, crashing into quiet foam and the top of the canvas instead of the bottom. “Lovely art gallery, by the way. I've never been here.” He leaps onto one of the floating stones and jumps to our side of the stream where he takes a seat on the tree trunk beside Lumethon. “So. Ready to trick my mind with your latest illusion?”

“You're here for my training? I thought Lumethon was doing that.”

“We both are,” she says to me. “Today we're attempting the one thing you keep telling me is impossible.”

Wonderful. I tilt my head back with a groan and mutter, “Simultaneous illusions.”

C
HAPTER

S
IX

Perry lets out a giant guffaw when I exit the faerie paths at the old Guild ruins late that afternoon. “What is that on your head?”

“Um … hair?” I say, feigning confusion.

“It's blue! And short!”

“I like it,” Gemma says, leaning back on her hands and examining my sleek blue bob. “It isn't real, is it?”

“No, it's a wig. I found it at the m—um, where I'm staying now.” Turns out Chase's team has an entire costume closet of items to disguise one's appearance, since most magical beings are immune to glamours. Gaius pointed the closet out to me this morning after my unsuccessful attempt at projecting multiple simultaneous illusions. “I thought it might be a good idea to hide my telltale golden hair,” I tell them, “since I almost got caught at the Guild this morning.”

“You what?” Gemma says with a small gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I was invisible to everyone around me, of course, but a surveillance bug must have flown past, so someone watching the orbs in that department saw me. I had to run.”

Gemma drops her hand into her lap. “That was close. You shouldn't do that again.”

“Yeah, probably not. I was sneaking around the lower levels.”

“Sounds like fun,” Perry says, rubbing his hands together. “What were you looking for?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” I say with a sly smile. I sit beside him and Gemma in the shade of a cracked and vine-entangled marble alcove that was once part of the old Creepy Hollow Guild. The Guild Chase destroyed when he was possessed with power that wasn't his. The thought of his past doesn't twist my insides into nausea as it once did. Chase is nothing like the person he was when he ruled as Lord Draven. I focus on the papers and textbooks spread on the ground around Perry. “You're acting unusually studious,” I tell him. “Is that homework?”

“Nope. Something way more interesting. I'll tell you about my rule-breaking if you tell me about yours.”

I roll my eyes, but I already know I'm going to tell them what I saw in that blue-lit room. They know of so much already, like my Griffin Ability and the fact that it was Zed who killed Saskia, spread the dragon disease, and framed me for both. I haven't told them who Chase once was, though, and they don't know anything about my relationship with him or that he's been captured. They
do
know about the prophecy that details the tearing down of the veil between our world and the human one. With Mom's trial taking place over the past few days, I figured they might hear whispers of the prophecy anyway. Best to give them the real story instead of letting them believe rumors.

I cross my legs and lean back on my hands as I tell them everything I saw in that horrible room with the glass boxes this morning. “I have no idea what it was about, but I doubt it's legal if they have to do it behind a locked door that only a handful of people are allowed through.”

“Ugh, that sounds so creepy,” Gemma says, pulling a face. “But you said it was Councilor Merrydale who came into the room? He wouldn't be involved in anything illegal, would he?”

“Okay, maybe not
illegal
, but … you know. Something that wouldn't be approved of if everyone knew about it. And that makes me wonder if maybe … it's something to do with Griffin Abilities.”

“You think those were Gifted fae in the boxes?” Perry asks.

“I don't know.” I pull one of his scrolls closer and write down the names N. Thornbough and J. Monkswood. “These are the two names I'm saw. I'm wary of going back inside the Guild if I don't have to. Could you search the Griffin List and see if these names are on it?”

Perry nods and takes the scroll from me, putting far more distance between himself and Gemma than necessary as he leans around her. He tucks the scroll into his bag. “This is messed up,” he adds. “We're supposed to be the good guys, aren't we? Not the guys who put people into boxes and experiment on them.”

“Well it isn't
all
of us,” Gemma says, looking at me instead of Perry, despite the fact that he's the one she's talking to. “Only a handful of guardians.”

“You know what I meant,” he mutters, turning back to the books spread in front of him, one of which looks like a Guild manual with the words Security Spells on the front and someone else's name on a sticker. “Anyway, I think I'm getting closer to figuring this thing out.”

“The detection spell?” I ask, referring to the magic placed on the homes of everyone close to me after I escaped the Guild. Perry told me he was sure there must be a way around it.

“Yeah, so this manual—that was conveniently left on a bench in the Guild dining room by a guard I was most definitely
not
distracting at the time—explains how to remove the spell. Unfortunately, it has to be done by the guardians who cast the detection spell in the first place, so that won't work. But I think I can put something on you to kind of … shield you from being detected.”

“If that works, it'll be amazing.”

“Mm, so I'm just figuring out … if …” He taps his stylus against the side of his head as he turns a page. “Where was that section about a—”

At the sound of footsteps moving through the overgrown weeds, my head snaps up. I quickly imagine myself invisible as someone walks around the crumbling piece of wall the alcove is attached to. “Oh, it's just you,” Gemma says to Ned, placing a relieved hand on her chest.

I'm about to release my hold on the invisibility illusion when Ned frowns at Gemma, looks around, and says, “She's here, isn't she.”

“Hey, Ned.” I reappear and give him a friendly wave.

Instead of returning the greeting, Ned frowns as his eyes travel over my blue hair. He lowers his voice and says to Gemma, “I told you we shouldn't do this.”

“Do what?” I ask, but I'm already remembering what Gemma said to me the day we painted the spare room with paint balloons. Ned didn't want to see me for some reason, and she told me he simply needed time to warm up to me. But perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the real reason was that the Guild had already suspended me at that point.

In a flat voice, Ned says, “I just don't feel comfortable hanging out with criminals.”

Well. From someone who doesn't usually say more than five words in an entire conversation, I wasn't expecting such blunt honesty. “I—I'm not a criminal, Ned. I haven't done anything wrong.”

He meets my eyes for a second before looking away. “You're required by law to add your name to the Griffin List. If you didn't do that, then you broke the law.”

“Ned …” Perry says.

Ned shakes his head and turns away. “I'm not doing this,” he says, walking back the way he came.

“Ned, come on,” Gemma calls.

“I'll go after him,” Perry says, jumping to his feet and hurrying after Ned.

I comb my fingers through the blue wig, wondering if I need to get out of here immediately. “Do you think … would he go back to the Guild and tell someone that I'm here right now?”

Gemma shakes her head. “I don't think so. He's a stickler for the rules, but I don't think he'd go that far. But we probably shouldn't let him know the next time we meet up with you.”

I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “I don't want you to have to lie to one of your friends because of me.”

“Then I guess we'll just … omit information instead of directly lying.”

“Isn't that kind of the same thing?”

“Not really. And you know how I feel about the Griffin List, so the only law you've broken is one that shouldn't exist.”

“Yeah.” I look around at the dappled afternoon light shifting across the overgrown ruins before returning my gaze to Gemma. “So, what's going on between you and Perry? You're acting really weird around each other.”

“What?” Gemma laughs awkwardly. “No we're not.”

“Gemma.”

She blinks at me, then groans and covers her face. “Fine.” She lowers her hands and plucks a leaf from the nearest vine. She twirls it between her fingers as her face, growing steadily pinker, remains firmly pointed toward her lap. “Remember when I got sick? From the dragon disease?”

“Yeah?”

“Well … Perry kind of … toldmehelovesme.”

“Oh, finally!” I clap my hands together as Gemma's head flies up.

“You knew?” she demands.

“Of course I knew. No one who's spent any time around the two of you could possibly have missed it.”

“I'm such an idiot.” She drops the leaf and smacks both hands against her forehead.

“So what did you say to him?”

“I was kind of dying at the moment he said it,” she mumbles, “so, uh, I didn't respond.”

“Okay, and after you recovered?”

“Um … I still haven't said anything.”

“Ah. Well, no wonder things are awkward.”

“I know! But what was I supposed to say? I mean, it just came out of nowhere, and I have a crush on someone else, and Perry is … he's
Perry
. My friend. The guy who teases me, not the guy who tears down a magically locked door to give me a cure while telling me I can't die because he loves me.”

I rest my chin on my knees. “That's quite heroic and romantic, actually.” Thoughts of Chase crowd my mind along with a desperate longing to feel his arms around me, a desire so strong that I have no doubt he'd feel it if I were wearing the ring right now. Fortunately, I'm not. Some feelings probably shouldn't be shared yet. Feelings I haven't had time to properly examine.

“It is heroic and romantic,” Gemma admits, “but I still don't really know how I feel about him. That's why I haven't said anything. I'm just … confused. And there are so many other important things to focus on. Assignments, and all the stuff you've been telling us about—the dragon disease and guardian hater groups and a terrifying prophecy that some ex-spy of Draven's wants to put into action. And now guardians are doing weird tests on unconscious fae. Next to all that, figuring out my love life seems completely trivial.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “I understand.” I'm trying to sort out all the same problems while at the back of my mind the memory of that kiss in the golden river teases me, tempting me to look away from everything important I'm supposed to be focusing on. “But maybe you should say
something
to Perry. Just to let him know you're thinking things through rather than leaving him hanging after his declaration of undying love for you.”

“Ugh, I know. You're right. It's all just so—” She cuts her words off as a faerie paths doorway opens nearby and Perry steps out. “And, um, then Olive was like, ‘Are you kidding me? You can't even do a triple flip? Who the hell let you into fifth year?' And Lily started crying right there. You can imagine how impressed Olive was with
that
.”

I shake my head, smiling in amusement at Gemma's abrupt change of subject. I wonder if the story's even true or if she made it up in desperation on the spot. Looking past her, I ask, “Did you talk to Ned?”

Perry nods as he resumes his spot on the ground on the other side of Gemma. “He says he understands that you're not a bad person but that rules exist for a reason and we're supposed to follow them, whether we agree with them or not.” He spreads out a blank scroll and picks up a quill. “Anyway, it's impossible to argue with him, so after making sure he wasn't about to report your whereabouts to the Guild at this very moment, I left it at that.”

“Are you sure he won't say anything?”

“He knows you're not the one responsible for Saskia's death and the disease spell, so he won't say anything because he obviously doesn't want you locked up for that. He does think your name should be on the Griffin List, though.”

“Well, now that the entire Guild knows I'm Gifted,” I say, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice, “I'm certain my name has been added to the list.”