A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6)

by Rachel Morgan

  “If that’s true, why aren’t you frozen on the platform with the rest of the guards who were supposed to be protecting the former queen last night?”

  “Not that I’m required to answer to you, but I returned from my duty in Creepy Hollow late last night. It appears I missed the festivities.”

  “So you’re … what? The Queen’s spy? You keep an eye on everything going on at the Guild and then report back to her?”

  “Yes. There is one at every Guild. Total waste of time having to deal with Guild business and useless trainees, but that’s what the Queen wants. Well, wanted, given that she’s no longer with us.”

  “Hey, at least you have one less useless trainee to waste your oh-so-precious time on now.”

  She points her sword at me as she inches closer. “You know, Calla, it’s a pity you turned out to be Griffin Gifted and a murderer. You would have made an excellent guardian if not for those two rather large stains on your record.”

  “Of course I would have. All thanks to your exceptional training methods, I’m sure.”

  “What is your Griffin Ability anyway?” she asks. “I haven’t quite worked it out yet.”

  “Don’t fight me, and I’ll consider telling you.”

  She remains silent, watching me. I return her gaze, waiting. I know it’s about to begin. The question is, who will make the first move.

  She flings her knife forward. Instantly, I raise my arms, a shield shimmering just beyond them. The knife hits my shield and vanishes. I push Chase sideways into the roses and run at Olive. I hear his cry as he falls, but I try not to feel bad. Rather a few scratches as he lands amongst thorns instead of a guardian knife to the head. Olive slashes her sword through the air, but I change direction at the last second and leap out of reach. She throws another guardian knife. I drop down, letting the knife fly over my head and—is that the corner of a metal trapdoor in the dirt?

  I scramble away through the bushes, pulling a knife from my boot and shouting, “Why are you wasting time fighting me? You should be fighting Angelica.”

  “I’ll get to her, don’t worry. In the meantime, I need to stop Lord Draven and his murderous accomplice from getting away. Fortunately, the former lord is already close to death, and you—” the bushes ahead of me rustle in protest as Olive leaps in front of me “—are about to find yourself in a similar state.”

  “I don’t think so.” An imaginary version of Chase—whole and healthy and powerful—appears behind Olive. She swings around at the sound of his voice, and in her moment of confusion, I stab my knife into her foot and pull it back out.

  Her scream of pain is cut off a second later as a ball of magic flies across the greenhouse and hits her abdomen. It knocks her into the air and over the bushes. She lands on the gravelly path running along the center of the greenhouse and doesn’t get up. I stand, look around, and see Chase—the real Chase, barely recognizable beneath a mixture of blood and grime—panting slightly as he watches my fallen ex-mentor.

  “You stunned her?” I demand.

  “Yeah.”

  “But …” Instead of reminding him that he’s supposed to be healing himself and not wasting large amounts of magic, I hurry to his side to help him. “I think I saw the trapdoor while I was crawling across the ground.” I wipe my blade on my pants and push it back into the sheath in my boot. Ignoring the scratch of thorns, I move bushes aside until I find the metal square in the ground. “This must be it.” I point magic at the ring on one side of the square and tug it back toward me. Nothing happens.

  “Are you trying to open it?” Chase asks as he steps unsteadily away from me. “Only the royals can do that. The tunnel is for them, after all.”

  I slowly lower my hand to my side as his words sink into my brain. “What?”

  He gets onto his knees with some difficulty. “The trapdoor can only be opened by someone from the royal bloodline.”

  I stare at him. “You tell me this now? How are we supposed to open it?”

  He raises an eyebrow. A grimace that could pass for a smile pulls at his lips as he waits for me to arrive at the answer.

  “Oh. Right.” I press my hands to my face and groan. “I’m an idiot. Why do I keep forgetting you’re actually a prince?”

  “I don’t mind,” he says as I lower my hands. “At least I don’t have to worry that you’re only after me for my title.” He’s smiling fully now as he watches me. He wraps his hand around the metal ring and says, “Ready to pull?”

  I extend my magic again and tug. This time, the trapdoor lifts. Chase lets go of the ring as I pull the trapdoor all the way, allowing it to drop onto an already partially flattened rosebush. I peer into the darkness and see stairs leading down. With a final glance over my shoulder at Olive’s prone body, I step carefully down the stairs. I stop after several steps and reach back for Chase. He takes my hand, using it to keep himself steady as he moves down the stairs.

  We reach the bottom together. I look up toward the trapdoor and send magic out to pull it closed. Complete darkness surrounds us. Then, without warning, light blazes into being, glowing from beneath the tunnel floor. “Did you do something?” I ask Chase.

  “I used the wall to hold myself up. Do you think that counts?”

  “Perhaps. Maybe it’s your royal touch.”

  “Maybe.” Chase pushes away from the wall. With all the dried blood smeared across his body, it’s difficult to tell if his wounds are healing. But he isn’t as stooped as he was when we first ran into the garden, and his expression is no longer tense with agony. He must be growing stronger. “Are you okay with being down here?” he asks. “It’s a little narrower than the Underground tunnels we’ve traveled along in Creepy Hollow.”

  I look around, realizing I hadn’t even noticed the closeness of the tunnel walls. Lumethon’s desensitization exercises must have made more of a difference than I thought. “Yes, I’m fine, actually. Compared to the gargoyle tunnel, this is like being out in the open.” I slip my arm around his back. “Can you run? If Angelica figures out we came this way, she’ll be after us in no time.”

  “Almost. I’m still weak, but most of the pain is gone. You run. I’ll try to keep up.”

  I walk at a brisk pace, holding on to Chase’s hand and running a little every few steps. With his longer stride, Chase keeps up with me. “Did you know about the escape tunnels before you heard Angelica mention them?” I ask.

  “Yes. At least, I’d heard stories of them. But this palace didn’t interest me much when I was Lord Draven, so I never bothered to learn more. The tunnels didn’t cross my mind again until I heard Angelica and her witch companions speak of them.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t have helped us if we’d known they existed. We wouldn’t have known where the other side is, and we wouldn’t have been able to open—” I stop as a pounding echo reaches us. “Did you hear that?” I whisper.

  Chase pauses and listens as the echo comes again. “Perhaps Olive’s woken already and is trying to get through the trapdoor.”

  “She’s going to be trying for a long time if royals are the only ones who can open it. At least we know she won’t tell Angelica, since she plans to go after her too.” I look over at Chase as we continue moving along the twisting tunnel. “Why are some of the guards happy to serve Angelica? She spoke about the guards who are not loyal to her, which implies there are some who are.”

  “I don’t know for sure. It may be that the guards who’ve been here for a long time, those who were around when Angelica was growing up, saw the way her mother treated her. They may have felt sorry for her, and perhaps some even wished she was the heir instead of her older sister.”

  “I suppose that could be it.” As Chase moves faster beside me, I quicken my brisk walk to a jog. My brain struggles to comprehend how fast his body has managed to heal itself. If I looked anything like he did when I found him just now, my body would take days, not hours, to recover.

  “Looks like … the end,” Chase says, sounding
a little breathless. He doubles over as we stop in front of another set of stairs.

  “That was shorter than I expected.” I look over my shoulder, more out of paranoia than anything else, then up at the trapdoor. I raise my hands and push against the air with magic. “I think you need to touch it,” I say when the trapdoor doesn’t budge. Chase climbs the stairs and lifts his hand to the square of metal above his head. I push again, and this time it moves.

  Climbing out of the tunnel, we find ourselves in a forest bathed in the pale light of early evening. Though I wonder briefly how it took me the whole day to find Chase, I’m just glad we’ve made it out of the palace. The tall trees that reach elegantly for the sky and the faintly luminous colors surrounding us remind me of the river and the forest at the beginning of the Seelie Court journey. I look behind me. Through the trees, white walls and towers rise up in the distance, separated from us by a translucent layer of silver. The witches’ shield. “Still feels like we’re far too close to the palace,” I say as I close the trapdoor. “Let’s get as far away as possible.”

  “I won’t argue with—Look out!” Chase throws his hand out toward me. A rush of air knocks me backward—out of the path of an arrow. I hit the ground on my back. Winded and struggling for breath, I force myself to sit up while looking wildly around.

  A centaur gallops through the trees toward Chase, his bow raised. And another one over there—and another! I drop the mental wall around my mind in an instant. I picture the Seelie Queen—the former queen, Angelica’s mother—rising from the ground as if she just climbed from the tunnel. I’m invisible; Chase is invisible; there’s no one here but her. As I watch her raise her hands and bellow out a command, fatigue hits me, immediate and unyielding. I feel it drain my energy, faster than ever before. I can’t stop, though. I need this illusion to get us out of here.

  The centaurs, at least a dozen of them, some bearing the evidence of a recent fight, emerge from between the trees. Though some appear confused at our sudden disappearance, they all lower the front half of their bodies and bow their heads to the projection of the Queen. I climb shakily to my feet as something bumps into me, almost knocking me over again. It’s Chase, grasping for my arm, my hand. We creep away slowly through the trees, hanging onto one another as I keep my gaze focused over my shoulder, watching the Queen instruct the centaurs to stand guard over the tunnel entrance while she escapes her enemies. “The enemies you allowed into this tunnel!” I add to her words. It’s a guess, but I assume that’s the reason these centaurs are here: to guard the tunnel entrance from a royal traitor just like Angelica.

  The centaurs gather around the trapdoor as my projection of the Queen slips through the trees and Chase and I sneak further away. I stop imagining her, but I don’t stop thinking of us as invisible. Even when we’re far from the centaurs, and even though the effort is exhausting me, I don’t let go of the illusion. Centaur eyesight is sharp, and I don’t want either of us to wind up with an arrow in our backs.

  We start running when I guess they can no longer hear us. Chase gasps beside me from the effort, and I’m breathless from the curse’s effects, but still we keep running. Finally, as we reach the edge of the forested area where a formation of multiple rocks encircles a small pool, I let go of the illusion. We climb over a rock, around a few smaller ones, and collapse onto the ground. I lean back against the rough stone surface, breathing deeply and hoping my exhaustion passes. Chase shifts around to face me and rests his side against the rock. His eyes are closed as he pants, “I’m sorry, I’m just … a little lightheaded.”

  Though fatigue has settled over me like a heavy blanket I can’t shed, breathing is at least easier now that I’m sitting. I reach for Chase’s hand. Despite being stained with blood and dirt, his skin is smooth. Healed and whole. I slide my fingers between his. “We did it,” I whisper. “We actually made it out alive.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Chase’s eyelids open and his warm brown eyes settle on me. For a long, silent moment, we simply watch each other. Then he raises his hand and rests it against my cheek. His thumb brushes beneath my lashes where dark makeup stains my skin. He moves his hand down my neck to my shoulder, where he rubs a strand of my charcoal-colored hair between his fingers. “My dark angel,” he says. “That’s what you looked like spinning around the tower room, fighting off a queen.” His hand slides down my arm and closes around my fingers. “After they began the …” He swallows, choosing not to say it, to skip past the word torture. “I was afraid I’d never see you again. I was afraid I wouldn’t … last until the ball.”

  Perhaps it’s my curse-induced exhaustion. Perhaps it’s the thought of what he suffered through, or the realization that I finally, finally have him back, or the ever-present ache surrounding Victoria’s death and my parents’ incarceration, or the knowledge that the full moon is only a day away and our fight is far from over. Perhaps it’s everything. But suddenly I feel a dam’s worth of tears rising up behind my eyes. They spill down my cheeks as my face crumples and a sob wrenches free from my chest.

  Chase’s arms encircle me, pulling me tightly against his chest. I worry that I’m going to hurt him, but I don’t see any remaining lacerations through my falling tears. I sink against him, letting him rub my back as I cry myself empty. I feel terrible because I’m the one who should be comforting him, not the other way around, but I can’t seem to stop.

  When eventually I stop shuddering, I pull gently away. “I’m sorry,” I mumble as I wipe my tears, my fingers coming away black from the smeared makeup.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I wipe my fingers on my pants. “For what?”

  “The smell. And the blood and dirt. You can probably tell it’s been a while since I showered.”

  I laugh through my remaining tears. “You don’t honestly think I care about that, do you?”

  He smiles and takes my right hand. Lifting it, he says, “I see you got a few tattoos.”

  I nod and sniff. “First mission. Ana said I wasn’t properly part of the team until I got some ink. This is the only one that’s permanent.” I point to the rose on my fourth finger. It’s the clearest shape; the other marks are fading already. “I, um, still want the phoenix on my back. And I want you to do it.”

  He raises my hand to his lips and kisses each finger before saying, “When all this is over, I’d be honored to do that for you.” His fingers slip between mine as he lowers our hands. He looks down. “The last time we spoke with the rings—”

  “I’m know, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at—”

  “No, stop.” He shakes his head. “I’m not looking for an apology. I … I want to know how you are. How you’re … dealing with what happened.”

  I pull my hand away from his and wrap my arms around my knees. “It’s shameful to admit, but … I wanted to kill Zed. I wanted to kill the witches. I’m filled with so much guilt over what happened that I was desperate to somehow make it right. I’m still desperate to make things right, but now I’ve realized that … I can’t. Nothing I do—nothing—will ever bring Victoria back or make Ryn and Vi hate me any less. And that leaves me feeling so … helpless.”

  Chase nods. “I know.”

  Of course he knows. He knows better than anyone what’s it like to cause grief and pain and have no way to ever set things right. “What’s left, then?” I whisper. “What can I do?”

  “The only thing you can do: apologize. Sincerely and from the depths of your heart. After that, it’s up to them whether they choose to forgive you or not.”

  “And what if they don’t?”

  “Then that’s something both you and they have to live with.”

  I look away, nodding as more tears rise to the surface and keep me from being able to speak. Eventually, when I’ve blinked them away and got my emotions under control, I force a half-hearted smile onto my face and say, “I’m officially changing the subject now.” I look him up and down. “It’s re
markable how quickly you’ve healed.”

  He stretches his arms out in front of him, turning them over as he examines them. “It helps to have an unusually large amount of magic. Actually, it helps to have any magic. If I were human, I’d have to worry about infection, blood poisoning, scarring. But none of that’s a concern.” Eyeing the black vine of thorns twisting down his left arm, he adds, “Even my tattoo has returned to normal, which I find amazing.”

  “It is amazing. I thought the tattoo would be a mess once your skin healed. What about your back, though? That seemed to be the worst.”

  “Still feels tender,” he says, twisting around so I can have a look. “That was from …” He shudders. “Well, I’d rather not speak about it. Are there any open wounds left?”

  “No,” I say with some surprise. “Your skin has healed over every single gash. They look more like pink, shiny burns at the moment. Well, from what I can see past all the dried blood.”

  He swivels back around. “I think it’s time to get clean. If we have to spend the night out here, which I assume is what we’re doing if we can’t access the faerie paths, then I’d rather not subject you to the smell any longer.”

  “Well, we could start walking,” I say as he pushes himself up, “but it would take us a long time to reach an area we can access the paths from. Gaius will have come back for us before then.” And walking anywhere in my current state of fatigue does not seem appealing.

  Chase extends a hand and pulls me to my feet. “Is there a possibility the rest of the team is stuck inside the palace or on the grounds?”

  “I don’t think so. Our agreement was to run if anything went wrong and regroup somewhere far beyond the Seelie Queen’s reach. If there was enough time for the guests to get away, then I assume our team got away too.”

  “Good.” Chase climbs between the rocks. He pulls off the remaining shreds of his T-shirt, wincing as his barely healed skin stretches across his back. In the dim light, I take in the full canvas of crisscrossing stripes. I picture the whip cracking down—and look away, blinking and stopping my thoughts before they can make me sick. I look to the sky instead. The blue-purple of twilight and the first stars twinkling faintly. “Are you coming?” Chase calls as he lowers himself into the pool.