A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6)

by Rachel Morgan

  “Probably trying to lead us somewhere,” Chase says, “so I vote we turn right instead.”

  We turn right, walk to the end of the corridor, and enter a wider hallway. We continue, but not a minute passes before we hear the laughter again, up ahead of us. “Infuriating,” Elizabeth mutters as we stop and look around. The laughter sounds again, more childlike this time. Chase clenches his hand into a fist. Thunder booms loudly and unexpectedly, rumbling and echoing off the walls. In response, the laughter increases in volume, coming at us from all directions. High-pitched, wild, overlapping in layer upon layer of sound.

  “Just keep going,” I say, wishing I wasn’t holding knives so I could instead cover my ears. “They’re watching us from somewhere, but if we keep looking, we’ll find them eventually.” I hope, I add silently.

  We move swiftly along the hallway and into smaller passages, looking in every room we pass. The wild laughter follows us. At the end of another corridor, we find ourselves in a room full of bathing pools. Steam rises from each one and petals float upon the water. White columns wrapped with ivy and glow bugs stand between the pools. I breathe in the rose-scented air and cast a longing gaze at the pools before turning away and leaving the room. If only I could soak in steaming water and forget every care and concern.

  With a sigh, I follow Chase and Elizabeth back along the corridor and down the stairs we decided to ignore until after we’d checked the remainder of this floor. As the stairway curves away from the wall, I look out a window—and see a moving figure.

  “Oh! A witch!” I blurt out. “Down there by the maze.” As I say the words, laughter shrieks right beside me, causing me to flinch, and the woman far below in the garden turns and looks directly up at the palace. Up at me. It’s so creepy that I shrink immediately away from the window.

  Elizabeth climbs back up a step and looks out the window. “Are you sure? I don’t see anyone there.”

  “It was definitely one of the witches. Long blonde hair, and those smoky dresses they seem to be so fond of.”

  “Smoky dresses?” Elizabeth repeats, looking at me as her eyebrows pull together.

  “Yes, well, they look like they’re made of smoke.”

  Elizabeth returns her gaze to the window, seemingly perplexed.

  “Let’s get down there,” Chase says, already hurrying down the stairs two at a time. We reach the floor below and have to find another set of stairs before we can descend to ground level. I wonder if anyone who lives here ever knows where they are; I find it utterly confusing.

  The rosy golden light of sunrise floods the garden by the time we make it outside. Beyond a small pavilion and a little bridge curving over a stream rise the outer hedges of the maze. Without pause, we run toward it. At the entrance, I hesitate, knowing this has to be some kind of trap. Elizabeth, who seems to be having similar thoughts, says, “Can’t we burn it down? That seems safer than entering.”

  A flame burns above Chase’s palm a moment later, but it refuses to ignite the hedge. “It’s protected,” he mutters. “Look, it may seem silly to enter the maze knowing a witch has lured us here, but we can handle whatever she throws at us. Besides, even if we could burn the maze to the ground, the witch would get away long before that and we’d have to hunt her down again.”

  “Then let’s stop wasting time,” I say, “and get in there.”

  As we take our first steps onto the grassy path of the maze, the light above us fades, as if a heavy cloud has been drawn across the sun. A chill crawls across my skin. We move as quickly as we can, paying attention to whether we’ve chosen to go left or right each time our path branches. Soon enough, we come to a dead end and have to go back. Memorizing our path—left, left, right, left, right—as well as the changes we have to make for every dead end, is a welcome distraction from thoughts of what may lie at the center of the maze. I tense before rounding every new corner, wondering what obstacle may greet us. But we see nothing, and the only sound is the rustle of grass beneath our feet.

  When we walk around what feels like the millionth corner and find that we’re suddenly in the center of the maze, I jolt to a stop, my grip tightening on my knives. Only a few paces away, on the back of a stone unicorn, sits the younger of the two witches. The older witch stands just behind her. “Ah, there you are,” the younger one says, an ancient wickedness reverberating beneath her sweet, clear voice, “We were going to lead you on for a little longer, but you had to look out the window, and now the fun is over.”

  “The fun’s actually just about to start,” Chase says, bright white magic already crackling around his fingertips.

  The witch, however, ignores Chase and focuses on me. “Not going to try and confuse us with an illusion?” she asks innocently. In the pause that follows, she starts laughing. “I didn’t think so. Your magic is almost mine, sweet girl. I can feel it.”

  Chase’s gaze snaps to mine, confused and questioning, before flashing back to the witch. He raises one hand—but Elizabeth reaches out and stops him. “So it is you,” she says, addressing the witches. “Tilda. Sorena. I was curious when I heard there were witches in Creepy Hollow, but I told myself it couldn’t be either of you. Didn’t I leave you to die in a volcano?”

  The younger witch, Tilda I presume, jumps down from the statue. “Scarlett?” she says, squinting into the dim light. “Little Scarlett?” She tilts her head back and laughs. Sorena remains silent, her black eyes glaring at Elizabeth. “Well, well. Look at you, dear Scarlett,” Tilda says. “You could have been one of us by now. Powerful and dangerous and part of a great sisterhood of witches.”

  Wait, what? Elizabeth was almost a witch? I look over at Chase to see if he’s as surprised as I am, but his expression hasn’t changed. Of course he knows, I tell myself. Didn’t Elizabeth say they’ve told each other all their secrets? At least I understand now how she came to be in possession of a witch’s spell book.

  “I’m powerful and dangerous as I am,” Elizabeth says to Tilda. “And I can do without the sisterhood crap.”

  “Clearly,” Tilda answers, her smile turning icy, “since you decided to kill one of my sisters.”

  “Self defense,” Elizabeth says with a shrug.

  “We should strike her down where she stands,” Sorena growls through her pointed teeth. “Tell the ground to swallow her whole.”

  “Ah, Sorena,” Elizabeth says. “Do you have a voice now, or are you still shrinking into the shadows of others?”

  Sorena’s words are a dangerously low whisper: “You will pay for what you did.”

  “You are the ones who should pay!” Elizabeth shouts. “How many men died to fuel the dome you’ve placed over this palace? How many innocents are you planning to kill tonight in order to bring down the veil?”

  Tilda quirks her head. “Who said they’re innocent?”

  “Malena wasn’t innocent, but that doesn’t mean I should have killed her. Likewise, you shouldn’t be killing anyone tonight.”

  Tilda’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Come and stop me then.”

  The fork of lightning is almost instantaneous. I look away, squinting against the glare. When it’s gone a second later, I turn back and see the statue shattered and the two witches on the ground. They’re unharmed, though, scrambling to their feet as a silvery layer becomes apparent around them. Tilda laughs, but the sound is a shadow of her former glee. She’s clearly shaken, despite her pretense at dignity. “You think we would stand before the former Lord Draven unprotected?” she asks in mocking tones. Beside her, Sorena holds up a black cylindrical shape. A candle.

  “No!” Elizabeth shouts, lunging forward as Chase whips a tornado into existence. But the candle is inside the witches’ shield, and it catches light the moment Sorena snaps her fingers. With a cry of rage, Chase brings down another bolt of lightning more blinding than the first. It shakes the ground at my feet and almost deafens me.

  The witches, however, are gone.

  “Dammit,” Chase mutters. “That should hav
e broken through their magic.”

  “It would have,” Elizabeth says, “if they’d still been standing there. You were a split second too late, I think.”

  “But—how did they get away?” I ask. “The faerie paths—”

  “They don’t use faerie paths to travel,” Elizabeth tells me. “They use candles. The black candle—”

  Her words are cut off as the ground shudders once more. “Are you doing that?” I ask Chase as I struggle to keep my balance on the oddly undulating ground.

  “No.” Chase looks all around, his eyes coming to rest on the pieces of the unicorn statue. Slowly, the pieces sink into the ground as the grassy surface on which they sit turns to green liquid. The liquid begins to spread. “Run!” he yells.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  My feet pound the grass as I struggle to remember the turns we took to get here. With the ground rolling beneath my feet, I trip and catch myself against the tall hedges numerous times. As I race around a corner and come to a dead end, I realize I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. Chase slams into me, and so does Elizabeth. I tumble forward against the hedge. Branches scratch across my palms as I grasp hold of them and keep myself upright. I swivel around with difficulty as Chase and Elizabeth remain pressed against me.

  “Jump!” Chase yells, grabbing our hands. We bend and spring into the air, and an impossibly powerful tornado sweeps us up. My hair whips around, blinding me as I spin and tumble through the air. Seconds later, I land on the ground, breathless and dizzy. I push my hair out of my face and find that we’re some distance away from the maze.

  “What the hell was that?” Elizabeth gasps.

  “‘Tell the ground to swallow her whole,’” I say between my panting. “I think that’s what it was.”

  “Damn witch magic,” she mutters.

  “They must have transported themselves to somewhere else on the grounds,” Chase says, looking around after he stands. “Or perhaps outside the dome-shield. Presumably somewhere close enough for them to retain control of it.”

  “You’re all okay, right?” Ana asks from wherever she is in the palace. “Don’t want to distract you or anything, but we were biting our nails over here listening to you yelling about running and jumping and the witches getting away.”

  “We’re fine,” Chase says. “Anything to report on your end?”

  “Not much. We’ve dodged a few guards and other randoms who must have come onto the grounds with Angelica. Unsavory-looking types.”

  “Guys!” Darius shouts, the first we’ve heard from him in a while. “Who’s closest to the ballroom? Just spotted Angelica walking that way. I mean, she looks tiny from way up here, but I’m pretty sure it’s her.”

  “I think we’re closest,” Chase says, spinning around and heading immediately back toward the palace. “Are you in a tower?”

  “Yes. Can’t see any of you, though. You must be on the other side. But we can see that courtyard with the fountain. The one leading into the ballroom. Angelica just crossed it.”

  “We’re on our way,” Chase says, launching into a run.

  I race after him, pushing myself to keep up. Just keep going a little longer, I tell myself. It’s almost over. Then you can rest properly. The gardens rush by, but I pay little attention, keeping my eyes focused on Chase. We run alongside the palace for a while, then across an open corridor, and there it is—the courtyard with the fountain.

  “We’re here,” Chase says, panting a little. “We’re about to go in.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Gaius asks.

  “Come to the ballroom, but stay out of sight. Don’t interfere unless you see I need help. If things go badly and we need to make a quick exit, we’ll meet at the rose greenhouse. The dome-shield might be gone, but we can’t get through that waterfall at the palace entrance. We’ll have to take the tunnel and fight off the centaurs instead.”

  The rest of the team acknowledges Chase’s instructions while the three of us cross the courtyard. We pause in the wide ballroom doorway, looking in. Angelica’s on the other side, walking toward the throne on the dais. She moves slowly, swinging her skirt around her, clearly unaware that we’re here. The bodies of Princess Audra and the former queen have been removed, as have the guards who were frozen behind the throne. But the masks, food, glasses and other party debris still remain.

  We enter the ballroom, Chase moving slightly ahead. Dark, threatening clouds gather near the ceiling, and wind gusts through the ballroom. As Angelica’s loose hair flutters around her and several masks go skidding across the floor, she spins around. She seems surprised for a moment, but recovers quickly. “My, my,” she calls out to Chase. “You do look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” When he keeps advancing and doesn’t answer, she adds, “I thought my witchy accomplices would keep you busier for a little longer, but no matter. I’m fairly certain you’re too late to stop it.”

  “We’ve stopped it already, Angelica,” Chase tells her.

  She laughs before replying. “Oh have you now?”

  “Yes. You know you can’t fight me. And the full moon is still hours away. You’ll be in chains long before it rises.”

  “Will I?” Her words are answered by a zigzagging bolt of lightning that flashes down from the ceiling and out one of the windows. A boom of thunder follows instantly. Angelica clasps her hands together and shouts, “Ooh, I do love a good storm.” The wind whips faster around her, swirling into a tightening vortex filled with masks, glitter, feathers and bits of glass. “Fortunately for me,” she yells, “my witch friends left me with a little present.” She raises her hand above her head, and in her grasp is a glowing object with ridged edges that reflect the light. A crystal of some sort. She throws it onto the ground—and it explodes.

  The vortex scatters, and Angelica is thrown back toward the dais, her crown spinning across the floor and shrinking. Chase stumbles backward a few paces, but he wasn’t close enough to the crystal to be forced off his feet. “Not so fortunate,” he shouts, “when you throw yourself off your feet instead of your opponent.” He races across the ballroom, colliding with her just as she gets to her feet. Elizabeth and I edge closer, but neither of us gets involved in the battle. The flash of magic, the swirl of mist, the hailstones flying about, and the spinning, dodging, kicking and punching.

  Eventually, Chase wrestles Angelica to the floor. He pulls a piece of rope—unbreakable rope from the collection of items Gaius brought with him—out of his pocket. As Elizabeth and I hurry to help restrain Angelica, he lengthens the rope with magic. Her arm comes free, and she releases a pulse of magic at Elizabeth, sending her sliding across the floor. I reach for her flailing arm, but she slashes at me with sharp nails.

  “Stop!” I yell, finally grabbing her elbow and pinning her arm back while Chase gets the rope around her wrists.

  “Oh, don’t the two of you work together so nicely,” she taunts. “Perhaps you can work together for me in the new world I’ll be ruling.”

  “You’re delusional,” Chase says, climbing off her and pulling her up onto her feet. He picks up the fallen crown, which enlarges at his touch, illustrating his royal lineage. “Now, you’re going to walk with me to—”

  He’s interrupted by an odd crackling sound, followed by a shockwave that rushes through the air, punches into us, and knocks us to the floor. I’m dazed for several moments, but I sit up as soon as I can, looking around for the source of the shockwave. “What was that?”

  “The dome-shield just went down,” Darius answers. “Either the witches did it, or someone on the outside managed to break through.”

  Nearby, and still bound by unbreakable rope, Angelica laughs quietly. Whatever’s going on, she’s enjoying it. Chase and I climb to our feet, leaving her sitting on the floor. A short distance away, Elizabeth is already standing. “What’s that noise?” she asks. I listen carefully as an odd sound reaches my ears.

  “Holy freak,” Ana says. “A bajillion guardians jus
t arrived. Get down, Gaius! They’ll see you.”

  Wonderful. The noise belongs to the running feet of hundreds of guardians. Guardians who are flooding into the courtyard at this moment. “Is that the Guild?” Angelica asks, looking toward the ballroom door. “Oh, how wonderful! Everyone’s come out to play.”

  “Run,” Chase says, waving a hand through the air and filling the ballroom with thick fog. I don’t know which way Elizabeth goes, but I grab Chase’s hand, since he’s right beside me. I run with him, thinking he’s heading for one of the side doors near the dais, but then we stumble over two or three stairs, and we’re on the dais itself. By the time the mist starts clearing, we’re crouching behind the enormous throne.

  “Why are we still in this room?” I whisper.

  “So we can watch and listen.” Chase points to the base of the throne, which is constructed of a metal latticework. We can bend right down and look through it, getting a criss-cross view of the ballroom. “I want to make sure Angelica doesn’t have some other ridiculous bargain up her sleeve. She needs to go straight back to prison.”

  I look through the latticework and watch the guardians rush into the ballroom. Leading them is none other than Head Councilor Bouchard himself. “What’s happened here?” he demands when he reaches Angelica’s side. “Who bound you?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you it was my darling son?”

  It’s a good thing she didn’t see where we ran. I have no doubt she’d point us out in a heartbeat if she knew we were hiding here. “Take her,” Councilor Bouchard tells several guardians. “Make sure you keep her restrained. There’s a prison cell waiting with her name on it.”

  Angelica struggles against the guardians who hurry forward to lift her from her floor. “Don’t you dare touch me!” she shouts. “I am your Queen! Royal blood runs through my veins, and what you are doing is treason!”

  “And what you did was assassination,” Councilor Bouchard says. “Which means you’re going right back to prison.”