“I still haven’t heard a thing about him,” Ryn says. “Not even a whisper. I assumed there must be someone on the Council—the Head Councilor, at the very least—who knew about Draven’s capture, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe Angelica negotiated directly with the Seelie Queen for her freedom.”
“She mentioned the Guild, though.” I continue twisting the telepathy ring, frowning at the desk as I remember that moment beside the Wishbone Rivers when I realized exactly what Angelica had done—traded her own son for her freedom.
“Do you love him?”
My hands freeze and blood rushes to light a fire across my skin. “What?”
“After he was taken,” Ryn says, “you told me you care a great deal about him. I didn’t question it at the time because you were so upset, but … well, you mentioned previously that I had nothing to worry about when it came to your feelings for him, but something’s obviously changed since then.” He leans forward and watches me closely.
“Don’t do that,” I say, pointing at him. “Don’t feel what I’m feeling.”
“Hey.” He holds his hands up. “You know I have no control over that. Besides, the only thing I can feel is your complete mortification. It’s impossible to sense anything beyond that.”
“Good. You can keep feeling mortified then.”
“So … do you really feel that strongly for him?”
I sit back in the chair and cross my arms. “Are you asking because you have a legitimate interest in knowing, or because you’d like to remind me that you think he’s too old for me?”
“Well … he is.”
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling before returning them to my brother. “Would you feel better if he were a hundred-year-old vampire? Because the rest of society seems to be okay with that.”
Ryn cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”
I lift one shoulder. “Haven’t a clue. Chase told me to say that if you brought up the age difference again.”
“Right …”
“Anyway, back to Angelica.”
He sighs. “If you insist.”
“I don’t understand why the Seelie Queen agreed to this bargain in the first place. I can’t see her wanting her traitorous daughter set loose into the world.”
Ryn leans his elbows on the desk. “Presumably she agreed because she sees Draven as a far bigger threat. She must have decided the swap was worth it. I just wish the Council wasn’t keeping us all in the dark about it. It makes me wonder what other secrets they’re hiding.”
I frown. “Such as?
He gives a slight shake of his head. “I’m not sure. I thought I’d discover more after being invited onto the Council, but it seems there are secrets even within the Council. Secrets like Draven, and … whatever’s happening downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” My mind flits over the various levels below ground at the Guild. “The detainment area?”
“No. Some of the laboratories further down. I was following up on an assignment one day—a potion sample that needed to be tested—and I realized I don’t have access to some of the rooms down there. When I questioned it, I was given vague answers that don’t make sense to me. I’ve tried to find out more since then, but I haven’t been able to.”
“So you think they’re hiding something in those labs?”
“It’s possible.” He breathes out a long sigh. “You know, there’s a big part of me that wants to leave the Guild. I mean, they do a lot of good here, but not everything seems to be entirely aboveboard. I don’t know if I want to be part of it.”
His words remind me of Zed’s accusations against the Guild. It’s a noble idea, but there’s so much wrong with the system. He obviously shouldn’t have gone on to plant a deadly dragon disease spell that almost brought the Guild to its knees. And he shouldn’t have tried to kill Ryn and Vi’s baby to punish them for leaving him and dozens of other Gifted fae locked in Prince Marzell’s dungeon years ago. But perhaps he was right about certain things.
“Anyway,” Ryn says, standing and massaging one shoulder with his hand. “It’s late. You should get back to wherever it is you’re staying now. There’s no way you can see your mother tonight—or tomorrow—but you might be able to sneak into Barton Prison once she’s there. If you keep yourself invisible the entire time. Even then, it would be dangerous. Anyone watching surveillance recordings might see you.”
“I’ll take the risk. I can’t go two whole years without seeing her. I haven’t even said goodbye.” Ryn nods, but his reply is lost in a yawn. “You should go home too,” I tell him. “You look terrible.”
He gives me a half-smile. “You don’t look so great yourself.”
I shrug. “I’ve been busy.”
He raises both eyebrows. “I should probably ask what you’re up to these days, but I think it’s better if I don’t know.”
“It’s definitely better if you don’t know.” He walks around the desk and lifts his jacket from the back of the chair Dad was sitting on as I add, “Hey, um, will you let me know if you hear any talk of a dangerous prisoner being held by the Seelie Court?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” I turn to leave, but he catches my shoulder before I open the door.
“Don’t do it,” he says.
“Do what?”
“Whatever you’re planning to do now about your mother. Sneaking downstairs to see her, or trying to get her out. It isn’t worth you getting caught.”
“I’m tired, Ryn. I barely have enough energy left to focus on the invisibility required to get me out of the Guild let alone past all the security between here and Mom’s detainment cell. And I’m not going to try and get her out. If she told Dad she’s ready to face the consequences of her actions, then … I guess I have to respect that.”
Ryn’s eyes narrow. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
I look him straight in the eye and say, “No. I am not going down there tonight.”
CHAPTER
THREE
I wasn’t lying to Ryn. Not really. He told me not to do anything risky last night, and I promised him I wouldn’t. But this morning is entirely different. I wake early, after only a few hours of sleep, and return to the Guild. I need to see Mom before they take her away. I need her to know how sorry I am, because no matter what reasons the Guild might have given everyone, I know the length of her sentence is entirely my fault.
I head straight for the corridor that leads to the detainment area. I stop just outside it and peer in, watching the men guarding the gate halfway along. Invisibility won’t work here, since I have to get through the gate. I need to project an illusion of someone else. Dad would be the best option, since he has the most reason to be here, and if somebody mentions it to him later, he’ll realize what I’ve done and play along. Anyone else—any guardian or councilor—would deny it, and that would raise suspicion, which would lead to people taking a closer look at surveillance recordings.
I imagine myself as Dad and walk confidently along the corridor toward the guards and the gate. One guard looks uncertainly at the other, but before either of them can say anything, I open my mouth—imagining Dad’s voice—and say, “I’m here to see my wife.”
“Of course, Mr. Larkenwood, it’s just that—”
“Linden?”
I manage to keep from flinching as someone behind me calls Dad’s name. I look around and find one of the Guild Council members approaching me with a frown creasing his brow. “You’re a little early, aren’t you? We’re supposed to meet in half an hour.”
Meet in … what? Alarm bells shriek inside my head, but I force myself to remain still instead of pushing past this man and running as fast as I can. Don’t panic. Maintain the illusion. SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT! “Uh, well, can you blame me?”
The councilor gives me an odd look, and I wonder if Dad’s voice sounded as strange to him as it did to me. “I suppose not,” he says eventually. “This whole situation must be very … difficult for you. I feel f
or you, Linden. But rules are rules, so you’ll need to wait up here until we’re ready for the transfer. I’ll send for you then.”
If I really were Dad, I’d probably be furious at the prospect of being sent for like some trainee, but in this moment, I want nothing more than to get out of here in case my father really does show up early. I give the man a brief nod, then turn and stride along the corridor, fighting the urge to run with every step I take. Once in the foyer, I head for the grand stairway and duck behind it before switching back to an invisibility projection. I slump against the wall beside the elevator, keeping my head down and allowing my heart rate to return to normal. I have no hope now of seeing Mom before she’s moved to Barton Prison. I didn’t realize it was happening so early. I should have woken up sooner and—
Miss Goldilocks?
I tense at the unexpected voice in my head. Then I sag against the wall once more as relief floods me with warmth. You’re still there, I say to Chase.
Yeah. Chained inside a dungeon cell, remember? I’m not going anywhere.
You know what I mean. I look past the stairway toward the entrance room on the other side of the foyer. Two guardians walk out, followed seconds later by another one. I decide to stay put for now. With everyone starting to arrive for work, it would be too easy for someone to accidentally walk into me in that small room. I tried to speak to you last night and this morning but you didn’t reply. I got a little worried.
I’m sorry. I think I slept for longer than usual. I must be getting used to these charming surroundings.
Sleep is good. I try not to think of the very non-charming surroundings Chase has told me about. I’m amazed he ever falls asleep at all.
I assume you wanted to talk last night so you could tell me how spectacularly well your first mission went, Chase says as I walk around the stairway to where the steps lead down instead of up.
How do you know it went well? Several trainees walk past the stairway and toward the elevator—toward me. Although I know they can’t see me, it makes me too nervous to stand right next to them as they wait for the elevator. I push away from the wall and stop at the top of the stairs that lead down.
You’re one highly determined individual, Chase says. I can’t imagine you leaving the baron’s house without that invitation.
My hand tightens on the banister as I peer down the stairs. Yes, well, it might have been a successful mission, but in case I was having any doubts about the universe sucking, I was once again proven wrong last night.
What happened? Chase’s question flashes into my head after barely a second’s pause.
You have to survive another nine days until the party, and the Guild is sending my mother to prison for two years.
His thoughts grow silent, but I sense his sinking spirits. Eventually he says, I’m so sorry about your mother.
I’m sorry about you. I breathe out a frustrated puff of air. I can’t keep still, so I begin descending the stairs. Every day that goes by takes us closer to whatever fate the Seelie Queen has planned for you. We have no idea when she’ll act. It could be tonight, it could be tomorrow, it … I stop myself before the claws of despair can get too tight a grip around my heart. I’m sorry. This isn’t helpful. It’s just … nine days seems like an eternity when your life is hanging in the balance.
Everything will be fine, Calla.
Will it? I continue down the stairs, my fingers tracing lightly across the banister’s carved patterns. I haven’t really thought about where I’m going, but Ryn’s suspicions nudge at the back of my mind, stirring up my curiosity about whatever’s going on behind locked doors down here.
Yes. I believe it will. Clearly your optimistic spirit has rubbed off on me.
I want to laugh at that because my optimism seems to have all but vanished these days. And as confident as Chase sounds, I know it’s only a front. I can sense him distancing himself emotionally, trying to keep from communicating what he’s truly feeling. I hesitate on the stairs as the quiet thought enters my mind, as it always does at some point during our mental discussions: What are they doing to you there?
Nothing I can’t handle.
You always say that.
It’s always true.
I shake my head as I continue downward. Will you ever tell me?
Perhaps, but not now. I don’t want to drown in the details of this dark and hopeless hell. I’d rather imagine your surroundings instead. Are you at the mountain?
Uh, no. I pass the level that houses the labs I had potions classes in while I was a trainee and keep going, my boots silent on the emerald green carpet covering the stairs.
You sound guilty, Chase says. What are you doing?
Just … some private investigation. I stop at the next level down and look around.
On what?
I’m not entirely sure, actually. I’m at the Guild. I came early in the hopes of seeing Mom so I could apologize for being the World’s Worst Daughter—
Not true.
—but I didn’t get here in time. And I’m sure there aren’t many daughters in the world who’ve caused their mothers to receive jail time, so I definitely qualify for that label. Anyway, now I’m sneaking around the lower levels of the Guild trying to find out what’s happening behind locked doors.
What locked doors?
I don’t know. I head along the corridor, eyeing the clean, plain doors. So much of the Guild is intricately patterned and lavishly decorated that it’s odd to find a section of it so stark. Some of the doors don’t even have handles. Ryn said he came across rooms he doesn’t have access to, which made him suspicious. Since he’s on the Council, he thought he should know about everything that goes on here, but apparently not.
Be careful, Chase warns. You don’t want to end up trapped somewhere.
I know, I know. I hold my breath as a guardian with a clipboard in her hand and a stylus tucked behind her ear walks out of a room up ahead and comes toward me. As she walks past, I relax—and then her footsteps stop. Terrified I’ll find her staring at me, I slowly look over my shoulder. But she’s facing a door—one of the doors without a handle—and frowning at her clipboard. After nodding to herself several times, she takes her stylus and waves it across the door. With a brief flash of light, the door vanishes. She walks forward. Without stopping to think, I turn and rush through the doorway after her into a room illuminated by dim blue light. I look behind me as a second flash registers at the edge of my vision. The door has reappeared.
What’s happening? Chase asks. No doubt he felt the burst of panic that flooded my chest at the sight of that closed door.
So … I’m inside a room I can’t get out of, I tell him, but it’s fine. I’m not trapped. I’ll just wait here until someone leaves or comes in. Then I take my first proper look around the room—and genuine panic tightens my chest. Four rectangular glass boxes are suspended in the air at eye level, and inside each one is a person. They’re motionless, their eyes closed, and the glass is so close—so close—to their faces, it’s almost touching them. I press my hand against my mouth and shut my eyes and remind myself that I’m not the one inside the box. And I’m not inside a cage. I’m free. It will be easy to walk out of this room.
The lake. Think of the lake. The quiet lapping of water and the warm, gentle breeze and the soft, lush grass between your fingers. The memory of Lumethon’s soothing voice takes my panic down to a manageable level within seconds. I open my eyes to the blue-lit room once more and remember how to breathe.
Calla? Chase calls. Are you okay?
Yes. Sorry. I was just … battling a bad memory. I tiptoe toward the nearest glass box, describing everything I see as I go. The woman inside is a faerie, judging by her two-toned hair. Her marking-free wrists tell me she isn’t a guardian. On the lower edge of the box, a small plaque tells me her name is N. Thornbough.
“Alrighty,” the clipboard lady murmurs to no one in particular. She’s on the other side of the room, standing at a counter that’s bare except
for a tray of small spheres that glow faintly. “Let’s try this again.” She runs a finger down her clipboard, then selects a sphere from the tray. She approaches the other side of N. Thornbough’s box. After waving her hand near the side of the glass, a hole materializes, similar to the way faerie paths doorways melt into existence. She puts the sphere inside the box, where it floats without moving as she seals up the hole. With another wave of her hand, the sphere drops and smashes beside the woman’s arm. Nothing else seems to happen.
The woman sighs and returns to her clipboard. She makes a note before selecting another sphere. As she returns to N. Thornbough’s box, I step quietly around it and read the name on the next box. J. Monkswood. Also not a member of the Guild, and—
I tense at the sound of pounding on the door. “I’m coming in,” a voice shouts. A second later, the door vanishes and Councilor Merrydale rushes into the room, looking around. “Where is she? The hooded figure.”
I freeze beside J. Monkswood’s box as Clipboard Lady closes the second hole she just opened. “What hooded figure?”
“The guards in the surveillance room saw a hooded figure follow you in here just minutes ago. A woman.”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t seen anyone. Are you sure you’ve got the right room?”
“Of course. We both know you’re the only one working on this at the moment, so it had to have been you she followed.”
Crap, crap, crap. I take a careful step around the box as Councilor Merrydale moves further into the room, searching the floor, the walls, the ceiling with his eyes.
What’s wrong? Chase asks. I don’t answer.
“She’s still here,” Councilor Merrydale murmurs. “Only a handful of us have access to this room, so she couldn’t have got out unless you let her out.” He spreads his arms and moves closer, magic zapping at the tips of his fingers as he feels the air. “Close the door,” he says to Clipboard Lady.
CRAP! I skip around him, pressing myself briefly against the counter’s edge—the spheres wobble audibly in their tray—and dart toward the door. As Councilor Merrydale lunges for the counter, and Clipboard Lady dashes to the door, I just, just slip out in time.
A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6) Page 3