A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) (17 page)

“Yes, so after the Council voted and decided the Guild should support the reptiscilla training institute, some guardians volunteered to go work there instead. You know, help them get their whole system set up and develop training and all that.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Perry says as he pokes at the leftover contents of Gemma’s smoothie with a spoon.

“Exactly. But there were obviously people at the Guild who weren’t happy with that. Vi and everyone else who volunteered were called Guild traitors. It’s actually kind of a joke in our family now, but, if you think about it, it’s completely unfair. They’re trying to make our world a safer place by training more people to protect it, and they get told they’re traitors for doing that?”

“Not cool,” Ned says quietly, shaking his head.

“Who should we throw it at?” Perry asks, taking the crumpled, flattened paper from me and shaping it into a ball. He looks around. “We could probably reach Blaze from here. Or … oh, your mentor’s here this morning, Calla. How about we bounce this off the back of her head?”

“No!” I grab the paper back from him. “She’ll use it as a reason to get me suspended. She’d love to see me—”

A shrill siren rings out, cutting off the rest of my words. “Ah, man,” Ned says above the noise. “I just started eating.”

“What does that mean?” I ask. All around the dining hall, people are tapping their trays and standing up.

“Emergency drill,” Gemma says. “They make us practice at least three times a year. We have to report to lesson room four.”

“Five,” Perry corrects as we join the crowd moving toward the door. “We’re in fifth year now, remember?”

“Oh yes.”

“Wait, listen.” I grab Gemma’s arm as I hear a female voice speaking over the siren.

“This is not a drill. This is not a drill. This is not a—”

“Oh crap,” Gemma says.

The crowd moves faster as people become aware of the message. Raised voices and fearful expressions surround us as everyone jostles to get out of the dining hall. We eventually make it to lesson room five, where we have to listen to our classmates’ theories on what’s gone wrong while we wait for a mentor to show up. After about ten minutes, Olive strides in.

“Okay, here’s what’s going on,” she says, crossing her arms. “An enchanted storm has been detected over the Bordeon Mountains not too far from the edge of Creepy Hollow.”

Silence greets her statement, then someone murmurs, “Draven?”

“No way,” Blaze says. “He’s gone.”

“There must be other people who can do spells that influence the weather,” Ling says. “Draven can’t have been the only one.”

“Whatever the cause of the storm,” Olive says, “it is large enough and close enough to be considered a threat. All trainees are being sent home until further notice.”

“Yes!” Perry whispers beside me. “Holiday!”

“Why can’t we stay here?” Saskia asks. “What if there’s some kind of attack and you need us to help?”

“We won’t,” Olive says firmly. “The only guardians allowed to fight for the Guild are those who’ve graduated. Trainees are to be sent home. That’s the protocol in this situation.”

“Stupid protocol,” Saskia mutters.

“Please proceed to the foyer and line up in two straight lines,” Olive says. “The faerie paths blocking charm will be lifted from the foyer walls for the next few minutes so we can send you all home as quickly as possible.”

Amidst plenty of muttering, everyone starts filing out of the room. I walk over to Olive, trying not to think of my disastrous assignment last night and the unpleasant exchange we had afterwards. “You don’t really think Draven is back, do you?”

“It certainly looks like he might be,” she says, her sharp eyes pointed over my shoulder as she watches the trainees leaving.

“That isn’t possible, though. Draven is dead.” I’ve heard the story first-hand from the person who killed him: Violet.

Olive turns her gaze to me. “Is he? There was no body. And I’m never satisfied unless I see a body.”

Well, that’s mildly disturbing. “A dead body proves nothing,” I tell her. “That can be faked.”

Her brow furrows in suspicion, then smoothes as understanding comes to her eyes. “Of course. You’ve obviously heard Kale Fairdale’s story because of your brother.”

“His story isn’t a secret anymore, is it?” I say, somewhat defensively.

“No. But we didn’t spread it around either.”

“We?” Was Olive involved in Vi’s dad’s faked death?

Olive makes her signature you’re-wasting-my-time noise. “Those of us who were around when Kale ‘died’ and then discovered after the Destruction that his death was a ruse. But that has no relevance now. There is no proof that Draven was actually killed, which means it’s possible he survived.”

“How about the fact that he completely vanished along with the enchanted winter that covered almost the entire fae world. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“No. My guess is that he was weakened, and it’s taken him this long to regain his former power. Now, you need to join your fellow trainees in the foyer.” She points to the door, and I realize I’m the only one left in the room.

I hurry down the corridor toward the foyer. When I get there, I see a number of faerie paths doorways opening and closing as trainees step into them one after the other. A mentor stands at each doorway, ticking names off a scroll. I join Gemma, Perry and Ned.

“Oh, there you are,” Gemma says. “Do you want to hang out with us for the rest of the day?”

“Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do actually.” I lean closer to her and say, “You know that tattoo artist I met when I was Underground the other night? Do you know where I can find him during the day?”

“That’s the ‘stuff’ you have to get done?” she says with raised eyebrows. “A tattoo?”

“No, I just need to talk to him about … something.”

“Okay, I’m going to try pretend I’m not super curious about whatever’s going on with you and the tattoo guy—”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“—and instead tell you that you can find him Underground at a place called Wickedly Inked.”

“Okay, thanks. Have you been there?” Gemma doesn’t seem like the tattoo type, but I don’t want to offend her by saying so.

“A few times. My brother has a bit of a tattoo addiction, and Chase is his favorite artist. Sometimes I go with when he gets a new one.”

I nod as we shuffle forwards in the queue. When it’s my turn to walk into the darkened paths, I don’t think of my home in Carnelian Valley. Instead, I think of the Underground tunnels and hold the words Wickedly Inked in my mind.

* * *

I walk into Wickedly Inked and find a spiky-haired elf girl sitting behind the counter writing on her amber. After looking around at the many framed artworks hanging on the walls, I walk over and say, “Hi, is Chase here?”

She spends another few moments writing on her amber, then looks up. She takes in my appearance before saying, “You don’t have an appointment.”

Wow. Friendly girl. “I know that. Is Chase here?”

“Yeah, but he’s busy.”

“Well, I’ll wait then.”

“For what? You don’t have an appointment.”

A flicker of anger burns to life inside me, but I smother it, reminding myself to remain as emotionless as possible if I don’t want to find myself flung into the past. “Okay, then I’d like to make an appointment.”

“For what time?”

“For whatever time you have available.”

“I don’t think we have any—”

The door behind the counter opens and a man walks out ahead of Chase. He has the same bald head and slitted eyes as the drakoni club owner, which causes panic to clutch my insides. But he’s taller and leaner and can’t possibly be the same man.

Be calm, be calm, be calm
, I remind myself.

“… all settle down in no time,” the drakoni man is saying. “Then we can get back to business as usual.”

“Yeah, just keep me updated.” Chase shakes the man’s hand and says goodbye before looking my way. If he’s surprised to see me here, he doesn’t show it. “Miss Goldilocks,” he says. “Skipping school today?”

“Miss Goldilocks?”

“Yes. A little girl with golden locks who features in a well-known human nursery story you’ve probably never heard of.”

Fantastic. So now I’m a little girl. “Yes, I’m skipping school,” I say as I cross my arms. “I decided I’d rather get a tattoo than a guardian education. I was thinking a dragon. A big one. Right across my back.”

I was hoping to shock them, but the girl gives me an unimpressed I-don’t-think-so look while Chase appears amused.

“Fine. I’m not skipping school. The Guild’s freaking out because of an enchanted storm, so they sent us home for the day. I figured I’d come see you now.”

“An enchanted storm,” the elf girl says, her voice devoid of emotion. “That sounds terrifying. Don’t you think that sounds terrifying, Chase?” She isn’t looking him, though. She’s still looking at me, and I’m about ninety-eight percent sure she’s making fun of me.

“Anyway.” I turn to Chase. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Still looking amused, Chase steps to the side and gestures to the open door behind the counter. Ignoring the girl, I walk past him into a room where the adjustable reclining chair in the center takes up most of the space. A smaller, wheeled chair is pushed against the wall beneath shelves of ink containers, tattoo styluses, and what I assume are other tattoo-related supplies.

“So,” Chase says as he closes the door. “Time to get rid of that annoying time travel ability you recently acquired.”

“Yes. I mean, if you’re not busy right now.”

“Not at all. Let me just cancel that appointment with the princess of the Seelie Court, and I’m all yours.”

I roll my eyes. “You expect me to believe you have clients in the royal family?”

“Does Unseelie royalty count?” he asks innocently.

I cross my arms. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? Because it doesn’t. I happen to have met my own share of Unseelie royalty.” And it was intimidating as hell, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Right,” Chase says with a laugh. “Of course you have. Anyway, as it happens, my schedule is clear today.”

“Great. Let’s get going then. Where are we—Wait, what happened to your phoenix?” I ask, suddenly noticing the dark shape on his upper right arm. I’m almost certain I saw a phoenix there the other night, but it looks like the bottom half of a horse now.

“Oh, the phoenix is gone for now,” Chase says, lifting his T-shirt sleeve so I can see the rest of the tattoo. “I drew this pegasus a little while ago, and a friend of mine did it yesterday.”

“But … I thought tattoos were permanent.”

“Not the way humans do them.” He pulls his sleeve down and reaches for a black coat. At my questioning gaze, he adds, “Human tattoos obviously involve no magic. They’re just ink under the skin. For humans, the ink stays there, but for magical beings, the body’s healing magic acts on the ink. The tattoo fades within a few days.”

“So if I wanted a permanent tattoo …”

“Your tattoo artist would use enchanted ink.” He pulls on his coat. “Make sure to check that before you get your giant dragon done.”

I walk over to one of the shelves where a collection of different colored bottles are standing. I lift one. “Is this enchanted ink?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then I’ve checked.”

“Well then,” Chase says as he opens a doorway against a bare space of wall. “I’ll get my friendly assistant to make you an appointment when we get back.”

“Good luck with that.”

I take hold of his outstretched hand and walk into the faerie paths with him. As light forms at the other end, an icy wind blows my hair back. We step out onto frost-covered ground. Shivering, I look around. No trees, no bushes, no signs of life. The clouds are puffs of grey and white above us, and spread out before us is a vast lake, its dark surface marred only by the faintest of ripples. In the distance, beyond the water, the ground rises steeply into a snow-capped mountain.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Far from home.”

“Yeah, I guessed that part. The sudden change in seasons was a bit of a giveaway.” I rub my hands up and down my arms. My thin summer jacket won’t do much for me here.

“You’ll be warm once we get inside.”

“Inside where?”

He points across the lake toward the mountain peak. “There.”

“I see. And you didn’t perhaps want to bring us out of the paths a little bit closer?”

“Not possible. Everything from the lake onwards is protected. We’ll be flying up there.” He brings his fingers to his lips and lets out a piercing whistle.

Seconds tick by, and nothing happens. “Are you sure your whistle worked?” I asked.

“Patience,” Chase says. “He’s coming.”

I follow his gaze and see a grey shape in the air above the lake. It grows larger as it moves toward us. Soon I can make out wings, four limbs, and a tail, but it isn’t until the creature swoops down and lands beside Chase that I realize what it is.

Its head is demon-like, with ridged horns curving backward and fangs protruding from its wide mouth. Its muscular limbs end in large, taloned claws. Wrinkles course across its grey, leathery hide, making it appear almost as if the creature is covered in cracked stone.

“That’s … that’s a gargoyle,” I gasp, stepping hastily backward.

“It is.”

“And you want me to
ride
one? Are you crazy? It’s illegal enough to
have
one, let alone ride it.”

“Mm, illegal? Or just not encouraged?”

“Illegal. Definitely illegal. They’re bound to protect the Unseelie Court. They don’t answer to anyone else.”

“Well, Jarvis answers to me.”

“Jarvis? You
named
it?”

The gargoyle lets out a low growl.

“Him,” Chase says. “Not it. And yes, I named him. It’s a reference to … well, never mind. I doubt you’d get it. Now hurry up and get over here. If we spend any more time in this cold we’ll have to waste magic to heat ourselves up.”

“No.” I take another few steps backward, shaking my head. “No. You know what? This is crazy. This is just … this is too far. I barely know you, I’ve followed you to who knows where, and now you’re trying to get me onto a highly dangerous, illegal creature so you can whisk me off to a distant mountain where I’ll probably never be heard from again.”