Creepy Hollow 7

by Rachel Morgan

  Her eyes narrow. “You’ve been in this world for all of five minutes, and you’ve already decided you know more than I do?”

  “I just—”

  “No, they don’t have anything to do with broomsticks. I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Oh. You’ve never been in my world?”

  “The non-magic realm? No, never. Why would they have taken me there? I’ve spent most of my life locked up in their home. The only things I know are the things I’ve heard them talk about, and the things I’ve read in their books. I don’t know how I ended up living in a house with witches, because they never bothered to tell me. They … they treated me like their servant.” She pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them. “They never taught me how to use my magic, because that would have made me stronger. I could have used it against them. They caught me reading about Chevalier House once, when I was trying to figure out an escape plan and where I would go if I ever got away. They laughed and said that even if I managed to run away from them, Chevalier House wouldn’t do me any good. Fae disappear from here all the time.”

  “If that were true, surely the Guild would know about it. They would have shut down the program by now.” It can’t be true. I need it to not be true. I need Azzy to teach me everything about magic so I can get back to my own world and help Mom.

  “Unless the Guild’s in on it too,” Aurora says in conspiratorial tones.

  “So if Chevalier House is dangerous, why did you come here?”

  “I didn’t choose to come here.” She returns her feet to the floor and leans closer to me. “I finally managed to get away from the witches after months of careful planning. I was all on my own until a guardian caught me stealing food. That’s how I ended up at the Guild, and they’re the ones who sent me here.”

  I sigh. “You know this all sounds ridiculous, right? And the only thing you’ve got to go on is what a bunch of witches have told you. Obviously they’d want you to believe that Chevalier House can’t help you. They didn’t want you running away.”

  “Okay, so maybe they were lying. But are you willing to take that risk? Do you even want to be here?”

  “Actually, yes. I do. I realized today that magic can help me far more than anything I’ve ever learned in my own world, and I need to know how to use it before returning home.”

  “If they ever allow you to return home,” Aurora points out.

  “Fine. What exactly are you suggesting then? That we run away together?”

  “Yes. Everything’s locked up now—I already checked downstairs—but we can wait for a chance tomorrow and run together. Then we can figure out what to do once we’re free.”

  “No,” I say flatly. “I’m sorry, but no. I tried that today and it didn’t work. I have a different plan now, and it doesn’t include running away with someone I just met.”

  “You’re being so naive,” she whispers with a fearful shake of her head.

  “Am I? I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust them, so who am I going to go with? Obviously the side that’s most likely to help me. And right now, that looks like Chevalier House. If something weird’s going on, I’ll figure it out soon enough and then I’ll run. But for now, I’m staying put.” I shove aside the tiny voice that says Aurora might be right. That the strange conversation I overheard is evidence enough. Because I need this program to work. Now that I’ve realized how much magic can do for me in my own world, I’m clinging to it as if it’s my only hope for a better life.

  Aurora swallows, then breathes out slowly. She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, leaning away from me. “Okay. I’m—I’m sorry I bothered you with this.” She slides off my bed and stands. “I’ll … um … I guess you’re right. We should each be looking out for ourselves.”

  I nod, since I’m not sure what else to do or say.

  “Okay, well … good night.” She turns and hurries out of my room.

  “So weird,” I murmur as I tap the lamp, plunging the room into darkness once more. I keep telling myself I’ve made the right decision, but I can’t help turning her words over and over in my mind, and it’s a long time before I fall asleep.

  Eleven

  “It’s lovely that the two of you arrived at the same time and can learn together,” Azzy says to Aurora and me as the two of us sit side by side at a library table the following morning. “It doesn’t often happen that way.”

  Aurora says nothing, so I decide to say nothing too. I doubt either of us thinks there’s anything ‘lovely’ about this situation. In fact, I’m surprised she’s still here. She seemed so desperate last night; I thought she’d have found a way to escape the house while the rest of us were sleeping. But she was sitting at the dining room table when I got there this morning, frowning at her plate. She didn’t look up once during breakfast.

  “Right, then,” Azzy says. “I’m going to explain glamours this morning, and after that we’ll move outside to try some basic magic before lunch. No need to run away this time, Em,” she adds with a chuckle. I sense Aurora’s eyes on me, and I make a determined effort not to meet her gaze. “Then perhaps later, Em,” Azzy says, “you can give me any information you think might be helpful in finding your real family. And you too, Aurora.”

  Icy apprehension shoots through my veins. I’ve been trying to ignore the idea that I have another family out there somewhere. It makes me sick every time I remember Mom isn’t actually my mother. “Um …”

  “Unless you don’t want to, of course,” Azzy adds quickly.

  “I’m interested,” Aurora says, which is surprising enough to make me look her way. I wonder what game she’s playing, or if she might possibly be serious. Perhaps she hopes to discover something useful about her family before fleeing Chevalier House.

  “Azzy?” I look around as Paul walks into the library. “I’ve just received the guardians’ report.” He waves a rolled-up piece of paper. “They didn’t find anything suspicious.”

  “Suspicious about what?” Aldo asks. He’s reading alone at another table in the library while George works on some practical skills outside. “Did something happen?”

  “The security enchantments picked up something outside our gate in the early evening yesterday,” Paul explains. “The Guild was alerted, and a couple of guardians came to check things out. They told us they didn’t find anything, but they left someone stationed out there for the night anyway.”

  “Do you think … maybe … it was the Griffin rebels?” Aldo says. “They hate the Guild, so they would hate us too, right?”

  “I’m sure it was nothing,” Azzy says with a smile. “And Paul,” she adds in a low voice, though we can all still hear her, “I don’t think it’s necessary to scare the students.”

  “But we have a right to know what’s going on, don’t we?” Aldo protests. “If there’s a threat, we should know about it.”

  “Nothing is going on,” Azzy assures him. “The Griffin rebels have absolutely no reason to attack us. We have nothing to do with them.”

  I look over at Aurora. Her violet eyes meet mine, and her eyebrows rise the tiniest bit, as if to say, See? I told you something’s going on here.

  “Enough about that,” Azzy says, clapping her hands together. “Aurora, do you know what a glamour is?”

  Startled, Aurora swings back to face Azzy. “Not really. The witches didn’t tell me anything about them.”

  The next hour passes with Azzy explaining glamours of all types, from the simple kind I’m supposed to be able to cast over myself without even thinking about it, to the immensely complex kind that conceal buildings inside trees so they’re hidden from view. I realize that this is probably what Dash was referring to when he spoke about tree houses, and it’s impossible to wrap my mind around the concept. A whole house full of space hidden inside one tree trunk? How the freaking heck?

  “Magic makes the impossible possible,” Azzy says, which doesn’t seem like much of an explanation to me.

  Something ti
ckles my ankle. I look down, twitching involuntarily when I see a grasshopper clinging to the bottom of my jeans. I’m about to swat it away when it flickers, drops to the floor, seems to kind of bulge out, and becomes a frog. “Seriously?” I whisper. “Leave me alone.”

  “Em?” Azzy asks, pausing in the middle of a description of exactly what happened to one of the Guilds years ago when its glamour magic was destroyed. “Everything okay?”

  “Uh, yes. Just a frog.”

  “Oh, it must have hopped in from outside. I’m sure it’ll find its way back out. Now, shall we try some magic?”

  Excitement pulses through me as we follow Azzy into the garden. Be patient, I instruct myself. Don’t get frustrated. You can do this. We stop near a three-tiered fountain. I rub my hands up and down my arms. “It’s a little cold to practice outside, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Aurora murmurs. No doubt she’s feeling it worse than I am. I’ve at least got jeans on; she’s wearing a long skirt and open sandals.

  “Nonsense.” Azzy turns to face us. “As long as the fountain hasn’t iced over, it isn’t too cold. Besides, the low temperature will help motivate you to learn how to keep yourself warm with magic.”

  “If we don’t freeze to death first,” I mutter.

  “Young people,” Azzy mutters as she flicks her hand toward a bench on the other side of the fountain. “Always so dramatic.” A retort rises to my tongue, but it freezes there as I watch the bench slide around the fountain and come to a halt behind Azzy. She sits, folds her hands together on her knees, and looks at us. “I’d like you to start by drawing magic from your core. Aurora, you said you’re already familiar with how to do this?”

  “Um, yes. I practiced on my own whenever I wasn’t being watched.”

  “Wonderful. Em, you’ve got some catching up to do.”

  “Yay,” I mutter. “I always love it when teachers pit students against each other to try get them to perform better.”

  Azzy sits a little straighter and brushes something non-existent off her sleeve. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Can we just get on with this?” Aurora asks quietly. I look over and see that she’s already holding a glowing sphere of magic above her palms.

  Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and repeat Azzy’s instructions from yesterday. I have to stop and refocus three times before I produce a visible mass of magic, but after I’ve done it once, I can repeat it several times without a problem. “Okay,” I say, almost giddy with elation as I hold my own power in my hands. “What’s next?”

  “Fire,” Azzy says with a gleam in her eyes. She pulls a scrap of paper from the folds of her loose clothing and draws something on it with her stylus, using the bench to press against. Almost immediately, three long, slender candles push their way up out of the paper.

  “How did you—”

  “That’s a lesson for another day.” She stands. “Here’s a candle for each of you. Now that you can call on your magic at will, I want you to shape it into a flame.” She holds the third candle up in front of her face. “Some spells require written words, and some require spoken words. Some require both, or a specific movement of the hands. What we’re going to do now requires a spoken word only—and of course, the subconscious nudging of your magic toward the candle.”

  She makes it sound easy, this ‘subconscious nudging,’ but I’m guessing it’s one of those things that takes loads of practice and effort before it becomes instinctive.

  “Repeat after me,” Azzy says. She utters a strange word I’ve never heard before, then blows gently at the candle. A flame flickers to life.

  Aurora starts practicing, and of course she gets it right on her third try. I, however, blow again and again and nothing happens. I try different ways of speaking the magical word, changing the emphasis from the first syllable to the last, but it makes no difference.

  “Stop,” Azzy says eventually. “I don’t think you’re sending any magic toward the candle at all. Don’t forget that part. Pull on your magic, speak the word, and then imagine blowing that power out of your mouth and straight at the candle.

  I do as she says. And nothing happens.

  My patience snaps. I throw the candle onto the grass. “I don’t understand. I managed to rip the ground apart without even trying, and now I can’t even light a candle.”

  “That was different—”

  “I know it was different. It was easy and it was English. This is … just … stupid words that don’t make sense.”

  “Em,” Azzy says, and her voice carries a warning tone.

  “No, seriously. The other night I just said something and it happened.”

  “Emerson.”

  “Why can’t I just keep doing that?” I bend and scoop the candle up. Holding it high, I say, “Candle, start burning.” Nothing happens. “Start burning!” I shout. Still nothing. I swing around and point at the tree. “Fall over!” Nothing. I face the fountain. “Break into a hundred pieces and put yourself back together!” A shiver ripples up my spine, and I realize those last words sounded oddly distant and yet weirdly resonant at the same time.

  The fountain vibrates. Cracks form across the tiers and splinter rapidly outwards.

  A pause.

  Silence.

  Then the entire fountain explodes.

  Aurora screams as water and pieces of stone fly outward. Suddenly, we’re both flat on the ground. I force my head up to see what’s happening. The stone pieces freeze, reverse, and fly straight back to their starting point, all joining together perfectly. I suck in a breath as the last crack vanishes, returning the fountain to its exact original form.

  More silence.

  Then Aurora scoots backward across the ground. “That’s not normal,” she gasps. “That is so not normal.”

  “I did it,” I murmur. “I used magic.”

  “That wasn’t magic,” Azzy whispers.

  I twist around to look at her. “What do you mean?”

  Slowly she shakes her head. “Not normal magic. Not the kind of magic the rest of us have.”

  I look past her and find Paul and the remainder of the students standing a few feet away, their expressions all frozen in shock. “I’ll get hold of the Guild,” Paul says quietly.

  “Why?” I push myself onto my feet. “What did I do? What’s wrong?”

  Aurora stands, and Azzy looks between the two of us. “You’re lucky I got you both onto the ground so quickly. You might have been badly hurt otherwise.”

  “Answer me,” I say to her, and again, that strange ripple rushes up my spine.

  Azzy jolts. Abruptly, and almost robotically, she says, “I’ve never seen magic like that before. No faerie should be able to do what you just did. I suspect you have a Griffin Ability. Paul’s contacting the Guild now, and they’ll probably send someone here immediately to test you. What happens next is up to them.” Her voice cuts off abruptly, and she slaps a hand over her mouth as if to stop anymore words tumbling out. Then she breathes out slowly and lowers her hand. “Don’t do that again. Don’t speak again.”

  “But I—”

  “Emerson,” she interrupts. “Your voice is dangerous. Please don’t speak again until a Guild member is here.”

  A chill races across my skin, followed by a flush of heat. Anxiety tightens my stomach. This is all going wrong. I’m supposed to learn magic and then go home. I’m not supposed to be in trouble with the Guild. I’m not supposed to be one of those dangerous superpowered faeries everyone seems to hate.

  “Come, let’s go inside.” Azzy takes my arm and leads me toward the house. I think about fighting her, about pushing her away and running, but I’m overcome by exhaustion all of a sudden. My arms hang weakly at my sides, and a wave of dizziness passes through me. It’s gone by the time we reach the entrance hall, but I still feel too drained to think about running anywhere.

  Azzy ushers everyone out of the room, then hurries off to another part of the house, leaving me alon
e in the entrance hall with Paul. He stands with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, not once removing his eyes from me. Azzy reappears a minute or two later with a mug in her hand. “You’re tired, I know,” she says quietly. “This will help you regain your strength.” Paul frowns, but he doesn’t stop Azzy from handing the mug to me.

  I take a hesitant sip, then keep drinking until the thick, chocolatey liquid is finished. It’s sweet and warm and comforting, and I begin feeling stronger almost immediately. I place the mug on the table and look at Azzy. “There must be a mistake, right? I can’t possibly have one of those Griffin Ability things. What happened out there … that was just uncontrolled magic or something. Right?”

  “You shouldn’t be speaking,” Paul says.

  “Because I have a dangerous voice? That’s absurd. I’m sure there’s another explanation for—”

  “Em, stop,” Azzy says. “Please. I think it’s safer if you say nothing.”

  At that moment, the front door of Chevalier House swings open and two figures stride in. A woman I don’t recognize, and—

  “Dash,” I say the moment I see him. It’s weird, but I’m actually relieved he’s here.

  “Emerson,” the woman says, staring me down with eyes that appear to be almost bronze in color. She’s dressed in a well-tailored pants suit, and her hair is pulled back tightly in a bun. I can’t figure out her expression. It definitely isn’t a smile, but it isn’t fear or wariness or anger. “I’m Head Councilor Ashlow. Why didn’t you tell us you could perform unnatural magic?”

  I throw my hands up, because this is becoming too much now. “You’re kidding, right? All magic is unnatural to me! I only just discovered it exists! How was I supposed to know that saying something and then having it happen is considered unusual in this world?”

  “Not just unusual. Impossible.”

  “Well … exactly. How was I supposed to know that?”

  She breathes out sharply and extends her closed hand toward me. Her fingers uncurl to reveal a bright green pill sitting on her palm. “Councilor Waterfield should have tested you the first day you arrived in this world. She shouldn’t have let you—” she pins her gaze on Dash for a moment “—talk her out of it.”