creepy hollow 05 - a faerie's revenge

by Rachel Morgan

  “You’d better—” A crease forms between her eyebrows as she focuses on something behind me. An annoyed puff of breath escapes her lips. “That time of year again,” she mutters.

  I look over my shoulder and see two first-year trainees practicing their levitating skills on a large sign that reads Liberation Day. The sick feeling I’ve been trying to escape rises up once more. In trying so hard to forget about Chase, it seems I’ve forgotten Liberation Day is coming up this week. Now I won’t be able to forget either of them.

  I turn back to Olive. “Don’t you enjoy celebrating our freedom?” I ask quietly.

  She tosses my tracker band to me. “I celebrate my freedom every day by simply being free. I think it’s entirely unnecessary for the Guild to go to such great expense every year to commemorate the day Draven’s reign ended.”

  I’ve heard about the magnificent balls hosted by the Guilds every year on Liberation Day. I used to dream of attending, but Mom would never have let me, even if I’d been fortunate enough to receive an invitation from a Guild member. This is the first year I’m allowed to attend. This is also the first year I’d rather be anywhere else.

  “Am I dismissed now?” I ask as I secure the leather tracker band around my wrist.

  “Yes. And don’t be late tomorrow night. We’ve scheduled an assignment race for the fifth years. You’ll all begin at the same time and extra points are awarded based on the order in which you complete the assignment and return to the Guild. Now go. You’ve already wasted enough time this afternoon.”

  * * *

  I enjoy the outdoor obstacle course: vines and broken stone walls and stumps of wood placed strategically by mentors over the years. A still pool of water—formed by rain gathering in the crater left behind from the explosion that destroyed the old Guild—marks the end of the course.

  I’ve just swung across the pool for the second time when I hear the sound. I drop onto my feet, release the rope-like vine, and squint into the dim blueish light. It was the snap of a branch, as if someone—or something—was moving through the trees nearby.

  Of course my first thought is of Chase. It always is these days. Is he hiding amongst the trees, watching me? Has he been waiting for me to show up so he can speak to me? After all, he knows I train on the ruins sometimes.

  Then it strikes me, with sickening abruptness, that he was the one who created these ruins. He is the sole reason this Guild no longer exists. I bend over and breathe deeply, willing the nausea away. How is it that I stood beside, that I spoke to and laughed with—that I touched—someone of such evil intent and never realized it? Is he so good at hiding that part of himself?

  I straighten and peer between the trees once more. They sway ever so slightly in the chilly breeze, their tangled branches reaching for one another like spindly-fingered arms. But I see no other movement. Then, with a sudden rush of wings and a squawk, a large bird detaches itself from the dark outline of the trees and swoops overhead. With each flap of its wings, bright spots of luminous color light up its feathers. I breathe out sharply in relief, one hand against my chest as adrenaline subsides and the pulsing light of the bird disappears into the forest on the other side of the clearing.

  When I’ve completed my five perfect rounds on the obstacle course, it’s almost too dark to see clearly. Of course, it’s never completely dark in Creepy Hollow, not with the glow-bugs and various other night creatures that produce some form of illumination. Or the giant mushrooms that soak up the moon’s rays, or the plants that light up if you stand on them. I head back to the Guild, thinking of Zed. We may have exchanged a few heated words lately, but I still care what happens to him. He’s done so much for me over the past few years, and now he’s locked up in a cell. I doubt there’s any way I can help him, but I should still try to find out what’s going on.

  As I cross the Guild foyer, I glance at the corridor he disappeared into earlier. Last week, after returning from an assignment with a pyromaniacal, graffiti-loving elf in tow, I stood uncertainly at the base of the main stairway while Olive pointed to that corridor as if she expected me to know what was down there. “Well?” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

  The guards didn’t stop me when I walked into that corridor. They opened the gate without question. Another guard at the bottom of the elevator shaft took note of my assignment details, then gestured to the gate of solid bars behind him. Not boring vertical bars like those filling Velazar Prison, but bars twisting elegantly into curling spirals, joined by shapes that looked like roses and leaves. As I stared at the closed gate, wondering how I was supposed to get through it, the guard asked, “First time down here?”

  I nodded, then frowned at the elf as he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Amateur.”

  “What year are you in?” the guard asked.

  “Fifth.”

  “Cool. Hold your pendant up to the gate. That’ll open it. All guardians and fifth-year trainees have access down here.”

  So I held my pendant close to the gate, and the metal pieces curled away and disappeared into the walls on either side. It was easy. And four days later, when I went back to deliver the papers detailing the elf’s release and community service requirements, no one questioned my right to be there.

  Will they question me now?

  Without hesitation, I veer toward the corridor as if that’s where I intended to go all along. I doubt anyone’s watching me, but for those who might be, I’d like to appear confident rather than undecided. Casually, I pull my trainee pendant from beneath my T-shirt and leave it resting against my chest where it’s visible. My footsteps sound louder than normal against the marble floor as I leave the expansive foyer behind me and head along the corridor. I tell myself it’s only my imagination. You have every right to be here, remember? “Evening,” I say to the first two guards, stopping in front of them and waiting expectantly.

  They nod and open the gate without a word. I walk through, managing to keep my expression neutral instead of smiling jubilantly. The corridor ends with an elevator of glass. Glass walls, glass ceiling, even a glass floor. The view beyond is enchanted to look like soil, as if the elevator shaft has been dug into the earth. As the glass box drops smoothly down, I see glow-bugs and worms and tiny tunnels with minuscule creatures crawling along them. It’s rather eerie, and I wonder who decided on this particular enchantment.

  At the embellished gate outside the bottom of the elevator, I greet the guard with a smile. “Hey, I’m here to get some extra information from one of my recent assignments.”

  “Sure, can I see your trainee pendant?” he asks. I hold it up. He reads my name off the back, then checks his amber tablet. “I don’t see any—oh, yes. You’ve still got someone in here.” He steps to the side and nods to the gate.

  Trying not to look too relieved, I hold my pendant up a second time and watch the gate uncurl itself and disappear into the wall. I had no idea whether that elf had been processed yet or not. I would have had to act ditzy and apologetic if it turned out he wasn’t here anymore.

  I walk along the main passageway, glancing into every cell I pass to see if Zed is in one of them. It’s a far more pleasant place than Velazar Prison, with cells that are larger and brighter. But then, this isn’t technically a prison. Olive called it a detainment area. Fae are detained in these cells before their hearing takes place.

  A man throws himself at his bars and sticks his arm through, attempting to clutch the sleeve of my jacket as I pass. I shrug away from him and continue quickly. Fortunately no magic can pass beyond these bars.

  I throw a quick look over my shoulder as I approach the first side corridor. The guard isn’t watching me, so I turn into it to have a look. Four cells along on the right, I see a pacing man with turquoise-streaked blond hair. Zed. I hurry toward him and come to a stop outside his bars as he turns.

  “Calla.” His eyes widen in alarm, his gaze darting over my shoulder before returning to rest on me. “What … what are you doing here?”

/>   “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? How did you get yourself caught?”

  “I was …” He crosses the cell and grips the bars, looking past me once more. “Careless. I was careless. Just a stupid mistake. But you …” He frowns and shakes his head slightly. “I forgot you were here. At this Guild.”

  I blink. “You forgot?” Joining a Guild is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and Zed knows that. It seems impossible he could have forgotten.

  “I know, I know, I remember now. It’s just … a lot’s been happening … and you … well, you haven’t exactly been on my mind. I started a new job, and all my focus has been on that. Everything else has faded into the background.”

  There was a time when it would have hurt to hear that I don’t feature in Zed’s thoughts, but I’m long past those days. “What job? What’s going on with you? What stupid mistake caused you to wind up here?”

  “I …” Zed scratches his head, looking rather sheepish. “I was at one of the Underground bars that never closes. I had a bit too much to drink, ended up offending a pair of reptiscillas, and got into a brawl. I was the only one who didn’t get away in time when the guardians showed up.”

  I shake my head, wrapping my hands around the bars as I step closer. “What were you doing in Creepy Hollow? You used to stay far away from any area that has a Guild.”

  “I have some friends here,” he says, looking away. “But it doesn’t matter how I wound up getting caught. The fact is that I’m here and they’ve seen my markings now. They’ll look me up, and they’ll soon find out that I’m supposed to be dead. They might even find out that I’m Griffin Gifted. And you know what else, Cal?” He places his hands around mine. “They’re going to find out about you too. You know that. You won’t be able to hide what you can do forever.”

  A familiar pang clutches my insides as I’m reminded—suddenly, painfully—of the loss of my Griffin Ability. I often reach for it still, automatically, only to find that it’s gone. “They’re not going to find out,” I say quietly.

  “They will,” Zed insists. “Eventually you’ll slip up, and then everyone in the Guild will know you have a Griffin Ability.”

  I shake my head, readying myself to explain to him that that part of me is gone, but the sound of slow footsteps freezes my tongue. I whip my head around, but I don’t see anyone yet.

  Zed’s grip on my hands tightens. “You have to get out of here,” he whispers fiercely.

  “I know. I’m—”

  “No, I mean permanently. Leave the Guild. You don’t want to become like these guardians, arrogant and superior, tangled up in laws and protocols, unable to help those that really need to be helped.”

  The footsteps move closer, and I can’t believe what Zed is asking me. “Zed, this is everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m not giving it up simply because you have a grudge against a Guild Council that doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “It’s not just that Council, it’s every Council. There will always be—”

  “No.” I pull my hands free of his clutch and step back. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, Zed, I will. But I’m not leaving the Guild.” And with that, I walk away. My footsteps carry me to the end of the row of cells and into the main passageway. I nod to the guard as I pass him. He doesn’t stop me.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  My six-year-old self is locked inside a lavishly decorated bedroom with a towering brute of a man, and I’ve just convinced him to stab himself in the thigh. He cries out and staggers a few steps before dropping to the ground, blood beginning to pool around him. My hands shake and tears drench my cheeks and I can’t believe I’ve done something so terrible. But he’s a terrible man, I remind myself, and he was going to hurt me if I didn’t hurt him first.

  Other men run into the room, some rushing to their fallen comrade, while another grabs me around the waist and lifts me over his shoulder. “Get her down to the dungeon!” someone else shouts. “And don’t believe anything she shows you.”

  The dungeon is fear and sweat and mustiness and names, names, names scribbled across a circular wall that spins around and around me. I hear a clang of metal, and then I’m shut in a cage, hanging above black water that ripples unnaturally. The cage is small, so small, and I shrink into the center of it as the bars press closer.

  And all the while at the edge of my vision, in the murky darkness of the dream landscape, someone lingers.

  Chase.

  Draven.

  He hides in the shadows, watching everything, doing nothing. Nothing to save me or anyone else. He hides until the moment he beheads the man we all thought was the real enemy. And then smoke and flame consume the dream world.

  * * *

  I wake with a start, my body tensing for a moment before I remember where I am. Safe. At home. I relax against my pillows, turning my head to the side so I can see the round clock above my desk. Superimposed above the mishmash of painted numbers, glowing gold digits tell me it’s just gone five in the morning. As adrenaline subsides and my heartbeat slowly returns to normal, I try to think of other things. The assignment race tonight; Mom lying in the healing wing at the Guild; my three newest friends who don’t seem to mind the rumors that follow me around; Dad and the bribes he made to keep my Griffin Ability secret; Gaius imprisoned somewhere, forced to take Griffin Abilities from others; Chase, who saved my life and found my mother, even though he’s supposed to be the villain.

  It does no good. It never does any good. I’ve tried to push Chase from my mind, but thoughts of him always sneak back in, like smoke slipping through the tiniest gaps. I may as well stop trying to forget him and start attempting to figure him out instead.

  I roll onto my side and snap my fingers at the lamp beside my bed. Light ignites a moment later. I blink several times, then lean over the side of my bed and reach for the history textbooks I threw under there last week. My hand brushes over a thick spine. I heave the book onto the bed. I sit up, cross my legs, and open the book to a random page. It’s a relatively new textbook, which means it covers everything right up until the present, including, of course, Draven’s reign.

  I check the contents page, then flip through to his chapter. I’ve studied these pages before, of course—several of my Guild entrance exams required knowledge of this section—but it didn’t mean much more to me than words on a page. Facts to be memorized. Names, dates, events, people who no longer exist. But it’s real now. He’s real.

  I start at the beginning, hoping to find something about his childhood, something I must have missed before. But the reason I don’t remember reading that part of Draven’s story is because that part doesn’t exist. Nobody knows anything about his childhood. He first showed up as an apprentice to the Unseelie Prince Zell. He was called Nathaniel then, according to those who were interviewed after Draven’s fall.

  Nathaniel.

  Another name that may or may not belong to him.

  I pull the book closer and run my finger beneath the words as I continue following the story. It seems that Zell’s followers thought Nathaniel was helping him. He did everything Zell told him to, including finding the Griffin discs and the chest that contained all the power the halfling Tharros Mizreth once had. Nobody knew that Nathaniel had his own plans. Nobody expected him to kill Zell, open the chest, and take all that power for himself. But that’s exactly what he did. And it was on that night, the night the Guilds fell, that everyone discovered who Draven really was: A powerful halfling. A Seelie Prince. The son of Princess Angelica, the Seelie Queen’s youngest daughter.

  The book goes on to detail Draven’s mark and the way he brainwashed everyone into following him. It tells of all the areas he conquered and how those who managed to escape him gathered in hiding to form a resistance. The resistance had a weapon, a sword protected for centuries by a group known as the Order of the Guard. It was that sword that finally put an end to Draven and the power he was wielding. The textbook includes the prophecy that was wri
tten onto the sword, but as for who the ‘finder’ and the ‘Star of the high land’ actually were, the author has only this to say:

  When the blinding light and tornado-like winds subsided, Draven, the sword, and the one who delivered the final blow were gone. Witnesses believe that the power released at the moment of Draven’s death consumed all three.

  I’m one of the few who knows the truth, though. I know that Vi was the finder and that Tilly was the one who, along with Vi’s help, delivered that final blow. Together they ended Draven, but they didn’t stick around afterwards to answer questions. Vi had a secret to keep, and Tilly had a normal life to get back to. They left quickly, and Vi’s dad, a spy for the Seelie Queen, stayed behind to tell the tale—minus any names—of what happened at the very end.

  All brainwashed fae were free of Draven’s influence. The winter lifted. The Guilds were rebuilt. Our world put itself back together. The end.

  Except that wasn’t the end. Because he isn’t dead after all. An enchanted necklace saved him, and now I have no idea who he really is.

  * * *

  I don’t stop this time. I don’t tell myself I’m a foolish idiot, and I don’t consider what I’m going to say when I get there. One foot in front of the other along the stone-paved tunnel of Sivvyn Quarter, each step pushing my anger up another notch. I reach the door behind which I thought I had found someone I could trust. Hurt pierces my chest, but I smother it with anger. Then I raise my fist and bang on the door.

  No response.

  I wait several moments before pounding my fist against the door again. Then I bend down and bring one eye to the keyhole, just as I did the first time I stopped outside this door. But instead of seeing an old couch and a striped cushion through the gap, I see nothing but darkness. Standing, I take hold of the handle and push down. The door opens easily, confirming what I knew in my heart all along: he’s gone.