A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4)

by Rachel Morgan

  “Excuse me.” I blink and find one of the healers standing in front of me. She looks over her shoulder and adds, “Mr. Larkenwood?”

  Ryn abandons his argument and hurries to my side. “Yes? What did you find? Will they be okay?”

  “Your father appears to have been stunned. He should be awake and fine within a few hours. Your mother …” The healer turns her gaze to me. “We can’t find anything wrong with her, but we can’t wake her. She needs to be taken to a healing institute so—”

  “There’s a healing wing attached to the Guild in Creepy Hollow,” Ryn says. “Can you take her there?”

  “Certainly.

  “And my father as well, in case he requires further healing when he wakes.”

  The healer woman nods before returning to Mom and Dad.

  “Cal, you can stay with us tonight,” Ryn says.

  I nod numbly. Ryn steps away, but I catch his arm. “What if … what if she doesn’t get better?” Guilt fills me as all the negative words I’ve ever applied to my mother rise to the surface of my mind—crazy, weak, overprotective, silly, narrow-minded. What if I never get to say anything nice to her ever again? What if I can never tell her how much I actually love her?

  Ryn turns back and catches my hand in his. His gaze is determined, unblinking. “She will be.”

  * * *

  I sit on Ryn and Vi’s couch with a blanket over my knees and a sketch pad on my lap. I doodle absently as my mind wanders from random thought to random thought. It was so warm only a few days ago, but now a slight chill in the air attests to autumn’s arrival. Summer doesn’t last forever, I tell myself as my pencil scratches an image of a sun falling from the sky. I wonder if the enchanted storm is over. Everyone at the Guild was so worried about it. Swirling clouds, thrashing rain, a sky painted in shades of anger. Ryn hasn’t said a word about it, so I assume it isn’t a real threat. Black droplets of rain along the edge of my page morph into a vine of thorns. I forgot to ask Chase if that was a permanent tattoo or if it will disappear like the pegasus on his other arm. What is he doing right now? He needn’t have worried about me getting in trouble with my mother. I might never be in trouble with her again—

  Stop. Don’t think like that. She’s going to be—

  Mom.

  Lying on the floor.

  Her chest barely moving.

  I push the sketch pad aside and stand up. The blanket falls to the floor, but I ignore it. I pace the living room, because I can’t think of anything else to do. I’ve tried to distract my mind over and over, and it never lasts for long. Ryn and Vi are in the kitchen, discussing who knows what. They have each other, and I have no one. No friends to call. No one who knows me well enough to care about this. No one I want to sit and talk to.

  Well, except perhaps for—

  A loud knocking interrupts my pacing. Ryn strides into the living room a moment later. He opens a section of the wall, and in walks my father. I run into his arms, and he hugs me tightly. “What happened, Dad?” I ask when I step back. “Was it the same guy as before? Is Mom going to be okay? Do they know what’s wrong with her yet?”

  “It was the same man,” Dad says. He moves further into the room but doesn’t sit down. “I don’t understand how he got in. That home is protected by every defense I could get access to. I fought him off for a while—told Mom to run—but then he stunned me. I wasn’t aware of anything else until the moment I woke up.”

  “And Mom? Do the healers know anything more?”

  Dad crosses his arms. “Those geniuses can tell me only one thing: she’s sleeping.”

  Vi makes a frustrated sound. “That isn’t very helpful.”

  “The bottle,” I say, remembering suddenly. “There was an empty glass bottle on the floor near Mom. A small one, like the ones she puts her sleeping potions in.”

  Furrows form across Dad’s brow. “Why would the man drug her to sleep? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No,” Ryn says. “It would make more sense if she drugged herself.”

  “If she wanted to hide information,” Vi adds.

  “What information could Mom possibly need to hide?” I ask. “She’s a librarian at a healer school. It isn’t exactly a top-secret organization.”

  “I don’t care what the reason is,” Dad says. “I care that someone is threatening my family. I’m going to find this man and make sure he’s locked up where he can’t threaten anyone else ever again.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Cal, you need to stay here for … I don’t know. A little while.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask in disbelief. “You can’t just take off on your own mission. You don’t work for the Guild anymore.”

  “No, but I have a friend who does.”

  “My dad,” Vi says quietly. “So you’re going to finally talk to him, then?”

  “I suppose I’ll have to if I need his help.” Dad was good friends with Vi’s father Kale for many years. After Draven’s reign ended and he discovered that Kale’s death had been an elaborate trick, he was furious. The two of them don’t speak anymore, so Dad must be desperate if he’s willing to ask Kale for help.

  “You are aware that he works at the Seelie Court, aren’t you?” Ryn says. “He won’t know anything about this.”

  “Probably not, but he has more connections than anyone else I know. He’ll be able to point me to someone who can help.”

  “Dad, this isn’t the right way to go about—”

  “I know what I’m doing, Ryn.” Dad hugs me briefly, then turns to leave.

  “Wait.” Ryn’s voice is loud enough to stop Dad in his tracks. I watch my brother as he appears to debate his next words before finally saying, “You need to tell Calla.”

  When no one moves or makes a sound, I say, “Tell me what?” Apprehension stirs up a sick feeling in my stomach. “Dad?”

  Dad’s shoulders stoop slightly. Ryn walks to his side and says, “No one paid much attention to this case when it was just a break-in. I’m the only one who followed up on the info Calla gave us. But now that there’s been an assault and you’ve confirmed it was the same man who broke in before, they’ll look up all records of the name Tamaria. They’ll find what I found, and it won’t be long before Calla knows.”

  “Knows what?” I demand. “Dad? Tell me what Ryn’s talking about.”

  Dad turns slowly and says, “It isn’t my secret to share.”

  “Then who’s secret is it?” When he doesn’t answer, I shift my gaze to Ryn. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  With a final look at Dad, Ryn crosses the room and sits on the edge of an armchair. “After the scarred man broke into your home several weeks ago, I looked up every Tamaria I could find a record of at the Guild. One was a mentor more than a century ago, one was a Fish Bowl setting designer, and one was a Seer. She trained at the Estra Guild a few decades ago. And guess who was in her class.”

  “No way.”

  “Your mother.”

  I shake my head. “That isn’t possible. If my mother were a Seer, I’d know.”

  “Your mother is a Seer, Calla,” Dad says. He leans against the back of the couch. “She was born with the Seeing ability. She’s always hated it. She went to the Guild because that is what good, law-abiding Seers are supposed to do: use their abilities to help the rest of fae kind. She was nearing the end of her first year when she had a … major vision. Something terrible. Something the Guild tried to force her to tell them about. She was traumatized by it and by whatever the Guild did to try and get her to talk. She left and hasn’t set foot inside a Guild since.”

  “Okaaay,” I say, slowly lowering myself onto a seat.

  “She has visions almost every day, while she’s awake and while she’s sleeping. She takes strong sleeping potions every night so she won’t remember the visions when she wakes, and during the day … well, you’ve seen the way she turns. Instead of embracing the visions, letting them pull her in, she’s found that if she physically turns away from t
hem, she can resist them.”

  The crazy circles Mom does sometimes. She’s stopping a vision every time that happens? “I don’t understand,” I say. “Why is this a secret? Why don’t I know this about her?”

  “Because she doesn’t like this side of herself. She’d rather people didn’t know about it.”

  “People? I’m her daughter! This is an integral part of who she is. How could she keep it from me?”

  “Calla, you really don’t need to be this upset,” Dad says in the kind of patronizing tone he used to use when I was little. “It isn’t a big deal that she’s a Seer.”

  “No. It isn’t.” My right hand tightens around the nearest scatter cushion. “It’s a big deal that you’ve both been lying to me: Mom has sleeping problems; Mom only ever went to Hellenway Business School; no one in Mom’s family has ever had anything to do with the Guild. All of that is a lie.”

  “Calla—”

  “How would you feel if you only found out now that I can project illusions into people’s minds? How would you feel knowing that I kept a major part of who I am a secret from you for all these years?”

  Dad pushes away from the couch, shaking his head. “That isn’t the same thing.”

  I stand up, clutching the small cushion tightly to my chest. “Of course it’s the same thing!”

  “I didn’t want you to have to lie about something else!” Dad shouts. “You already have to keep your own ability a secret. Isn’t that enough responsibility?”

  “But … being a Seer isn’t a bad thing. Why would I have to keep it a secret?”

  “Being a Seer isn’t bad. But when a Seer breaks the contract she signed by refusing to reveal a vision that she’s been specifically trained to see and then flees with her family so the Guild can never find her—that is a bad thing.”

  “She … what?” My disbelieving voice is little more than a whisper. “You’re telling me Mom is a Guild fugitive?”

  “Essentially, yes. It’s one of the reasons I left the Guild. It’s the reason she wouldn’t hear of you joining the guardian training program for so long. She doesn’t trust anyone who works there, and she never wants her family to have anything to do with them again. So the fact that she decided you’d be safer there than anywhere else must mean there’s something she’s very afraid of.”

  “She—that’s—I can’t believe you never told me any of this.”

  “We decided you were too young to keep this a secret—”

  “Too young? How long have I kept my Griffin Ability a secret, Dad? My entire life!”

  “—and then we decided there was no point in bringing it up at all. Mom doesn’t like to talk about it, so …”

  “So basically you were never going to tell me. That sounds like a brilliant plan, Dad. What did you think would happen when the Guild finds out?”

  “They were never going to find out—until some lunatic showed up and brought her past to light.”

  Dread coats my veins with ice. I look at Ryn. “Do they know already?”

  “No. Like I said to Dad, the guardians who were assigned this case had far more important things to deal with than following up on a break-in, but now that there’s been an attack and someone is unconscious, the case will be bumped up. They’ll find out who your mother is within a day or two. They’ll certainly know by Monday.”

  “And then what?” I squeeze the cushion tighter as I start to feel sick.

  “Well they can’t do anything as long as your mother’s asleep. I’m not sure what the protocol will be once she wakes up. I’ll need to speak to the Seer representative on the Council.”

  “And me? They won’t believe that I didn’t know about this. They’ll think I kept this from them.”

  “You don’t know what they’ll think,” Dad says.

  “I know they won’t want someone they can’t trust working for them. And my position at the Guild is already precarious with so many people thinking I shouldn’t have been allowed in. They’ll probably …” My voice wobbles as I consider the consequences once the Council finds out who my mother is. “They’ll probably ask me to leave.”

  No, no, please, this is everything I’ve always wanted.

  “Stop being so self-centered, Calla,” Dad snaps. “Your mother is in an enchanted sleep after being attacked, and all you’re thinking of is yourself and your own future?”

  “I’m the one who’s being self-centered? If everything you’ve told me is true, then Mom is the one who’s self-centered. And a coward. Her visions could be used to save thousands of people over the course of her lifetime, and instead she drugs herself so she doesn’t have to see them. And yes, it’s her choice to do that, but don’t tell me it isn’t a selfish one.”

  Dad strides across the room and stops right in front of me. “Don’t you dare speak about your mother that way,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what she’s been through with this supposed gift of hers—”

  “What about what I’ve been through?” I demand, hot tears coalescing along my lower eyelids. “Living for years with a desperate fear of my own magic. My private thoughts splashed across other people’s minds. All the teasing and the meanness and the lies to cover up what I’ve done. I didn’t want any of that either! So don’t tell me I have no idea what Mom’s been through. I UNDERSTAND. I know what it’s like when you just want to be normal, but it’ll never be an option.” Heavy drops spill their way down my cheeks, and I hate that I can’t control the wobble in my voice. “But I’m not the one who’s hiding from what I can do. I’m the one who wants to help people, and if I can use my illusions to do that, then I will.”

  “It was her choice not to tell you, Calla, and she had every right to—”

  “Why?” I wail. “Why did she choose that? Why did she choose to lie when this is the one thing that could have brought us closer together and helped me to understand her—”

  “Stop it,” Ryn says, loud enough to cut me off. “Both of you. This isn’t helping.”

  “It certainly isn’t,” Dad says, looking angrier than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Not when the man who attacked my family is still out there. So thank you, Oryn, for your impeccable timing. Perhaps you’ll think twice next time before deciding when to reveal private information that has nothing to do with you.” Dad scribbles onto the wall and storms out of the resulting doorway. The wall seals up, and I fling my cushion furiously at it. It drops to the floor with a barely audible and highly unsatisfying thump.

  I press my fists against my eyes, as if I could force the tears back. Without looking up, I ask, “How long have you known?”

  Ryn is silent for several moments, which is how I know I’m not going to like his answer. “For about a month.”

  “A month?” I look up, blinking away my tears so I can see him more clearly. “You’ve known about this for a month and you didn’t say anything?”

  Vi steps closer. “Calla, we—”

  “You knew too and you didn’t say a word.”

  “You were doing all that training and studying,” Vi says. “We didn’t want to—”

  “I don’t care!” I shout. “I don’t … I just …”

  I don’t want to be here.

  I don’t want to be mature.

  I don’t want to understand.

  I want to be angry and not have to feel guilty about it. Mom lied. Dad lied. Ryn and Vi found out, and they didn’t say anything until they had to. Don’t I get to be angry about any of that?

  Not after what you’ve done. Hypocrite.

  I beat the insidious voice down where I don’t have to listen to it. “I’m leaving,” I announce. I stride across the room, grab my jacket from a hook on the wall, and push my arms into the sleeves.

  “Calla,” Ryn says. “This isn’t the best time for—”

  “Goodbye.”

  A doorway melts into existence in front of me, and I step through it.

  PART III

  CHAPTER

  TWEN
TY

  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—’”