“I doubt I’ll ever get another chance to mix with the elite fae upper class, so yes. Definitely.”
“Awesome!” Gemma loops her arm through mine as we head for the training center door. “Now what are we going to wear?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Some time after dinner on Monday evening, I walk down the stairs in a long black evening dress, gloves, and high-heeled shoes. My hair is pinned back with a delicate gemstone clip on one side, cascading in curls over my other shoulder. The one thing Mom taught me well—aside from making sleeping potions of apparent illegal strength—was hairstyle spells. She never seems to use any herself, but she must have decided that someone born with gold hair should always keep it looking good. We used to try something different every day when I was in junior school. These days I leave it loose and unstyled most of the time, but I remember the spells Mom taught me.
I find Ryn and Vi in the living room. Ryn is draped across the couch reading some papers and Vi’s sitting on the floor by the coffee table playing a card game with Filigree. He can’t hold the cards in his squirrel paws, so they’re resting behind the lid of a box where Vi can’t see them. Her amber vibrates on the table and she picks it up. “Tilly sent a message,” she says to Ryn. “‘White or ivory? Lace or ribbons? Tables or picnic blankets?’”
Without looking up, Ryn says, “You’re the girl. Aren’t you supposed to decide these things?”
Vi pulls a face while staring at her amber. “I’m not really that kinda girl.”
“Tell her to ask Raven.”
I clear my throat and wait for everyone in the room to look up. The open-mouthed confusion I receive is enough to make me laugh. Even Filigree looks bewildered. When I’ve finished my chuckle, I say, “I decided to just be honest and avoid having to try and sneak out. I’m going to a party tonight.”
Ryn frowns. “On a school night?”
“I see you’re well on your way to becoming parent material,” I tell him, to which he looks rather pleased. “So, do we have to argue about this, or can you just be my cool older brother who doesn’t mind me going out?”
Ryn narrows his eyes. “I feel like you’re trying to flatter me into giving you the answer you want.”
“Where’s the party?” Vi asks. “Not,” she adds hurriedly, “that I’m trying to be all parental and smothering. I’m just interested. You look smarter than I’d expect for the average teen party.”
“It’s at Estellyn Tower. One of my friends at the Guild found an invitation after following a clue, so I’m going with him and another friend.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about those parties,” Ryn says, looking impressed. “A mix of high society and anyone else who manages to find an invitation. Your friend must be quite smart. I’ve heard the clues can be difficult.”
“I assume you haven’t heard anything bad about these parties, or you’d be telling me not to go instead of remarking on how clever my friend is.”
“With the number of important fae attending those parties, I’m sure there’s plenty of security. Do you know if it’s at the very top of Estellyn Tower?”
“Um, I don’t know. Vi, where’s the best place to keep my amber and stylus when dressed like this?”
“Oh, I’ve got a leg strap you can use.” She jumps up, crosses the room, and opens the hallway cupboard.
“I think the penthouse level is owned by that guy who makes those designer styluses,” Ryn says, rolling up his papers and tapping his chin.
“Oh yes,” Vi says as she rummages inside the cupboard. “Lucien de la something-or-other. I think Raven met him once. Whenever I see his name in the news he’s donating obscene amounts of money to another healing institute.”
“Oh, that guy with the wife who has the weird, incurable illness?” I ask.
“That’s the one,” Ryn says. “If the party’s at his place, it will be incredible. He’s got loads of money to throw around.”
“Ah, here it is,” Vi says, producing a black, stretchy strap with various smaller straps attached to it. “Your amber slides in here, and your stylus here. The others are for knives, but you’ve got guardian weapons, so you don’t need anything else.” She hands it to me. “Strap it on anywhere above your knee.”
“Right. That’s not going to look awkward at all if I need to access it in public. Hey, just excuse me while I lift up my skirt.”
Vi laughs. “Yeah, it works better if you’re wearing a dress with a slit, so just don’t attach it too high. It’ll be easy enough to access when you’re sitting down.”
“Or duck into another room,” Ryn says, sounding distracted as he scans through his papers once more.
“Okay.” I finish attaching the strap, then open a doorway to the paths before putting my stylus away. I hold it open with my arm while turning back to ask, “Ryn, you haven’t heard anything from Dad yet, have you?”
“No.” Ryn looks up from the pages. “He won’t tell me what he’s up to, probably so I can’t be implicated if the Guild finds out he’s gone off to do his own private investigation. They don’t exactly approve of ex-guardians doing that.”
I groan. “I hope he doesn’t wind up in trouble because of this.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll probably find nothing and be home in a few days.”
I nod, hoping Ryn is right. “Okay. I’m going now. You guys have fun with your reading and card games. Try not to think about how you’re old and boring now.”
“Playing cards with Filigree is not boring,” Vi says as she returns to her spot on the floor. “Which you obviously know, since you’ve played with him plenty of times yourself.”
“Only when I’m feeling old and boring,” I say with a laugh as I walk into the faerie paths.
“Be back by midnight,” Ryn calls after me. “You’ve got training tomo—” The last of his words are swallowed up as the doorway closes and I’m plunged into darkness.
Estellyn Tower isn’t in Creepy Hollow—“Those rich people don’t want to hang out in an overgrown forest filled with scary creatures,” Perry said earlier—but it isn’t too far away, so I don’t have to concentrate that hard to arrive at the right place. I step out of the darkness and find myself standing on a circular stone-paved driveway surrounded by a neat lawn of dark blue grass that stretches as far as I can see in every direction. In the center of the circle is an elaborate water display complete with sparks of bright magic whizzing around the various spouts of colored water. Turning away from the fountain, I see the palatial Estellyn Tower rising magnificently toward the night sky on the other side of the driveway. The outer wall of the structure is studded with millions of gems, making it sparkle in the light given off by the lamps lining the grand stairway.
I’m about to walk across the driveway toward the stairs when an enormous faerie paths doorway opens above me, and a carriage pulled by two pegasi swoops out and lands on the driveway. After trotting a short distance, the winged horses come to a halt, allowing the occupants of the carriage to climb out. Moments later, the carriage begins moving again. I watch the pegasi as they continue around the circular driveway, running faster and beating the air with their wings until they lift off the ground and disappear into a doorway that must somehow be opened remotely.
“Hey, you almost got run over,” Perry shouts from somewhere behind me. I turn and find him and Gemma walking toward me. Perry laughs and points at me, and Gemma elbows him.
“You have no right to laugh,” she says, “after you almost landed us in the middle of the fountain.”
“That was intentional. I was practicing my stop-yourself-before-you-hit-the-water skills.”
“Whatever. Calla, that dress looks great on you! My sister will be so pleased. She wore it the day she graduated from Hellenway and hasn’t taken it out the cupboard since.”
“Oh, thank you. You look nice too.” Gemma does look lovely in her maroon evening dress and sleek, straight hair. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Perry keeps sneaking
glances at her.
Smiling to myself, I walk across the driveway with the two of them. We join other well-dressed faeries on the stairs, some of whom have also arrived via the faerie paths. At the entrance to the lobby, we’re scanned from head to toe by a security guard before being allowed to enter.
“I read up about this place this afternoon,” Gemma says. “There’s a restaurant on the ground floor which none of us will ever eat at, unless you’ve got a stash of gold hiding under your bed. Then the Estellyn Grand Hotel takes up the first ten floors with rooms that cost more per night than my mom earns in an entire year. And every floor above that is the home of some rich, influential faerie.”
“Man, I’m so glad I saw that clue walking past me last week,” Perry says as we aim for an elevator that looks big enough to hold at least eight of the Guild’s elevators inside it. He pumps his fist in the air and say, “Penthouse party, here we come.”
“Don’t do that!” Gemma grabs his arm and pulls it down, looking scandalized by Perry’s inappropriate behavior. “You’re making us look like such commoners.”
“Who cares?” Perry says, but instead of looking annoyed, he seems pleased—probably because Gemma’s hand is still on his arm.
“So we’re going to the very top of this building?” I ask. “Where that designer Lucien de la Mer lives?”
“The one and only,” Gemma says with a small squeal.
We reach the elevator. After telling the security guard which floor we want to go to, he points us to a smaller elevator past a bronze statue of a sphinx. We’re asked to produce our invitations at the second elevator, and then we’re each scanned again before being allowed to step inside. Five more people arrive and go through the same procedure before the elevator door reappears, sealing us all inside. A man in a blue and gold uniform with the words Estellyn Tower embroidered onto the front pocket directs the elevator to the top floor.
As we move upward, I lean toward Perry and whisper, “If you saw that clue Underground, then there must be quite a few Undergrounders coming tonight.”
“Possibly. The ones who were smart enough to solve the clue and quick enough to get to the tree before all the invitations were gone.”
“Where were you when you saw the clue?”
“That place you were supposed to meet Saskia and Blaze. Club Deviant.”
Apprehension settles in my stomach. The drakoni man wouldn’t want to come to something like this, would he? No, he’s got his own club to run. Besides, I look quite different tonight. He probably wouldn’t remember me.
Gold hair is usually pretty memorable, Calla.
I don’t have time to worry about how memorable I might be, though, because the elevator door melts away and I join the rest of the guests in the home of designer Lucien de la Mer. It’s a feast of sights and sounds and smells. Small glass orbs with tiny lights inside them float near the ceiling, while the polished floor glows faintly beneath our feet. I see winged figures skating in formation across a pond of ice, a band of musicians raised on a stage of smoking coals, faeries dressed in every color imaginable, wigs of clouds and feathers and ribbons, and faces painted with exotic patterns.
“Guys?” I say. “I feel a little underdressed.”
“No,” Perry says. “That is underdressed.” I follow his gaze to a silver-haired girl laughing at something her reptiscillan companion just said. Threads of shimmering spider silk are draped over her body, covering her important bits and pretty much nothing else.
“Oh my,” Gemma says. “That looks … cold.”
I laugh at Gemma’s description before we turn and walk the other way. As we move further into the crowd, we pass floating trays of food and drink: chocolate bonbons of varying shapes, apples carved into miniature versions of Estellyn Tower, tall glasses of glowing blue liquid, and various other tasty treats I’m longing to try.
“Do you think he’s here?” Gemma asks once we’ve all acquired a drink and have positioned ourselves near tall glass windows that cycle through displays of various exotic locations around the world. “Lucien, I mean. Or do you think he’s hiding somewhere in one of his other rooms, relaxing in a bathrobe while all these people party it up at his expense.”
“Well, I have no idea what he looks like,” I say as I raise my glass to my lips. “So I won’t know if I see him.” I take a sip of my layered drink. The colors—pink, purple and orange—mix together the moment I tilt the liquid into my mouth. When I lower the glass, the layers immediately separate. “Mm. Tastes like sunrise,” I say.
“Sunrises don’t have a taste, silly,” Gemma tells me as she eyes the floating jelly spheres in her colorless drink.
“But if they did, they’d taste like this.”
“Mine tastes like medicine,” Perry says. A tray floats past us, and he places his half finished drink on it.
“Perry, you can’t put it back!” Gemma says, sounding as horrified as she did when he fist-pumped the air in front of the whole lobby.
“I just did. Come on, dance with me,” he says to Gemma as the music changes to something with a lively beat.
“Oh. Um … but what about—”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her as she looks hesitantly my way. “You guys dance. I’ll find you just now.” They disappear into the crowd of dancers, Perry doing some kind of wiggle that’s no doubt meant to embarrass Gemma. I think they’d be cute together—except that Gemma has a crush on someone else. I wonder if Perry knows about that.
I walk around the edge of the room, sampling food and looking at the framed designer styluses displayed on the walls. A solid gold one, a diamond-encrusted one, a wooden one with intricate embossed patterns. In a glass display case, I see one with dozens of butterfly wings wrapped around it. I wonder if any of them actually work, or if they’re for display only.
“Hey, pretty lady,” an elf with spiked white hair and various facial piercings says to me. His eyes rake over me before he adds, “Can I get you a drink?”
“Uh, no thanks.” Creepazoid.
After receiving several more offers—not all of them as tame as the first one—I keep moving without meeting anyone’s gaze. I wander around carved pillars and between groups of fae before I find a section of the vast room where the light is dimmer and several spheroid chairs, each open on one side, hang from the ceiling. I settle into one made from woven branches, grateful for the privacy is provides around me. I lean back against the cushion and sway gently in the seat. I wonder if Gemma and Perry are still dancing, or if they’re looking for me. Since these hanging chairs are as private as it gets in this room, I should probably take the opportunity to pull up the bottom of my dress and find my amber. I lean forward.
And that’s when I hear his voice.
Chase.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
I freeze, listening intently, but it’s definitely Chase. His voice has that deep, self-assured tone I’ve quickly become familiar with. A thrill races through me—he’s here!—which I attempt to stamp down immediately. I peer between the woven branches, swinging my seat slowly around until I find him. He’s standing with a woman beside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a clear one that provides an excellent view of stars glittering against a dark sky. He looks delicious in his well-tailored but understated suit—no feathers, sparkles or ribbons for him—and the woman looks equally elegant.
Did you seriously just use the word ‘delicious’?
Shut up.
I push aside my internal argument and notice that the woman is the same one I saw when I traveled back to the scene from Chase’s past. Her hair is shorter now, sleek, dark waves resting on her shoulders, but it’s the same person. Confident posture and alluring smile. She looks fabulous in a form-fitting red dress and black lace gloves that are prettier than mine.
I don’t like her.
“Are you sure he’s coming?” she asks before taking a sip from her drink and surveying the room over the rim of her glass.
“Yes. He
went to great lengths over the past two days to secure himself an invitation.”
“Are you going to tell me how you know this?”
“No.” Chase pushes his hands into his pockets. “You don’t want to be part of my team, so you don’t get to know my sources.”
She pouts. “You know I don’t play well with others.”
“And yet you always agree to help me when I ask.”
She looks away, and I can barely hear her when she says, “You know why.”
You’re eavesdropping, I tell myself. You’re definitely eavesdropping. But I got here first, and it isn’t my fault they’re speaking loudly enough for me to hear. I shouldn’t have to move, should I?
“Do you really think he’ll tell me what he’s after?” the woman asks.
Chase turns and looks out the window. “You’ve convinced many men to tell you many things. I have no doubt you can make him talk.”
A sly half-smile stretches her red lips. “You’re right. I do have an exceptionally high success rate.”
Chase chuckles. “Thank goodness for that. There doesn’t seem to be any other way of finding out what Saber’s after.”
Saber? Oh shoot. I do not want to run into that man again. I might not have his bangle anymore, but he’s probably still furious with anyone involved in stealing and destroying it. I’m sure he’d be happy to take revenge if the opportunity presented itself.
“And if he won’t tell me?” the woman says to Chase. “Then what? Perhaps you should move on to something else. This particular project has consumed far too much of your time.”
“You know who he’s working for,” Chase says, crossing his arms and turning away from the window. He casts a glance across the room. “Undoubtedly the most dangerous man we know. I can’t move on if I know he’s planning something.”
The most dangerous man? My thoughts turn immediately to Draven. He’s definitely the worst threat our world has faced. But he’s gone. I know Olive has her doubts, and there was that enchanted storm everyone was worried about, but Vi and Tilly—the two people who were actually there for the moment all the history books gloss over: the moment Draven was stabbed with a special weapon—seem to think he’s gone. And didn’t someone say the storm was caused by two faeries dueling each other?
A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) Page 21