Straight afterwards, Azzy tells me to put a sweater on over my T-shirt and meet her outside. “Ready to learn some magic?” she asks when I find her near a statue of a centaur pointing a bow and arrow at the sky.
It’s probably the strangest question I’ve ever been asked. I can still barely believe magic itself exists, let alone that I have the ability to play around with it. I swallow and roll my shoulders in an attempt to relax. “Probably not, but let’s go for it.”
Eight
“So how does this work?” I ask as we stand in the garden some distance away from the other students. “I say some magic words and something happens?”
“Is that what happened the other night when you accidentally used magic?” Azzy asks.
“Um, no, those were just normal words. My friend Val was embarrassed about something she’d said to a guy, and she made a comment about wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole. So I said …” I swallow and wrap a few strands of hair around my forefinger, ashamed of the state I was in that night. “I was kind of out of it, because I’d had a little bit of alcohol, and apparently that isn’t good for faeries, so I … I don’t know, exactly, but I said something like, ‘So what? Then just let the earth swallow you whole.’ And then … it happened.”
“I see.” Azzy nods slowly.
“Was it to do with my thoughts? Was I perhaps picturing it, and my magic appeared at the same time, so that made it actually happen?”
“You know, Em, I’m not sure. Strange things can happen when a person’s magic first reveals itself after being dormant for years. But I’m going to try and find out for you, okay?” She gives me a smile that seems less enthusiastic than previously. “And it’s probably best that you don’t mention exactly what you did to anyone else. Not until I can find out more.”
“Oh. Why—”
“In the meantime,” she says before I can ask my question, “let’s start with the basics. Magic exists around you and inside you. In order to get it to do something, you need to draw it out from within you and either release it in some form, or channel it through a stylus. A lot of our magic works that way, by writing the words to a specific spell onto something, while channeling magic through the stylus.”
Part of my brain is still stuck wondering why I’m supposed to keep what happened the other night a secret, so I take a few moments to process Azzy’s words. “Um, okay, so once I can channel it, can I do anything I want with it?”
“No, we have limitations, of course. Drawing upon that power tires us out, just like exercising would tire you out. If you reach the point where you have almost nothing left, then you need to rest, to regain your magical strength.” She walks slowly back and forth as she speaks, her loose clothing fluttering around her. “And there are limitations to exactly what you can do. You can’t just snap your fingers and have a pile of gold sitting in front of you, or a rainbow arcing across the entire sky.”
“Okay. But superpowered faeries can do things like that?”
“Yes. Griffin Abilities allow people to do magic that no one should be able to do. But we’ll get to the specifics of what’s possible and what isn’t later,” she adds with a wave of her hand. “The first thing I want you to practice is the part where you actually draw upon your own magic. It will initially seem like something you have to focus intently on every time, but it will soon become instinctual. Then you’ll find that you can do it automatically without even thinking about it.”
“Like driving a car?”
“Well, I don’t have any personal experience in that area, but yes, I suppose it’s like driving a car.” She stops pacing and holds her hands out palm-up in front of her. “Once you’ve drawn power out of yourself, if you’re not channeling it through something, you can simply hold it in your hands. It will appear as a sort of glowing, swirling mass that can then be transformed into other things.” As she speaks, a roughly spherical shape of light takes form above her hands, sparking this way and that like energy struggling to break free. “For now,” she says, “I just want you to focus on getting to the point where you’re holding it.”
I swallow, then blink as Azzy’s magic vanishes and she lowers her hands to her sides. “Um, okay. Should I close my eyes?”
“If that will help you focus, then yes.”
My eyelids slide closed, and I concentrate on picturing a deep, hidden place inside me. I have to rid my mind of unhelpful images of intestines and other organs, but eventually I get there.
“Can you feel it yet?” Azzy asks quietly. “Humming, thrumming, vibrating. Find it, and imagine gathering some of it up in your hands and pulling it free.”
I picture myself doing as she says, hoping that in reality it isn’t as slippery and difficult to hold onto as I’m imagining it to be.
“There it is,” she whispers.
I open my eyes, and I’m so startled to see the glowing mass hovering about my hands that I gasp and step backwards, whipping my hands away from the magic. It fizzles into nothing.
Azzy laughs. “Well done, that was good.”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “I actually did it.”
“You did. Now for the next challenge: can you do it again?”
I hold my hands out once more and close my eyes. I expect it to be easier the second time, but when I open my eyes, I find nothing above my palms. So I try again, taking my time, feeling for that faint humming that never used to be part of me. I tug and coax, but once again, I find my hands empty.
“Patience,” Azzy murmurs. “Don’t get frustrated with yourself.”
I repeat the process, but I can’t seem to clear my mind as easily anymore. The cold air distracts me. The chirping of insects fills my ears. I shake my arms out, breathe deeply several times, and try yet again.
Nothing.
“Ugh, this sucks! Why is it so hard?”
Azzy, standing patiently to one side, folds her arms. “Because today is the first time you’ve tried doing it. It will take lots of practice before it becomes easy.”
“But I need to know how to do this now.”
“Em, you need to go easy on yourself,” she says with a laugh. “You have to learn everything a faerie child would spend the whole of junior school learning, and that isn’t going to happen in an afternoon. Even if you’re smart and dedicated, it will still take several months to—”
“Months?” I repeat, icy shock racing through me. “What are you talking about? I can’t be here for months.”
“Why not? Is there something important you need to get back to? I was under the impression the Guild had sorted out your story with your human relatives and friends. No one is expecting you back on that side of the veil any time soon.”
“That doesn’t make a—what about—there’s my mother!” I stammer. “And I have a plan. I need to finish school and move closer to her and get a job that pays better. Then I can actually help her. How am I supposed to finish school if I’m here for months? I’m only supposed to be here for—I don’t know—a week or two.”
“I’m sorry, Em.” Azzy’s brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t know who told you that, but this is definitely going to take longer than a week or two.”
“I … just … I can’t do this.” I back away from her.
“Em, wait—”
“I’m going to my room.”
“Emerson, please be mature about this,” Azzy calls after me. “Let’s just have a chat instead of you rushing off to hide from it all.”
I don’t look back. I run past the statues and into the house—and straight past the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms. I tug the front door open and keep running. Along the path and out the gate. I have no idea where I’m going, of course, but I need to get away from this place. I dart between trees, around bushes, and over rocks. I may not be good at magic, but I’m good at running. So I run and run and run, and eventually I trip over something and slide halfway down a steep part of the forest. I scramble up and brush my scratched and dirty hands a
gainst my jeans, allowing myself to catch my breath.
I’m far from the house now, so I pull Aldo’s stylus free from my jeans. I hold it like a pen and rest my hand against the nearest tree. I’ve seen this spell several times now, so I should be able to remember the words. I try to focus and reach for whatever magic exists inside me while writing out the words I witnessed both Dash and Jewel writing. They spoke some foreign words as well, so I take a stab at repeating what I remember hearing.
It’s hopeless. I’ve either got the writing wrong, or the spoken words wrong, or I’m not channeling enough magic through the stylus. Probably a combination of all three. I spin around and throw the stylus onto the ground. After a moment’s pause, I drop down beside it. I cross my legs and arms and breath out a huff of air. This is so stupid. What am I supposed to do now? Keep walking until I find one of those natural openings between the two worlds? And how would I know it if I saw it? No, that’s a stupid plan. Especially if there aren’t many of those openings. I could be hundreds or even thousands of miles away from one. What I’ll have to do instead is keep walking until I come across a person who can take me to the human world. Chevalier House can’t be too far from civilization, right?
I force myself to keep moving, trying not to think of the fact that I could be completely wrong. As I walk and walk and walk, the light overhead slowly grows dim. By the time night starts to close in and I haven’t yet come across any sign of either a person or civilization, genuine fear gathers at the edge of my mind. I run my hands roughly up and down my arms, trying to keep warm, but it does little good.
Then I hear something. The repetitive rustle of footsteps on leaves. Relief and uncertainty crash into me at the same time, freezing me to the spot for several moments. Then I regain my senses and slip behind the nearest tree, peeking out in the direction of the sound. In this world, it’s definitely safer to check things out before waving hello.
The being that eventually comes into view looks like a man. His face is in shadow, and he wears a long black coat that reaches below his knees. When I see it isn’t some form of monster, I almost step out from behind the tree and call for him. But something holds me back. A shift in the air. A feeling of unease. I notice movement across the forest floor, as if insects and tiny creatures are scuttling away from him. The sense that something here is wrong engulfs me.
I crouch down amongst the tree roots, covering my head with my hands and trying to curl myself into as small a ball as possible. Please, please, please don’t see me, I chant silently. Eventually, his footsteps fade to nothing. I allow myself to breathe out long and slow before standing and peering tentatively around the tree. I take a few steps.
And a dark shape leaps out at me.
Nine
I go down with a scream, the creature on top of me. Leathery wings flap around me, and a snarling mouth snaps at my face. I fight back with fists and elbows and knees. With a great heave, I manage to kick it off me. It leaps again—but something bright and glittering flashes through the darkness. The monster screeches as a golden blade slashes back and forth, forcing it further away from me. It swipes one wing at the man holding the blade, then darts to the side and flaps away.
The man turns around—and I see that it’s Dash.
I scramble up and back away until I feel the rough surface of a tree trunk behind me. I lean against it, not trusting my own legs to keep me upright. Breathless, I ask, “How … how did you find me?”
“Does it matter?” Dash takes a step toward me.
“Yes. Here I am trying to get back to my normal life, and my stalkerish babysitter shows up out of the blue.”
He lets go of his knife, and it simply … disappears. “I think you’re probably supposed to be thanking your stalkerish babysitter right now.”
I push away from the tree and increase the distance between us. “I’m not thanking you for anything. All you want to do is drag me back to that stupid school.”
Instead of reminding me that he’s just saved my life, he says, “Bad first day?”
“Of course it was bad. This place—this world—isn’t for me. I don’t belong here. Why doesn’t anyone understand that?”
“We do understand. That’s what Chevalier House is for.”
“You’re not listening to me. I don’t. Want. To be here. Okay? I don’t want to have weird lessons with strangers, I don’t care about the history of this world, and I don’t want any of this magic. I just want OUT.”
Confusion crosses Dash’s features. “But … isn’t this better than what you had before?”
“No! I don’t want this!” I yell. I begin pacing, flinging my arms wildly about as I go, not caring that random sparks are escaping my fingers and burning the leaves on the ground. “Two days ago, my life was the same old crap it’s always been. Now I’m magical, I’m in a foreign world, my mom isn’t my mom, and basically I don’t have a f—” I cut myself off before finishing. “I don’t have an effing clue who I am or what’s going on. I just want to go back to my plan where I finish school, move far away from Chelsea, and figure out how to get Mom out of that hospital. And yes, I’m well aware that it was a crappy life, but it was my life and I knew what to do with it.”
Dash’s forehead remains creased. “But you can still do all that. I mean, not exactly like that, but once you’ve got the magic side of things under control, you can go back to normal life. In fact, magic will help you with normal life, if you’re discreet about it. So you shouldn’t be trying to turn your back on it.”
I pause, staring into the darkness and seeing nothing as my brain ticks quickly through something I hadn’t considered until now. I turn slowly and face Dash. “Can magic heal my mom?”
He hesitates, his mouth open, then closes it and slowly shakes his head. “She isn’t magical. It would be too risky to use magic on her body, especially on her mind. We don’t know if it would damage her and make things worse.”
I throw my hands up. “Then what the hell is the point in having these stupid powers? How are they supposed to help me?”
“Um, because of everything else you can do with magic?”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Can I walk through the faerie paths straight into her hospital room and take her back through them to somewhere else?”
“Well, no, you can’t take her anywhere through the paths because humans can’t travel that way. But you can go anywhere. You could visit her right now. I mean,” he adds quickly, “if you thought that was a good idea.”
I hesitate. Clearly Dash doesn’t think it’s a good idea to visit her right now, and he’s probably right. I want to, of course. I want nothing more. But I don’t want to go with him. I don’t want him to see my mother in her current state, and I don’t want him to see me and my reaction when I see her like that. I need to learn this faerie paths thing so I can travel there on my own. “Okay, so I can’t rescue her from the hospital that way,” I say. “But I could conceal myself with magic, right? And I could use magic to distract everyone while I get Mom out of the building, and magic could adjust the paperwork so everyone thinks she was properly discharged. And magic could put my name into the school system to say that I graduated, and it could help me get some money to set up a simple life somewhere and keep Mom safe. Right?”
“Yes, exactly. See? Magic is good for something. Although,” he adds with a frown, “I’m not saying I advocate you doing any of those things. We’re not supposed to mess around with human lives and, like, use magic to illegally get hold of money.”
“You’re also not saying that you would stop me.”
“I’m saying …” Dash scratches his head. “I’m saying you should go back to Chevalier House and continue learning how to safely use your magic. We can consider all options after that.”
I nod slowly. “Right.”
He hesitates, watching me with narrowed eyes. “You’re thinking about doing all those illegal things, aren’t you?”
“I’m thinking about going back to Cheval
ier House.” Which is the truth, actually, seeing as magic has suddenly become the best way to dig myself out of my crappy life and give Mom a better future than the one she’s currently facing.
Dash sighs. “Well, your motives may be questionable, but if they’ll get you back into Chevalier House tonight, then I’ve done my job.”
“Great. Well done. Should we get going then?” I turn around, and something that looks like a winged lizard leaps off a branch and flies right at me. “Holy sh—”
“Sherbet,” Dash says, catching the tiny creature. “Holy sherbet. That’s what she was gonna say, little guy. No need to get upset.”
“Holy sherbet,” I snap. “What the hell is that thing?”
Before my eyes, the creature begins to change form. One moment it’s some kind of reptile, and the next it’s a kitten. “Ah, looks like a shapeshifter,” Dash says. “Formattra is the official name, I think. These little guys are quite rare. I wonder how he ended up here.”
“Shapeshifters? Terrific. Are werewolves real too?”
“Well, you do get higher fae who are shapeshifters, but I think they transform into other people, not animals. You know, like another faerie transforming to look like me.”
“Because who wouldn’t want to look like you, right?”
“Exactly.” The creature stretches out and sniffs me. I scuttle backwards out of its reach. “Hey, come on, he likes you,” Dash says. “Don’t you want a pet?”
“No. I don’t like pets.”
Dash laughs. “Impossible. Why don’t you like pets?”
“They die, and it’s sad.” Or they run away and never come back.
“That is definitely not a good enough reason.”
“Fine. I’ll soon be leaving, and who will take care of him then? Is that a good enough reason?”
The creature flickers between several forms so quickly I can’t tell what it is until it becomes a kitten again. “He’s just a baby, Em,” Dash says, scratching the kitten’s head. “He needs someone to take care of him.”
Creepy Hollow 7 Page 7