Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  It wasn’t until I spotted the fine silk clothes on my reflection that I realized I wasn’t looking at myself at all.

  It was someone else.

  The second he saw me, his arms dropped from the harp. He stared at me in silence, too shocked to speak.

  My mouth fell open as my whole body began to tremble. Neither of us knew what to do.

  “Who . . . who are you?” asked my double.

  “I think I'm you,” I replied, the words sounding so strange and surreal as they came out of my mouth. “I've been in your place.”

  He frowned and continued to stare at me. I noticed one of his hands return to the harp, but it wasn't to start playing again. It was to feel its solid form for safety and reassurance. He needed to make sure he could feel something real.

  “I'm not dreaming, am I?” he said. “You're really here.”

  “Yeah. I’m really here.”

  He dropped his hand from the harp and stood up. Then he crept towards me, one slow step at a time and outstretched a hand towards me.

  “You look just like me, but . . . ”

  He lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips against my cheek, his arm trembling ever so slightly.

  I could feel my breath catch in my chest as his skin touched mine. Looking deep into his face, I examined each line, each pore, each tiny micro-expression. He could’ve been my identical twin.

  “Where are you from?” he asked, lowering his hand.

  “Earth. The human world.”

  He gave me a skeptical once-over.

  “You're a human?”

  “No, you are.”

  He froze for a second. Then his face hardened.

  “I'm not human,” he seethed quietly. “That’s impossible.”

  I was aware that the fabric of his reality was on the cusp of disintegrating just as my own had. But he had to know the truth.

  “I’m the real Niklas,” I told him. “Your name is Logan Hawthorne.”

  His face hardened even more, his eyes darkening.

  “Don't spit these lies at me. I am Lord Niklas, eldest son of the Marquess and Marchioness of Tierstand!”

  “Yeah . . . I don’t think you are,” I said, holding up my hands in a pointless bid to calm him down, but he was getting angrier by the second.

  “Liar! Who sent you?” he demanded. “You have no place being here! Is this another one of Solana’s tricks?”

  “No. She took me from here. She had me kidnapped. She swapped us both as babies. I'm a changeling.”

  I was hoping this would help him understand, but all it did was make him angrier.

  “Get out. I don't know who you really are or what you want, but you're not welcome here! I am Lord Niklas! I always have been!”

  “I know this sounds crazy, but you have to understand,” I pleaded. “You had real parents up on the human realm. You still have a dad who—”

  “Get out!” he shouted. “Guards! Guards!”

  “What's happening?” came a light, airy female voice that punctured its way through the chaos. We both looked over to the doorway towards the figure who’d just come into the room. I could feel her energy before I saw her, sensing just how pure, yet powerful she was.

  For a second, I had to adjust my eyes to the sight of her. A glittering aura shimmered around her like a golden silhouette that burned my eyes. Gradually, the longer I looked, the more I could finally lay my eyes on the pristine, beautiful face of my birth mother. She looked at Niklas, then at me, the let out a gasp.

  “Who? Oh! Oh my goodness!”

  Sanne walked up to me, showing none of the fear or anger that my counterpart did.

  “Is it really you?” she cried, cupping her silken fingers around my face. She buried her nose in my hair, and I heard the tiniest sob catch in her throat. “Oh, Niklas . . . my little boy . . . you’ve found your way home . . . ”

  Her eyes bore into mine with a knowing gaze.

  She knew exactly who I was.

  “You must come,” she said. “Now.”

  Her fingers found their way to mine and she pulled me from the room.

  “Mama, where are you going with that imposter?” raged the other Niklas from behind. “Can you not see that we are in danger?”

  “There is no danger, my sweet,” she said, calming him with a single soothing gaze before leading me out the room. I found myself walking down another long, stone hallway, one hand clasping hers tightly while the other still held the flaming torch.

  “Come along,” she said, pulling me down the hallway. “There is someone you must see.”

  It felt like we’d walked for miles down endless corridors. When we at last reached a warm room covered in intricate tapestries draped from the walls, I collapsed onto a long cushion that stretched out in front of a roaring fire. But it wasn't just the walk that had tired me. I felt as though my brain had been frazzled from the sheer confusion and turmoil my mind had gone through.

  Lady Sanne, the woman I now believed to be my real mom, stood over me with a kind expression pulling at her pink lips.

  “I dreamed of you so often,” she said, kneeling down beside me. “I always hoped I would see you again.”

  “You knew?” I asked, sitting up and reaching for her hands. I couldn't take my eyes off her face. It was so beautiful. “You're not afraid of me.”

  Her smile warmed even further and she pulled me into a hug.

  “I have dreamed of you many times,” she said. “I always . . . ”

  Her voice broke and she stiffened slightly.

  “I did always feel that . . . that you were out there somewhere.”

  “So you thought I’d been taken?”

  Sanne gave a gentle nod.

  “The thought was always there. There was one night . . . I remember hearing you cry and entering your room. I saw you lying there. You looked like you but . . . there was something so different about you.”

  She hugged me tighter.

  “It was like there was a different look in your eye. You smelled different as well. You were not the same boy I had put to bed earlier.”

  She pulled away from me and looked sadly into the fire.

  “Of course your father would not listen to me. Niklas said I was imagining these subtle differences. I tried to explain to him that a mother knows, but he believed nothing I said.”

  The flames glittered in her already bright eyes giving the impression that she was burning from the inside out.

  “He said there was no way you could have been taken and replaced. That it was inconceivable someone could have entered the castle walls.”

  She turned back to me, sadness welling up in her burning eyes.

  “I tried to believe what my husband believed,” she sighed. “Perhaps I was simply being an overprotective mother. You were my firstborn . . . what did I know?”

  Slowly, she ran her fingertip down the edge of my face before pressing her index finger against the little indentation above my lip.

  “But your instincts were right,” I told her. “I had been taken.”

  A tear fell suddenly from her right eye as she bowed her head.

  “I'm so sorry,” she cried. “So, so sorry.”

  “Who are you speaking to?” bellowed a deep voice from the hall. A moment later, heavy footsteps approached.

  “Niklas, my love!” Sanne called out through the doorway. “Come quickly! There is someone you must meet!”

  20

  Elena

  It was 7:38pm and there was no sign of my partner. I’d tried texting a few times even though I knew he wanted to be alone. Maybe he’d shut off his phone, or left it on ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode.

  I was concerned by his memory of being stolen from his crib. I was even more disturbed by his dad’s retelling of that strange night at Loretta’s house. It wasn’t the kind of self-discovery that you could learn and go on with your day like it was nothing. This was life-altering, mind-blowing, earth-shattering information that some people might never rec
over from.

  We’d agreed to meet Carl and Katrina at the police station at 8:00, and my partner was unaccounted for. It seemed like a legit enough reason to walk across the hall and knock on the door.

  I gave a casual knock.

  “Logan? Are you there? We gotta go soon, dude.”

  Nothing. I tried knocking a little harder.

  “Logan! Time to wakey wakey!”

  Still nothing. I jiggled the door handle. Locked. Damn.

  “Logan? Are you in there?”

  I saw a flash of white dart between my feet. Looking down, I saw it was a key card to his room. I scooped it up and let myself in, nearly tripping over Lafayette, who’d been sitting on the other side of the door.

  “I was napping, you know.”

  “Aww, sorry for waking you up, little guy,” I said, looking all around the room. It was obvious he wasn’t there. “Where’s Logan?”

  “How lovely to see you too, Elena,” Lafayette said, glaring at me in disapproval.

  “Hey, I’m sorry for waking you up, but this is pretty important,” I told him. “He got some pretty huge news earlier today and now he’s not answering his phone. I don’t know where he is.”

  Lafayette’s little pointed ears swiveled around as if trying to pick up a wifi signal.

  “He said he was going to get me sushi.” He started to lick his paw and wash his face.

  A wave of relief washed over me. That sounded like something Logan would do . . . especially if he was going to leave Lafayette alone all night while we evicted a poltergeist. I walked over to the window and saw the Tahoe wasn’t where we’d left it earlier. The spot was still vacant, so he couldn’t have been gone that long. He’d probably be back any minute.

  “That was nice of him to get you sushi. How long has he been gone?”

  Lafayette kept washing his face.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s pretty straightforward . . . I’m just curious about what time he left.”

  Lafayette began to lick around every one of his tiny toes. Every. Single. One.

  “Have you ever stopped to consider what is time to a cat?”

  “No.” Dammit. He was in a mood, and I didn’t have time for his bullshit.

  “It’s either daytime or nighttime. It’s either warm or cold or just right. Time can be mealtime, snuggle time, nap time, or time to leave me alone . . . except for a scritchy-scratch under the chin whenever you walk by.”

  “Okay . . . ” I said slowly. “Well, do you know if Logan had time to snuggle you or give you a tummy rub before he left?”

  “No.”

  A long, fluffy tail swished back and forth . . . back and forth, clearly not wanting to cooperate with me.

  “No, he didn’t pet you, or no, you don’t remember?”

  Lafayette turned away from me and looked out the window, still swishing his tail.

  “No, he didn’t pet me. He came in, lay down, fell asleep, then woke up and left without saying a word. I told him to bring back sushi. Then I took a nap, which was rudely interrupted by some insane faerie banging at my door.”

  “This insane faerie will bring you back a nice piece of yellowtail if you tell me where Logan went.” I tried my best to look hopeful. I wasn’t above bribery.

  “He didn’t say anything when he left. Not even a goodbye scritchy-scratch under the chin,” the ornery feline complained. “It’s like I didn’t even exist. He was supposed to write down my birds before he left! I finally saw the rose-throated becard that Patrick was talking about today. I need to add it to my life list, but it’s on Logan’s phone and he’s not here.”

  “Why don’t you write it down on the hotel stationary?” I suggested. “Oh. Right. You don’t have thumbs.”

  If looks could kill, Lafayette would be an AK-47.

  “Wow,” he said in a flat voice. “That joke never gets old. Never.”

  “I know, right?” I laughed. He was not impressed.

  “I don’t understand why he won’t just get me my own phone. At least I can operate that with my nose.”

  “Probably because you’d just push it off the counter and shatter the screen,” I muttered under my breath. I noted how the catnip toys I’d brought him were scattered all over the floor after meeting the same fate. And, because Lafayette was a cat, he heard me loud and clear.

  “If you’re going to be like that, you don’t deserve my help finding Logan,” he said, and starting cleaning the base of his tail. “Why don’t you ask Patrick to help you instead?”

  “You know what? That’s a great idea!” I said, having no interest in sticking around to watch Lafayette clean his ass. “Thanks for the room key, by the way.”

  I shut the door behind me, took four steps to the right, and started knocking on the next one.

  “Hey, Johnson! You around?”

  The door eventually opened and Carl greeted me in his pants and undershirt. He grabbed his button-down shirt from the back of the chair and hurried to put it on.

  “Am I late? What time is it?”

  “Time Logan was back,” I said, inviting myself into the meticulous room. “He took off a while ago and he’s not answering his phone.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “He got some news earlier. Found out about a bunch of personal shit and took off with our car. I thought he’d be back in a couple hours, but . . . I need to borrow your car.”

  Now looking worried, Johnson’s eyes widened. He picked up his phone and sent a text. Then he slipped on his shoes, gun, and jacket before grabbing his wallet and keys.

  “We’ll find him together,” he said, ushering me into the hall, where Katrina was waiting. “But you’ll have to fill us in.”

  I looked at Katrina, then Carl, hesitating for a moment. Did I spill everything out to them or not? On one hand, they’d been trained just like every other agent in the FBI. But they were from accounting. They were looking for any excuse to shut down my department. On the other hand, if I had to choose between my partner or my division, I was on Team Hawthorne all the way. If I wanted the extra help in finding Logan, I’d have to be honest about everything.

  “You said you were a believer now, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too,” said Katrina.

  “Great. I’ll fill you in on all the details in the car.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Carl said, driving through downtown Mariposa. “You’re a faerie and Logan didn’t know he was a faerie, but now—”

  “Logan’s not a faerie,” I explained. “All faeries are fae but not all fae are faeries. So I’m a faerie, but Logan’s a different kind of fae.”

  “That’s not confusing at all,” Katrina said from the back seat. “And you’re saying he just found out about this recently?”

  “Yeah. Like, a few hours ago.”

  Carl’s foot was on the accelerator, but his eyes were on me.

  “What?”

  “It’s just like I said. And keep your eyes on the road!”

  He returned his gaze to the wind shield just as a stop light turned red a few car lengths away. He screeched to a halt and we both flew forward, only restrained by our seat belts.

  “I . . . I . . . I don't even know what to say,” he said, his face creasing up in confusion.

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just believe me. Logan is fucked if he goes into the The Hollows on his own looking for his parents. It’s one thing having a dream. It’s another thing entirely to seek out the realms of the fae. They won’t exactly appreciate it.”

  “The fae won’t appreciate it?”

  “No, we’re a very fickle people and we anger easily. Everything has to be on our terms or we throw things.”

  “You’ve just described a cat,” said Johnson.

  “Or yourself,” Katrina jabbed.

  “Good one,” I said, genuinely impressed that she had the guts to go there with me. �
�Anyway, I think I have an idea where he went—or at least, who he went to see.”

  Katrina raised her bushy eyebrows.

  “Who does Logan know in Mariposa?”

  “We met a hypnotherapist earlier today,” I said. “Patrick Hernandez. He’s the one who guided Logan into the place where he discovered his true identity. I’ve got a hunch that it’ll be Patrick who wants to take him back to learn more.”

  21

  Logan

  “Sanne, what is all the fuss—”

  The tall, imposing man froze in the doorway. Just like his wife, Lord Tierstand was almost too big a presence to focus on. It felt as though my eyes were burning at the sight of him. An orange glow was ablaze all around him until it began to dissipate and his face came into view.

  The first thing that struck me was how regal and strong his features were. The second thing I noticed was that his features were uncannily similar to my own. The only difference was that he was older. It felt like looking into a mirror that revealed what I could be in another twenty or thirty years.

  He was looking right at me, confused by how familiar I must’ve appeared, but he knew that I wasn’t the son he’d raised. His eyes ran over my clothes, my standard issue FBI suit and shoes, the Apple watch on my wrist. There was a wariness in his eyes that bordered on hostility. That made sense. Elena had said this guy used to be a general in the fae army.

  “Who is this imposter?” he bellowed.

  “This is no imposter,” Sanne calmly explained. “This is our son.”

  “That . . . that is not our son.”

  “Niklas, listen to me!” she begged. “I’d know him in a heartbeat. A mother knows. You didn’t carry him in your womb, and you didn't listen to me all those years ago when I told you our son was gone. I know in my heart of hearts that this is our boy. Will you listen to me now?”

  Lord Tierstand relented at hearing the desperation in her voice, and moved in closer to us. His eyes never left my face as he sat beside his wife across from me.

  “Our little Niklas was taken,” said Sanne. “But he returned. He remembered us enough to find his way back to us.”