Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return (2 page)

Chapter II

Anita stood at the door that led to the garden. She was shaking so much she could hardly keep upright. Her mother’s voice was like white noise in her head.

Saying things that were unbelievable.

“. . . and Oberon took us to the Brown Tower on the downs above the Faerie Palace. You went inside with us and up the stairs. Then you took our hands and stepped through from Faerie with us—and the last thing you said was ‘I’ll be back soon. I’ll see you soon.’ Then you were gone. That’s the last we heard from you till the phone calls.”

Insane! Totally insane!

And yet, what Anita saw in the garden fit with her mother’s impossible fairy tales.

The back fence was broken, the cracked and ruptured wooden panels stacked together by the tree. Deep brown grooves clawed their way over the flower bed and up the lawn. Parallel tire marks. The flagstones of the patio were scratched and cracked. New scratches. New cracks, white edged and sharp. And the garden door was scored with long narrow wounds, pale wood showing through the white paintwork.

The fence had been broken by Queen Titania of Faerie crashing through in her BMW.

Of course it had! How else?

According to her mother, Anita had been in the car with her. Oh, and with some of her Faerie princess sisters, and with Evan—except that Evan wasn’t Evan. He was Edric Chanticleer, a lord of the Faerie court. And she wasn’t Anita. She was Princess Tania Aurealis—half-Faerie, half-human. Able to walk between the worlds.

They had fought the Gray Knights of Lyonesse, with swords and spears. Then they’d gone up to her bedroom and stepped through into the Immortal Realm of Faerie. Yes, of course . . . in some kind of insane nightmare they had!

“What phone calls?” Anita asked, trying to latch on to something real.

“You left two voice mail messages on my mobile,” said her mother. She pressed some buttons on her phone and held it out toward Anita. “I saved them so I could hear your voice whenever I needed to. Listen, Anita. Just listen.”

Anita took the phone from her mother’s hand and pressed it to her ear. She heard her own breathless voice.

Mum, it’s me. I’m just phoning to say I’m okay. I can’t get home right now, but I’m fine. I’ll call again when I have a chance. And . . . and . . . you and Dad had nothing to do with the illness. You know what I’m talking about. It was something else. Not you.
Her voice sped up, becoming even more urgent.
I love you. I hope Dad is okay. Tell him I love him so much. I’ll call again when I can
.

She handed the phone back to her mother. Her head filled with rushing air. Clutching the doorframe, she began to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. The laughter filled her like a tempest.

“Anita!”

She could hardly catch her breath. She was drowning in laughter. Her legs gave under her and she slid down the doorframe, dying of laughter.

She felt hands shaking her.

“Anita!”

A sudden slap snapped her head to one side. Anita gasped, fighting for air, red lights flashing in front of her eyes.

She pushed her mother away and fought to get back on her feet. One thought emerged clearly from the debris of her brain.

Call Evan
. The sound of his voice would anchor her. She needed to hear his voice.

She saw her mother’s face swimming in front of her. She could hear her speaking, but the words boomed and echoed. She stumbled across the kitchen and out to the foot of the stairs, locking her fingers around the banister.

Somehow she arrived at her bedroom door. She slammed the door and, fumbling with clumsy fingers, she turned the key.

Safe now.

She was trembling violently.

Is this what it’s like to be insane?

“Anita? Let me in, please.”

“No.”

“I know how you must be feeling. . . .”

“Do you?”

A pause.

“No. No, I don’t . . . not exactly, but I had to go through the same thing. We both did. Your dad and I. But something must have happened to you in Faerie . . . something to make you lose your memory.”

Shut up about Faerie!

Anita took a breath. “I’m going to call Evan now.”

“He won’t be there, sweetheart.”

“Yes. He.
Will
.” He
had
to be.

She saw that her computer was brand new. How come she hadn’t noticed that before? Her mobile phone was lying by the computer. Plugged in. Recharging. Next to a neat pile of sixteenth birthday cards and some gift vouchers that hadn’t registered with her before. There were other things in her room that she didn’t recognize. A red scarf draped over the chair. A new backpack. A chrome tin with
C
HIK
K
IT
stamped on it. An empty photo frame in Day-Glo colors. Things she had been too out of it to notice before. The spoils of a recent birthday . . .

Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she walked across the room and unplugged the wire connecting her phone to the socket. She pressed the button to switch the phone on. It beeped, showing twenty-five missed calls. Eleven messages. A whole bunch of texts.

The most recent texts were from Connor Estabrook. She’d known Connor all her life. He was the son of family friends, a med student. They met up maybe twice a year these days. He’d sent three texts that morning.

CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

And the next one.
SOMETHING CRAZY IS GOING ON. CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THIS.

And the third.
IT’S YOUR FAULT. YOU DID THIS TO ME. CALL ME. WE HAVE TO MEET UP.

Her hands shaking, she accessed the voice messages. They were mostly from friends asking her how she was enjoying her holiday and when she’d be back. Invitations to parties. Natalie:
We’re going up the Market Sunday. If you’re back by then, meet up in the Stable Block at eleven. t.t.y.l
. Rosa:
OMG! Saw some amazing shoes in Fantasy in the High Street. You’d love ’em.

None of the missed calls were from Evan’s phone. She speed-dialed his number, but the phone diverted her to voice mail.

“Evan?” She sounded terrible! Like she’d been half strangled or something. “Evan? When you get this—the
second
you get this—call me back. It’s really important.” A brief pause. “Get back to me. Please.”

“Anita? Let me in, please.”

She glanced over to the door.

“No. I can’t do that right now.” She couldn’t listen to anything else her mother had to say. She needed a different voice. A different version of what had happened to her. Her mother’s version was no good. It was way, way beyond no good. It was totally unacceptable.

“Please, Anita.”

“Go away, Mum. I need to think.” That wasn’t true. The last thing she wanted to do was
think.
Maybe talking with Evan would make things right?

“Listen, sweetheart.” There was a soothing tone in her mother’s muffled voice. “I know this must be hard for you. . . .”
No, actually it’s really simple. Nothing you’ve told me is true.

But the nine lost weeks?

Evan will know what really happened.

The words of Connor’s last text echoed through her mind.
IT’S YOUR FAULT. YOU DID THIS TO ME. CALL ME. WE HAVE TO MEET UP.

She walked over to the door. “Mum? Have you heard from Connor recently?”

“Yes. Last week. Why?”

“How did he sound to you?”

“The same as usual. Anita? Why is this important?”

“It isn’t. I just wondered.”

“You must have asked for a reason. What do you remember about Connor?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Anita, if you won’t tell me the truth, how am I supposed to help you?”

The melodic bleat of the phone echoed up from the hall. Anita heard her mother give an annoyed snort. There was the patter of feet along the hallway and down the stairs.

Anita rang Evan’s number again. He’d answer this time. For sure.

Straight to voice mail.

“Evan. Call me, please.”

She realized that there were no recent messages or texts from Jade. That wasn’t like her. That girl texted like thirty times a day. Anita scrolled down the screen, looking for something from her best friend.

There it was. Weeks ago.

A single word.
WHATEVER!

It had been sent in response to a text from Anita:
SORRY. I HAD NO CHOICE
.

That was a
weird
message; it had been a reply to Jade texting,
I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!

Anita had no memory of what had provoked that abrupt exchange. What didn’t Jade believe? What was it that Anita had no choice about?

The answers were lost in the white fog of the nine missing weeks.

But at least a quarrel with Jade was
normal
.

She called Evan again.

“Evan. It’s me. Things are . . .” Things were
what
, exactly? “Call the moment you get this.” She gripped the phone till her fingers hurt. “I really have to talk to you. I . . . I
love
you.”

Oh god, I shouldn’t have said that. I sound so needy.

“Anita, honey?”

She leaned into the door. “What?”

“I have your dad on the line. He’d like to talk to you.”

Anita licked her lips. “Will he tell me the same stuff you’ve been telling me?”

A pause. “Just speak to him, sweetheart.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

The last thing she needed was to hear her rational, scientific, logical father telling her that she was a fairy princess. She’d crack up completely if that happened.

She heard her mother move away from the door. There was a brief, one-sided conversation that Anita couldn’t make out, then her mother was back.

“Anita?”

“I’m not going to talk to him.”

“No. Fine. I understand. But I need to go to the hospital. Your dad’s waiting there for me to come get him and bring him home. Why don’t you ride along with me? He’s really looking forward to seeing you. Please open the door.”

“No. You go. Go pick Dad up.” That’s it. Get that voice to go away. Then she could think straight. Then she could work out what was really happening.

“I don’t want to leave you like this. . . .”

Anita took a slow breath. She needed to convince her mother it was all right to leave her on her own, and she had to look her mother in the eyes to do that. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. Her mother was standing there, pale but smiling.

“Come with me to the hospital? Your dad will be so happy to see you.”

“No. You go. I’ll stay here.” A single tear crawled down her cheek. “I’m fine, Mum. I just need some time to adjust.”

Her mother reached out, but Anita drew back and closed the crack of the door to the width of an eye.

“Go get Dad.”

Her mother hesitated. “Okay. But if I go, you have to promise you’ll stay here.”

“I promise.”

“I won’t be long. We’ll be back as quick as we can. Stay here, sweetheart, and don’t worry about anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Still her mother hesitated. “Forty-five minutes there and back, okay?”

Anita nodded and smiled, and finally her mother dragged herself away and pattered down the stairs.

Anita closed the bedroom door and heard the front door bang shut. She felt a rush of relief.

She called Evan but this time she didn’t bother to leave a message.

Why were there no messages or texts from him during the lost weeks? Then a gut-wrenching thought smacked into her brain.

He was dead. Evan was dead. He had died in the accident. Her mother had made up all that crazy stuff about other worlds to cover for the fact that Evan was dead.

“I have to know.” Now that her mother was gone, she could make her escape from this madhouse. She snatched a handful of cash from the emergency fund in her bedside table, then she ran out of her bedroom and stumbled down the stairs.

She had to know whether Evan was alive or dead.

She burst out of the house and went running along the street.

Chapter III

Anita ran all the way to the hostel where Evan lived.

It had seemed odd when Anita first met him that a boy his age should be living in a hostel; but his home was in Wales, hundreds of miles away, and apparently his parents had made some kind of arrangement with the people who ran the hostel so that Evan could take a room there during the school term.

Of course, if her mum was right and Evan was a Faerie lord, then he’d probably fixed the whole thing with magic!

The manager was in her small office, off the main hall. She seemed surprised to see Anita, although she’d been there several times with Evan. Her desk was awash with forms and papers.

“Evan Thomas? No. He’s not been here since the school term ended. We’re full of foreign students doing a summer language course. It’s total mayhem.”

“Do you know about the accident? On the river?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Evan wasn’t killed?”

The woman looked taken aback. “No, he wasn’t killed. What kind of a question is that? You know he wasn’t killed. You were here with him at least twice after you both came out of hospital.”

A flood of relief. But the woman was looking at her suspiciously now.

“Are you okay?”

No, actually I’m a million miles from okay.

“I’m fine. Where did he go?”

“Home, I guess. His folks live in Wales, don’t they?” A raised eyebrow asked the question:
How come you don’t know where he is?
“Have you tried his mobile?”

“Yes. I’ve left messages.”

Understanding filled the young woman’s face. Anita knew what she must be thinking: Anita’s boyfriend had skipped town without telling her, and now he wasn’t taking her messages. Just another ruined teen romance.

“No!” exploded Anita, although the woman hadn’t said a word. “It’s not like that!”

The woman dropped her glance. “Sorry, I can’t help you. I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he gets your messages.”

Anita walked out of the office. She found herself out on the street again, sucking in air, feeling dizzy. She speed-dialed Evan’s number.

This time he would answer. She could hear his voice already.

Hey, sorry—I was in the shower. Yes, a really lo-o-ong shower. I’m fine. . . . Sure we can meet up. Yes, I love you, too.

She was diverted to voice mail.

She wandered the streets with nowhere to go. Home? No! That was an insane place now. Jade’s house? She looked around, orientating herself. Yes, she could go to Jade’s.

Her phone beeped.

A new text from Connor.
I HATE THIS! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME! IF YOU DON’T GET BACK TO ME THIS TIME, I’M GOING TO CALL YOUR FOLKS!

She took a long, slow breath then searched out his number and pressed Call.

Anita sat in the train carriage, watching the houses flit by under a blue sky. Houses full of people living normal lives.

Connor had been wired when she’d called him.
No. I’m not talking to you on the phone. You have to meet me.

He had given her brief instructions about where he would be, then he’d hung up before she’d even agreed to go all the way across London.

Odd thing, one more odd thing in a whole blizzard of odd things: When she got off the train at Denmark Hill station, she had the weirdest feeling she’d been here before although she knew she hadn’t. She was a North London girl, a Camden girl. South of the Thames was just one big sprawling suburban blur to her.

She followed Connor’s instructions and walked into Ruskin Park. What had he said? A bandstand by a pond. She walked the narrow, gray tarmac paths between huge rhododendron bushes filled with deep pink blossom.

The path led to a small oval pond where ducks swam and waddled, swarming noisily when mums with kids threw bread crumbs over the low black iron rail.

The bandstand looked as if it hadn’t been used for a long time. Chain-link barriers blocked the entrances. There were notices.
KEEP AWAY. DANGEROUS BUILDING.

Anita walked twice around the pond before sitting on one of the benches to wait.

A middle-aged man in a suit sat at the other end of the bench, eating sandwiches and reading a magazine.

Where was Connor? He said he’d be here.

Anita had given herself a target. Get to the park without losing it. She’d held on to that. But deep inside her she could feel a big scream brewing—one that would shatter the sky like thin glass and crack the world open.

Where was Connor?

She glanced at the man’s magazine, needing to distract herself.

It was some kind of science mag. He was reading an article with the headline
Longest Solar Eclipse of the Century to Pass over Europe.
There was a photo: a ring of white fire with a black heart.

The opening paragraph of the article had large bold writing that she was able to read.

August 19. The longest solar eclipse of this century, lasting 6 minutes and 45 seconds in some areas, will plunge cities, including London, into darkness as it passes over Europe this Friday.

A shadow crossed the sun and she looked up.

Connor was standing over her.

His hair was wild, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept for a week. There was a look on his face of pure desperation.

What had she done to him to make him look at her like that?

She stood up without speaking. The man with the magazine threw them a quick glance, then went back to his reading. Connor turned and walked away, and Anita walked after him.

They came to the far side of the bandstand. There were no people nearby. There was a wooden fence, then a row of trees that bordered a long sloping field of grass where dogs ran for sticks and families picnicked while rooks strutted and flapped. Connor turned to her. “What did you do to me?”

She swallowed, disturbed by the anger in his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

His voice was shrill, like a valve releasing pent-up steam. “I lost two weeks, Anita. I want to know what happened. I want you to tell me what you and that other girl did to me.”

“You think two weeks is bad?” she said bitterly. “Try two months, Connor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve lost
nine
weeks, Connor. The last thing I remember, it was June tenth. You’ve got seven weeks on me, so how about you tell me what
you
know?”

As she looked steadily into his eyes, his disbelief gave way to a crumbling despair. “Nine weeks?”

“Yes. Why do you think I did something to you?”

“The last thing I remember is meeting you and that dark-haired girl at my flat,” Connor said, spitting words like shards of stone. “After that, nothing. Then waking up this morning in the back garden of the house where I live, wearing the same clothes and with two weeks of my life missing.”

“What dark-haired girl?”

“You said she was a school friend,” he said. “Her name began with R. It was a strange name like Rachel but not. Ruth? No, a longer name than Ruth.”

“I don’t know anyone called Ruth or Rachel. What did she look like?”

“Long black hair. Drop-dead gorgeous. She spoke funny. I can’t remember exactly. Like she was a foreigner.”

Anita shook her head. “I don’t know anyone like that. Why were we there?”

“You said you needed me to help you with medical stuff for a project you were working on over the summer.”

“No, that’s not right.” Then something her mother had told her stabbed into her mind like a poisoned dart. “Was the girl’s name Rathina?”

Connor’s eyes widened. “Yes! That was it.
Rathina.
What is that? Spanish or South American or something?”

“Not according to my mum.”

Princess Rathina Aurealis, the sixth daughter of Oberon and Titania, King and Queen of Faerie.

“Your mother knows her?”

Anita felt the hysteria bubbling to the boil in her head. But this time she was able to keep it under control. “According to Mum, she’s my sister.”

Connor gaped at her. “You have a
sister
? Since when? Was she adopted at birth by another family or what?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She gripped his arm. “What else do you remember from that night when I came to your place with Rathina?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to remember more.”

“No! You’re supposed to be filling in the blanks for me.”

But it wasn’t the empty spaces that drew Anita’s thoughts; it was another aspect of her mother’s lunatic story. Connor was a med student—he knew about illnesses and cures. “Did we say anything about a plague?”

Connor gave a choking gasp. “The plague,” he said breathlessly. “Yes. There was something. . . .” His face screwed tight. “People were ill . . . people who shouldn’t be ill. But no, I don’t remember anything else.”

“Try!”

He glared at her. “You think I’m not trying? You think I don’t want to know what happened to me?”

Be careful what you wish for, Connor—you might not be able to handle the results.
It was clear he wasn’t going to be able to help her. He had seen her during the lost nine weeks—he had seen her with a dark-haired girl from her mother’s fantasy stories. They had spoken to him about the plague, the sickness that had come to the Immortal Realm of Faerie.

He was leading her down that same insane road.

She let go of his arm. “I’m sorry, Connor. I can’t help you. I have to go now.”

“No. Don’t go. You can’t go.” His voice was desperate. “I have to know what happened. What was that stuff about a sister . . . ? What
sister
?”

Anita shook her head, stepping back to put distance between them. “Don’t go there, Connor. You won’t like it. Trust me on this; you’re way better off not being told what I’ve been told.”

“You can’t leave me like this. I won’t let you!” He lunged forward and grabbed at her. “You
stay
here! You
explain
!”

She hardly knew what happened next. Some kind of fighting instinct took over. She twisted in his grip, loosening his fingers, and jerked her elbow into his midriff. He doubled up with a gasp and dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach.

“Oh god! I’m sorry!” Where had that come from? She’d never taken any self-defense courses, but she’d put him down like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She crouched at his side.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Winded is all.” He looked at her. “I have to know what happened to me.”

She helped him to his feet. “So do I.”

His eyes were haunted. “I’m so messed up, Anita! Everything is so messed up!”

“I know.” She looked into his face. “I’m going to find out what happened to us, and when I do—the moment I do—I’ll call you.” She held his gaze. “Trust me, please?”

“Like I have a choice . . .”

“And if you remember anything—
anything
—call me, yes?”

He nodded.

“I’m going now.”

She turned and walked quickly away. Connor called after her. “Anita? Have we both gone crazy?”

She didn’t look around. She didn’t answer. She began to run.

Her brain on fire, she ran wildly across the long sloping green field of Ruskin Park.