A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6)

by Rachel Morgan

  “Wonderful. If you—” At that point, a guard hurries up to her. The first guard I’ve seen since last night, other than the guards still frozen in the ballroom. Any hope I might have had of this guard running toward Angelica to attack her, to take back the crown she stole, dies when I see him bow his head.

  “You asked me to keep you updated, Your Majesty. Several guards have confirmed that your brother and nephew and the rest of the royal family got away in one of the carriages last night as the guests were fleeing.”

  Angelica clenches her fist and punches the air as she lets out an angry shout. One of the topiaries catches fire. “I should have slain them before they ran off the dais,” she grumbles. “And you should have worked faster in getting the shield up.” She directs her fury at the witches for a moment. After taking a breath, she turns back to the guard. “Well, there’s no point in guarding the tunnel anymore.” She crosses her arms. “Where is everyone else hiding?”

  “The palace staff are in their quarters, Your Majesty.”

  “And the guards not loyal to me are still under control?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Down in the kitchen. Once we’ve stunned them all, they’ll be moved to the dungeon.”

  “Good.” She breathes out a long sigh. “Now I suppose I’m going to have to hunt down the rest of my family.”

  “Leave it until after the full moon,” a witch suggests.

  “Yes, it can wait until then.” Angelica dismisses the guard. To the witches, she says, “Do whatever you want around here to pass the time. I’ll be busy for the next few hours.”

  I perk up at her words. If only the two witches are left out here, I can risk taking them on. Stun the one, and immobilize the other with illusions, magic and knives. If I have enough strength left, I can even get them into a dungeon cell. They can wait there for the Guild—which I assume is sending guardians back here as soon as possible—to find them.

  As Angelica turns to walk away, I begin gathering magic above my palm. “Where will you be if we need you?” asks the older witch.

  Not bothering to look back, Angelica says, “With my son.”

  Three simple words, and my plan evaporates.

  Chase. He’s alive and she’s going to him now. I have to follow her. But … my eyes dart back to the witches, to the swirling magic forming above my palm, and then to Angelica once again, disappearing around a corner now.

  Dammit!

  I wrap myself in invisibility and leap over the balcony, landing as lightly and silently as a cat with the assistance of the magic I just gathered. I follow Angelica from a safe distance, treading lightly and remaining invisible in case another guard appears or she looks over her shoulder. As we walk on and on through the palace, I start to believe that it must be bigger on the inside than it appears from outside. Finally, after climbing another three floors, traversing a great hallway, and walking through a hollowed-out wall between two rooms, Angelica reaches the end of a passage. Stopping in the open doorway, she looks down. I move to the side so I can see past her. At her feet is a spiral stairway leading down to the bottom of a circular room. At the level of the door, a balcony rings the circumference of the room.

  Angelica descends the stairs. As I move into the doorway, the room below comes into view: richly embroidered curtains hanging on either side of the window, a pedestal holding a bowl of fruit, and—

  And Chase. Lying on the floor on his side, his wrists and ankles still cuffed to chains and his skin a crisscross pattern of gashes and cuts. Silent and unmoving.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  I clutch the balcony railing to keep myself steady as I look down at Chase. They tortured every part of him, but his back is definitely the worst. I have to look away from the torn mess of skin so I don’t throw up. I inch along the balcony, barely breathing as Angelica reaches the base of the stairs. She nudges Chase’s arm with her foot. He doesn’t move. “The witches told me to leave someone guarding you,” she says, “or to at least attach these chains to the wall. But I knew you weren’t going anywhere. I left the bowl of fruit here to prove it to them. To show that even though you’re starving and no doubt desperate for food, you’re unable to move an inch. I’m glad to see I was right.” She leans back against the balustrade, swinging something around and around her finger: a key on a string. “I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. I wasn’t counting on your dear, dead grandmother revealing your existence to everyone. I thought she’d torture you in private and then get rid of you rather than admitting to the world that her precious guardians failed to defeat the great Lord Draven a decade ago.” She crouches down and grips his chin between her fingers, turning his face toward her.

  Up on the balcony, I release my aching grip on the railing, turn my hands over, and begin gathering magic above my palms. Patience, I instruct myself. Don’t act too soon. You’ll only get one chance.

  “The fae realm is probably in a flurry of panic right now,” Angelica says. “The death of the Seelie Queen and the return of Lord Draven—all in one night! What next? Another Destruction? Another winter?” She pats his cheek and lets his head fall to the side again. “I suppose it might be like another Destruction when the veil comes down. Who knows? The only thing I do know is that chaos will reign as our two worlds merge into one, and I will be the one to take charge amidst that chaos.” Chase doesn’t respond. Angelica stands and crosses her arms. “You know, I look at the state you’re in now and wonder if I should feel bad. You are my son, after all. Shouldn’t I feel something for you? But then I remember that you’ve never really been my son, and I’ve never really been your mother, and then I don’t feel bad at all.”

  She laughs—actually laughs. I grit my teeth, telling myself to wait just a little longer, gather just a little more magic.

  “In fact,” she adds, “given that you left me to spend my remaining centuries in Velazar Prison, I don’t think it would have bothered me at all to witness your torture.” She brings her foot down hard on his fingers, on his nails that are already split and bleeding. He jerks away—the first sign of life he’s shown—groaning in pain.

  My heart cries out at the sound, and I throw everything I’ve got at Angelica. My magic strikes her in the chest and throws her clear across the room. It isn’t enough to stun her, but it’s enough to leave her in a groaning heap on the floor. My illusion gone, I leap over the railing and land in a crouch, jumping up immediately as all the training I’ve ever had kicks in. Magic in the form of fire blazes across the room, but I lunge to the side, drawing Angelica away from Chase. My hand shoots out, a sizzle of sparks leaving my fingers and striking the wall just above Angelica’s head. She shouts something as she rolls away and springs to her feet. I advance on her, imagining thick mist between us to blind her seconds before I throw myself at her. I slam her against the wall, but she retaliates with a hard punch of magic to my stomach. I stumble backward, gasping for breath, and knock into the pedestal. It wobbles and falls. The fruit bowl shatters, sending oranges and apples rolling across the floor. I dance around the fruit, dodging again as Angelica runs at me. Her magic transforms into hundreds of tiny sharp stones, but I fling them aside with a sweep of power. I spin around and kick. She falls backward against the wall, the quiet ping of a metal key hitting the floor accompanying her gasp. I drop down, grasp the pedestal, release magic to help me hoist it up, and throw it with all my might. It slams into her chest and throws her backward once more. The whack of her head against the wall is audible, and when she slumps to the floor this time, she doesn’t move.

  After scrambling to the window, I pull the tasseled gold tie-back from the curtain, sever it in half with a spark of magic, and use it to bind Angelica’s wrists and ankles. Her magic can probably burn through these ropes in seconds, but if she wakes soon, those seconds might be all I need to fight her down again.

  With Angelica bound, I can finally turn my attention to Chase. My eyes dart across the floor, searching for the key Angelica dropped. The
re! The rusted metal is dull against the shiny marble floor. I dash across the room, grab the key, and drop to my knees beside Chase. Bending over his arm, I examine the metal cuff around his wrist. This metal is the magic-blocking kind, but it isn’t stuck to his skin the way the ring at Velazar Prison stuck to my finger. It’s just loose enough to shift around and leave his skin raw—which hopefully means it requires only this key and not the special spell the Velazar guard used to remove the ring.

  I push the key into the keyhole and twist it. It takes more force than I expected, but eventually the metal springs apart and falls away from Chase’s wrist. I gently lift his arm and push the chains aside. Before allowing myself to look at him properly, I remove the other three manacles. I kick them away and scramble back to his side, tears already pricking behind my eyes. For two and a half weeks, I’ve longed to be close enough to touch him, but now that he’s right beside me and I can see the damage done to his body, I’m afraid any touch will hurt him. My hands hover above his arms, his torso, his neck. So many wounds. So much dried blood. I don’t know what to do or where to start, and it’s so overwhelming that I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes.

  His eyelids flutter, and a low groan escapes him. “Chase?” I gently take his face between my hands, my thumbs rubbing across the rough stubble along his jaw. “Can you hear me?” His lips move but no sound comes out. His eyes swivel, blinking but not seeming to focus on anything. “It’s me, Calla. Please … please say something.” I bow my head and squeeze my eyelids together as tears wet my face. “Please, please, please,” I murmur. Please everything. Please remember me, please be okay, please tell me how to save you.

  A rasping whisper breaks the silence: “Goldilocks.” My breath catches. “What did you do to your hair?”

  I open my eyes, laughter mingling with my tears as relief crashes into me. “You—you’re okay,” I manage to say. He raises one arm as if to touch me, but his face contorts with pain. It’s enough to force my brain back into action. “Um, okay. I removed the manacles. Your body should be able to heal itself now. But it could take a while. You … you’re not in a good way.”

  “I know,” he forces out between gritted teeth, closing his eyes and twisting slightly as if he can somehow move away from the pain.

  “Don’t roll onto your back. It’s bad. I—I don’t know if it needs to be treated in some way before your magic closes up the wounds. I don’t have any potions with me, though.”

  “My magic will … be enough. I’m stronger than you know.”

  I look over my shoulder at Angelica. She hasn’t moved yet, but she could wake at any moment. I turn back to Chase. I know his magic is strong—I’ve seen him gather stunner magic within seconds and conjure a blizzard into being in almost an instant—so I don’t doubt that he can heal himself without assistance. My concern is for how long it will take. I consider transferring some of my own magic into his body—it’s the only kind of healing I know how to do—but the effect would be minimal given the extent of his injuries. It would probably be a better use of my magic to move him up the stairs and out of Angelica’s sight instead of trying to heal him down here.

  “Chase?” I say. As he struggles to open his eyes again, I scramble away, grab two apples, and return to his side. “We have to get out of this room before Angelica wakes up. We can’t escape the palace, but we can hide until help comes. I don’t know what happened to Gaius and the rest of the team, but I know they won’t just leave us here.”

  Chase swallows before speaking. “Tunnels,” he says. “Emergency escape tunnels for the royal family. That’s how Angelica got in.”

  “Escape tunnels?” That must be what Angelica was speaking to the guard about. “That’s perfect. Do you know where they are?”

  “Greenhouse. I think. A witch mentioned coming in that way.”

  “Okay. I don’t know where that is, but we can find it.”

  “I know it. The rose one. I’ve … been here before.”

  “Okay. Great.” I push one apple into my right pocket and the other into the left. “I’m going to use magic to levitate you up to the—”

  “I can stand,” Chase says, his face twisting again as he tries to push himself up. He slips back now, panting from the effort and the pain.

  “Are you crazy? Just let me do this.”

  “Seriously,” he says. “I can … stand. Just help me up. My arms … I don’t know … They’re hard to move. But my legs are fine. Bruised, not broken.”

  I shake my head, but reach for his shoulder anyway. Using a little magic to assist me, I manage to pull him to his feet. Once upright, he lurches forward, but I catch him before he falls. “Rethinking the levitation plan yet?”

  “No. That would leave you … way too … exhausted.”

  I almost laugh. “My potential exhaustion really isn’t a concern right now. You’re the one I’m worried about. Besides, I’m using magic anyway to help keep you upright.”

  “Not nearly as much as levitation would require.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Angelica. One of her bound hands twitches, but her eyes are still closed. “Fine,” I whisper to Chase, placing his arm carefully across my shoulders. “We’ll do this your way. We’re going to conquer the stairs, and we’re going to do it quickly.”

  A huff of air he may have intended to be a laugh blows past my ear. “I’ve missed your optimism, Miss Goldilocks.”

  I smile to myself. Warmth expands across my chest, and the urge to pull him into my arms and tell him every single thing I’ve missed about him is almost overwhelming. Later, I promise myself. Get the hell out of here first.

  Our journey up the stairs is painfully slow. I keep my arm around Chase’s back but with a buffer of magic between us, both to stop me from brushing against his wounds and to help push him up the stairs. I look over the balcony as we reach the top. Angelica is beginning to stir.

  “Hurry,” I whisper, dragging Chase out of the room. He stumbles along beside me, far slower than I’d like. “Turn here.” We take a corridor Angelica didn’t walk through on her journey here. “I don’t know if we should—” A roar of anger echoes from somewhere behind us. “Crap, she just woke up. She’ll be out of those bonds in seconds. Where can—Oh, an elevator!” I steer Chase toward it, trying to ignore his groans of agony. I throw a glance over my shoulder as we wait for the door to vanish. The moment it does, we rush inside. As the door reappears, I turn to the semicircular dial. In place of numbers, there are symbols. “Mean anything to you?”

  “No. Just go to the bottom.”

  I move the pointer to the far left of the dial and hope there’s nothing mixed-up about this elevator. At first it moves up, but as I’m about to panic, it moves right, down, left and down again. It continues down, down, down until it comes to a gentle halt and the door vanishes. I peer out before we move anywhere and find an empty courtyard. “We’re outside, so that helps.” We move across the courtyard and look out at the gardens beyond. “Hey, there’s a greenhouse right there.” I point straight ahead of us to the glass structure, unable to believe our luck.

  “No. Not the right one. We need the rose greenhouse.”

  Okay, I guess we’re not that lucky after all. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. The witch was complaining about all the roses that had grown over the tunnel trapdoor. They scraped her when she climbed out.” He looks past me. “Uh … just let me think … Yeah, it’s that way.” He motions to the right.

  As we move in that direction, keeping close to the side of the palace, I take an apple from my pocket. “Here. You seem a little less breathless now, so hopefully you’re able to eat without too much difficulty.”

  “Thanks. You don’t happen to have a three-course dinner in your pocket, do you?”

  “Unfortunately not. Your second course is another apple.” We skirt around a hedge, and on the other side, as I look up to make sure we’re still alone, I see a statue not too far away. A statue of a trident rising out of rough, st
ormy waves, mounted atop a cylindrical base.

  “What’s wrong?” Chase asks when I stop moving.

  “The monument.” I point ahead. “The monument required for the veil-tearing spell. It’s here.”

  “She’s going to do the spell here,” Chase murmurs.

  “What are we supposed to do? We can’t take it with us. We’re going through a tunnel. Besides, we have no idea what kind of magic is required to move it.”

  “We … we have to leave it here. At least now we know where Angelica will do the spell. We can come back.” He nods past the statue. “And there. That’s the right greenhouse.”

  As quickly as Chase can move, we hurry toward the small domed greenhouse pieced together from stained glass of different colors. The exquisite perfume of roses greets us as we enter. “So we’re looking for a trapdoor?”

  “Yes. I guess we’ll have to look beneath all the bushes.”

  I let go of Chase—then jerk back as someone in a plum-colored uniform steps out of the bushes. I grasp for an illusion to conceal us, but it’s too late. Then I see who it is that’s standing in front of us in the uniform that marks her as a member of the Seelie Queen’s personal guard, and I’m so shocked I probably would have dropped whatever illusion I came up with.

  Olive.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Miss Larkenwood,” Olive says. A guardian sword forms in one hand and a knife in the other as she shakes her head. “On the wrong side of the law once again, I see. However did you manage to find your way to the Seelie Court?”

  “It was all thanks to you. You lead me right here.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Still a liar, I see.”

  “Since we’re on the subject of liars,” I say as I move slowly in front of Chase, “what are you doing wearing someone else’s uniform?”

  “This is mine,” Olive snaps. “I’ve been part of the Seelie Queen’s personal guard for over three decades.”