A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) (24 page)

I walk out of the faerie paths into Chase’s home—and nothing happens. No screeching alarm, no tumbling through the air, no dangling upside down. It’s late, but the tasseled lamp in the corner is on, and I can hear movement coming from his bedroom. I decide immediately that this was a mistake. He won’t want to see me. He’s probably glad he got rid of me after the time traveling mess was over. My stylus is still in my hand, so I look around for the nearest surface on which to write a doorway spell.

“Calla?” I look toward the bedroom. Chase walks out, securing a harness around his torso. Diagonal strips of leather house two knives on each side his chest. A belt of smaller weapons is slung around his waist. “I realized someone was here,” he says, “but I didn’t expect it to be you.”

I take in his appearance. “On your way out?”

“Yes, I have some … business to attend to. But it can wait a little longer.”

“Business? Are you telling me someone is in urgent need of a tattoo? In the middle of the night? And you need to arm yourself with knives and various other bladed weapons in order to take care of it?”

“No.” Chase pulls the final strap tight. “I wasn’t planning to tell you anything. I’d rather not lie.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “Well, that makes one person in my life.”

He crosses the room and stops in front of me. “Bitter cynicism. I thought that was my role.”

I shake my head and stare past him. “I guess Miss Naiveté has left the building.”

“What happened?”

I step backward and lower myself onto the edge of the couch. Chase sits beside me. “I got home earlier and found … I saw …” I stand suddenly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” I back away from the couch. “We barely know each other, and you shouldn’t have to listen to my silly problems. You’ve got things to do, and you’re probably thinking, ‘Why won’t this girl just
leave
—’”

“Calla.” He catches my hand and pulls me back. “You stole from me, you fought me, you rode a gargoyle with me, you traveled into my past, we got lost in a labyrinth, we fell into an abyss, you know I’m not just a tattoo artist, and I know you’re hiding a Griffin Ability from the Guild. I’d say we’ve gone beyond the barely-know-you stage.”

“I … I guess.” I return slowly to the couch. I realize my hand is still in his, so I slide it out and wrap it tightly around my other hand in my lap. Then I tell Chase what I found when I returned home hours ago. I tell him of the secret my brother revealed about my mother. The secret everyone in the Guild will soon know. By the time I’m telling him all the things Dad and I shouted at each other, I’m blinking back tears once more. “I know I’m being selfish. I know I’m being childish. But I just want to be
angry
.”

Chase leans forward on his knees. “Anger isn’t childish. It’s a natural response to discovering information you feel you should have been told sooner. And you can tell yourself you shouldn’t be feeling it, but if that’s what you feel, that’s what you feel.”

I bury my head in my hands. “That isn’t what I feel, though. All I feel is guilt.”

“Why?

“Because,” I whisper, “I have a secret too. Everyone thinks they know me, but they don’t. They don’t know what I’ve done.” Unable to sit any longer, I push myself up. I pace in irregular patterns around and between the furniture. “You know the dark things in the world?” I say, because now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. I have to keep going. I have to
say this out loud
. “The dark things we were talking about earlier? The things we do our best to drown out?” I stop pacing and stare at his feet, not wanting to meet his eyes as I whisper, “I think I’m one of those dark things.”

“What?” Chase lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “That makes no sense at all, Calla. You’re the one who chooses the bright colors in life. There’s nothing about you that’s dark or evil.”

I force myself to sit. “But there is. I … I did something terrible.” I pull my knees up and start rocking back and forth. “Really terrible. This is my secret. My true secret. Worse than being born with a Griffin Ability. Because if the Guild knew about it, they wouldn’t just put me on a list. They’d lock me up for good.”

Chase rests a hand on my shoulder. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as terrible as the things I’ve done.”

I hesitate, knowing I can still turn back. I can leave without saying another word. I can keep my secret until the day I die. But I don’t want to carry it for that long. I don’t want to carry it another minute. “At the chef school I attended briefly,” I say, “there was a boy in the year above me who … who killed himself. No one ever knew that I was there when it happened. No one ever suspected me. No one ever found out that—” I take in the shuddering breath I’ve been waiting years to breathe and finally,
finally
release it “—I was the one who made him do it.” I plunge ahead, my words coming easily now that I’ve confessed the worst part. “He was moody and manipulative. Friendly and flattering one day, then nasty the next, telling me I was only born beautiful so I could lure people close enough to make them go crazy. He always apologized when he was having a good day, but he’d go right back to being vindictive when his mood changed. I stayed away from him whenever possible, and when it wasn’t possible, I ignored him, no matter his mood.

“One day he showed up in Woodsinger Grove, where I used to live. I was out getting some exercise, and I came across him near my home on my way back. He surprised me and pulled me into the faerie paths. We came out on top of the school. It wasn’t a hidden place like the Guilds. It was out in the open, a grand building with many floors. There was a flat section of roof where people—couples—used to go so they could be alone without teachers stumbling upon them.

“I knew what he planned to do with me the moment we got there. After he struck me down and stood on my arm so I couldn’t squirm away, he told me he didn’t believe any of that nonsense about me having powerful dark magic. If I did, I’d easily be able to stop what was about to happen. ‘And you know what’s about to happen, don’t you,’ he said to me as he began unbuttoning his clothes.

“I hated him then. I hated him like I’ve never hated anyone before or since. And in that moment, I remembered a girl warning me to say away from him. With fear, she’d said, ‘You don’t want to be the object of his attention.’ I realized he’d done this before, and he would probably do it again. And that hatred inside me boiled into a deep desire to hurt him. To stop him. For good.

“I imagined a great black serpent slithering past me across the rooftop. It backed the boy into a corner until he had nowhere to go but up onto the wall that enclosed the area. He searched in desperation for an escape, and that’s when I showed him a bridge. A bridge from the wall leading into the nearby treetops. He didn’t question it. He stepped onto it—and he fell.

“He was a faerie, but it was high, and the ground was solid, and his head was injured beyond anything his body could hope to heal, and I looked down and
I didn’t care
. Later I tried to wash the blackness from my soul, the horrifying guilt at having ended a life, but it’s a stain I’ll never be rid of. It’s always there, at the core of my being, along with that dark voice that whispers, ‘He got what he deserved.’” I look at Chase for the first time since beginning my confession. “So I am one of the dark things in the world,” I tell him, “because deep down inside me, there’s something that craves death and darkness. And no matter what my mentor says about all guardians having to kill at some stage,
I won’t do that
. I refuse to give in to that side of me. If I do, I’m afraid it will consume me, and everything I wish so desperately to be—a strong protector, a good person—will be gone.”

“Calla,” Chase says, covering both my hands with his. “I wish I could explain to you how wrong you are. Trust me on this: I have seen the dark things of the world, and you are not one of them. The very fact that you long to protect and save others—even your enemies—shows that you aren’t evil.”

“But I
killed
that boy! And it wasn’t just self-defense. I could have projected something different. I could have got away without killing him. But I
wanted
him to die. That says there’s something evil inside me.”

“And later you were overcome by immense guilt. That says you have a
conscience
.”

“But … that doesn’t change the fact that I killed him.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He shifts closer to me, peering more intently into my eyes. “Calla, this is part of life. Sometimes people do terrible things that, later on, they wish they had never done. But no amount of remorse can change the past. Believe me, I am horribly aware of that fact. The only thing you have control over now is your future. If you want to protect people, then do that. If you want to saves lives without ever killing an enemy, then do that too. I know from experience that it’s a whole lot more challenging to go about it that way, but I can also tell you it’s possible.”

I blink through my tears at him, realizing this is the closest he’s come to telling me what he really does during his non-tattoo hours. I look down at our joined hands and bite my lip. I’m partly horrified that I just shared my greatest secret with someone, but mainly I’m immensely relieved. I thought Chase would be shocked to hear what I’ve done, but it seems he understands better than I expected. “If I asked,” I say carefully, “would you tell me what it is you’re so remorseful about?”

I look up and find him giving me a wry smile. “You wouldn’t like me nearly as much if you knew.”

Mustering my own smile, I say, “What makes you think I like you now?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? I imagine you’d have gone somewhere else if you didn’t like me.”

I nod slowly, then keep my eyes on his as I ask, “Is it … something to do with what you said earlier? About there being too much darkness to drown it all out?”

Chase’s smile fades, but his eyes never leave mine as he says, “Yes. It is.” He looks away then and lifts his hands off mine. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for saying nothing more than that. The past is … well, it’s the past.”

“That’s fine,” I say, rubbing my hands along the tops of my legs. “Rather say nothing than lie, right?”

“Right.” He raises his hand toward his coat hanging over the back of the desk chair and curls his fingers in a come-here motion. His amber slides out of an inside pocket and flies through the air. He reads a message quickly, then stands. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay any longer. I need to be somewhere.”

“Oh, that’s completely understandable. It’s not as though I—”

“You can stay, though,” he adds hurriedly as I stand. “I mean, if you don’t want to go home. Nothing improper, just … you hanging out here if you don’t have anywhere else to go right now.” He frowns. “That sounded a lot less awkward inside my head.”

I laugh and wipe away the last of the moisture beneath my eyes. “Thank you. I think I will. Just for a bit.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, your horrible alarm didn’t go off when I arrived. Did you deactivate it?”

“I was playing around with some modifications.” Chase slides his coat on, concealing the weapons secured to his body. “I’ll cast the charm again when I’m outside. You won’t need to worry about any surprise visitors showing up.”

“Is that something that happens often?”

“No, actually, you were the first.” He regards me with a thoughtful expression. “And you were of the pleasant variety rather than the kill-him-now variety.”

“I see.” My skin warms at the thought that he considers my abrupt arrival in his life ‘pleasant,’ but I doubt he means anything by it. “Acquired a few enemies over the years, have you?”

“A few.” He pockets his amber and stylus and heads for the door. “Which you can probably figure out means ‘a lot.’”

He heads out with a final goodbye, and I return my backside to the couch. After staring sleepily at the paintings for a while—I can’t decide if the leaves in the forest scene are actually moving, or if it’s my imagination—I look at my amber and find a message from a few minutes ago.

I know you’re Underground. Don’t worry, I’m not coming to get you. I know you’re angry. I understand why. Just tell me you’re okay (otherwise I will have to come and find you). V

Darn my family and their annoying Griffin Abilities. I can’t hide anywhere without Violet finding me. Puffing out a frustrated breath, I write two words:
I’m fine.

After a jaw-achingly wide yawn, I get up and search the room for a blanket. I find one in the wardrobe beside the door and wrap it around myself before returning to the couch. I’m exhausted from the labyrinth ordeal, anxiety over the attack on Mom and Dad, and the emotional upheaval since then. I’ll just rest here for a bit before returning to Ryn’s house.

I snuggle against the cushions, letting my mind wander back over my confrontation with Dad. With my mind relaxed, flashes of the scene play out against the backdrop of Chase’s living room. Dad getting in my face, Ryn trying to stop the two of us fighting, me throwing a cushion at the wall.

A Seer. Mom is a
Seer
. The sleeping potions and the weird turning in circles and the dazed looks and her paranoia about the Guild. Everything makes sense now, but my brain still has trouble reconciling this new information with the picture I already have of my mother. The woman I’ve always thought of as delicate and, well, weak actually has magic powerful enough to show her the future.

And she planned on never telling me.

Why?
And why did she run from the Guild? Why couldn’t she just tell them what she saw, go through the process of officially ending her training, and live a free life?

I wonder what she saw that traumatized her so much.

Of course!
My sleepy eyelids pop open as I realize something. This must be the information the scarred man is after. He wants to know what Mom saw in her vision all those years ago. But how would he know about it in the first place? Tamaria. He must have heard it from her. She was in Mom’s class, so she must know something about what Mom Saw. But not enough, obviously, or the scarred man wouldn’t have come after Mom.