Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  “What do you want to do now?” Katrina asked. “I'm out of my league with this paranormal stuff. You and Patrick are the only people who have any idea what’s going on.”

  “I'm not even sure I know what’s going on,” I admitted. I sat down on the short staircase that led to Patrick’s back door. I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. But although the tears were stinging my eyes, I refused to let them fall. I needed to be strong, not fall to pieces.

  If I was back in the DC area, I’d go into a forest and find a big ash tree or an oak and try to crawl through to the other side. That was the only way I knew how to physically get into The Hollows. Disappearing on a sofa at a hypnotherapist’s home wasn’t my forte. It told me that Logan must’ve had some pretty powerful bloodlines.

  But we were in the middle of a desert. The pine trees were thin, there weren’t any huge ash trees or oaks out here. Just tumbleweeds sprinkled with cactus every now and again. I hated the idea of crawling through rocky sand filled with rattlesnakes and scorpions. I mean . . . I’d do it for Logan, but damn. I really needed a better option.

  I looked up at the mountain that loomed nearby. Mountains were places of powerful magic. Mountains were also known for sometimes having caves nearby.

  “I think I know what to do,” I said, leaping to my feet. I looked way past the end of the street, up to where the houses stopped creeping up the base of the mountain. Beneath the moonlight, the mountain range looked like it had been painted black.

  “We need to go out there and get onto the mountain,” I said to Patrick. “I need to find a way in.”

  “In?”

  “Yep. I don’t know how else to get back home and find Logan. I could really use your help.”

  “I’m not too sure what I can do, but I’m here for you. I’ll try my best.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a grateful smile. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Ten minutes later the four of us were in Carl’s rental car, headed away from the residential area and into the dark. Patrick was with Katrina in the back, pressing his fingers to his temples with his eyes closed.

  “I can feel Logan’s energy,” he said. “But it’s weak. He’s not near here.”

  “Is his energy still in Mariposa?” I asked, turning around in the passenger seat to face him. “Or at least in the area?”

  “I think so. Drive a little slower, would you, Carl? Let’s see if my impression of Logan moves.”

  Carl glanced at me from the driver’s seat.

  “I’m just supposed to . . . drive up the mountain?”

  “Yes,” Patrick said. “There’s a bunch of old mining roads. You’ll know them when you see them.”

  “Okay . . . ”

  We drove down an old county road that wound its way up the mountain.

  “Picking anything up?” I asked Patrick.

  “Nope. Nothing. Wait—maybe something? No . . . sorry. My mistake.”

  Carl sighed and continued to creep along until we came to a fork in the road.

  “Which way?” he asked Patrick who was still sat with his eyes clenched tight and his fingertips pressing into his temples.

  “I’m feeling something, but it’s really vague,” he said. “An impression, maybe? A feeling that . . . “

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked out the window to his right down into the dark shadows of the mountain.

  “That way!” Patrick all but screamed as he pointed to the right. “Logan’s definitely that way!”

  23

  Logan

  I stood at the edge of the Maettodin Grotto and looked out. It felt as though I was standing behind a shimmering silver curtain of mist. Pushing my hand out beyond the entrance of the cave, I felt the watery fog envelope my fingers. Then, like a kid terrified of demons under their bed, I yanked my hand back into the cave again.

  It was impossible to stop shivering, and each second brought another level of cold. Then there was the atmosphere. Dark, ancient, full of lives lived, yet there appeared to be no life at all. The deep sacred feeling of the cave was like standing among thousands of generations of my ancestors . . . and all their eyes were on me.

  Part of this felt comforting. I felt protected, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't unnerving. The heavy feeling of being watched by a millennia’s worth of dead relatives was downright oppressive. I felt the constant urge to keep looking over my shoulder to see if anyone was staring at me. I could almost feel the countless pairs of eyes fixed on the back of my head. But every time I turned around, there was nothing but darkness.

  I didn't have a clue how long that darkness went on for. From where I stood, the cave appeared as deep as it was old. It looked like it could’ve traveled for miles and miles into the deep hillside or mountain, or wherever we were. Part of my brain was filled with an almost childlike sense of wonder as I considered exploring this darkness. Luckily, the mature adult part of my brain told me to stay away. Down there was full of the unknown . . . full of sacred entities and things I wouldn't understand. Things I might not even want to understand.

  The only place I felt relatively comfortable was at the little stone circle near the entrance. I took a seat on a boulder and looked out at the mist, shivering again. I rolled the hag stone around between my fingers, wondering what to do with it. The stone itself was light gray and porous, and so old that the edges had been corroded by centuries of being handled.

  As I held the stone, I could feel heat from it, a power, a sense that it was as old as the cave and had as many stories to tell. I wondered how many curious fingers had caught a glimpse into another world while using this thing. Lifting it up to my face, I brought it up to my eye to see if anything lay in front of me. What if someone or something was in the cave with me? A spirit? A monster? A creature so hideous it would drive me insane?

  But that youthful curiosity came back to me again, daring me to use the hag stone. I pressed it to my eye and peered through it. A sense of relief washed through me when I saw there was nothing lurking in the cave with me. The same thing happened when I searched behind me as well.

  Maybe I was totally alone and not being watched by ancient invisible eyes. Maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me. Outside, the mist began to darken as night took hold. I was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but it was too cold to get comfortable on the hard ground. But that didn’t make sense . . .

  I was already asleep . . . wasn't I? This was just a dream . . . wasn’t it? But how could it be? It felt real. I was really here.

  Or was I?

  I didn't know what was going on any more. All I knew for sure was that I was sitting in a cave, holding some kind of magic stone. It didn’t seem like a great plan.

  I gripped it tighter, slipped off the boulder I was sitting on and curled up on the floor.

  "What the fuck am I going to do?" I asked myself. "Leave the cave? But go where? I'm safe in here . . . But I can't stay here forever."

  The truth was that the cold was getting worse. I was shivering so hard that my teeth were chattering. I was shivering so much it began to hurt my spine.

  I can't keep going on like this, I thought. I need to get out of this fucking cave. I need to get back to the hotel . . . and back to Elena.

  But as I tried to lift myself up, I discovered that I was too tired to balance on my legs. Sleep started to pull me down like a thick, heavy blanket, until the thoughts gradually began to die down. The cold penetrated everything—my clothes, my bones, my brain. I drifted off to sleep, too tired to care any more.

  I woke up to the sound of birds chirping in the middle of the night. I opened my eyes, noticing a deep pain in my neck and back from falling asleep on hard, damp rocks.

  But what hurt the most was the screeching of a bird amidst the dark blue of the sky just beyond the mouth of the cave. It was somewhere between midnight and dawn . . . maybe 4:30am, but I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why any birds were making so much racket at this ungodly hour.

  I stood up slowly,
brushing off my wrinkled clothes. The mist was lifting before my eyes, taking with it the endless darkness and the sense of oppression that went with it. Even though my body hurt like hell, my heart felt light. Daylight was on its way. Maybe that’s why the birds were singing so loud.

  Rubbing my neck, I blinked a few times and looked around. The cave didn’t look anything like how I remembered. When I’d entered, I thought it was the size of an airplane hangar. Now it looked like a modest two-car garage. The ancient drawings and writings had completely disappeared, too. There was no trace of the golden glitter once sprinkled through the darkness, and the thick, heavy mist was long gone. The oppressive atmosphere had become light and airy. The sense of wonder I’d had when I’d first gone there was overshadowed by my constant yawning and the stiffness in my neck and back. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the circle of small boulders. Those were still exactly where I expected them to be.

  I rubbed my face and started to crawl over the dry, uneven stones until I was out in the open air. I could see the town of Mariposa in the distance. I was only a few miles from the more expensive houses that were built up into the base of the mountain.

  I'm not in dream world any more, I thought, rubbing my eyes as I stepped into the morning sunlight.

  Then I remembered the night before . . . how I’d gone to Patrick’s and asked him to help me try and find my biological parents. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on his couch.

  So how the fuck did I end up here, in a cave outside of town?

  Had I traveled here in my sleep through my dreams? Was it astral projection? Was my body still lying stretched out in Patrick’s living room? Or was that part of this whole elaborate dream?

  I started walking towards town, and thrust my hand into my pocket in search of my phone. My fingers brushed up against something hard and round alongside it.

  Pulling it out, I examined the hag stone’s porous texture against my fingertips, then I looked down and saw the light gray color and the hole in the center that made a perfect fit for my eye.

  I slipped it back into my pocket for safekeeping and took out my phone. The battery was completely dead. I guess I was hoofing it all the way back to the hotel, unless I wanted to stop and beg a stranger for a ride.

  Maybe it was for the best. I had so much information to process. It felt as though the fabric of my reality had been torn apart. As though nothing was truly real. It was the same way I’d felt when Elena showed me firsthand that all things paranormal were real. Back then it had felt like my brain had melted. But somehow, this was so much more intense than that.

  This was personal.

  Until today, maybe not until this very moment, I knew my place in the universe. I never questioned it; special agent by twenty-four, senior special agent by thirty. Married at thirty-two, first kid by thirty-four, second by thirty-eight, and middle management at the bureau by the time I reached forty.

  Now I had to come to terms with the fact that everything I knew was all wrong. I wasn’t the person I thought I was. I wasn’t even human.

  I was fae.

  And not just any fae, but the son of a noble family of elves with ancient bloodlines. The only life I’d ever known wasn’t real. It was a lie. At least, it was for me. It was real for the guy I’d found playing the harp underground. The parents I knew and loved as a kid weren’t really my parents. They were his. Nothing about my childhood belonged to me. It was his. The house I lived in, my old dirt bike, all my toys and video games, the school I went to, and all the memories that went along with it. All of that belonged to someone else.

  The real Logan.

  24

  Elena

  “You guys, I’m going to have to go back to the car,” Katrina groaned. “These shoes aren’t meant for hiking. I’ve got at least two or three blisters.”

  I put my flashlight away and looked at her. The sun was just about to poke over the horizon and I didn’t need it anymore.

  “I can help with that, if you want,” I said, walking over to her. “But I’ll have to touch your foot.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, eyeing me curiously.

  “Just trust me on this,” I said, and motioned for her to take off her shoe. She leaned against a small boulder and pulled off one of her flats. “You don’t have to take off your socks unless you really want to,” I added. I took her foot into my hand and focused my energy and strength on it, similar to what I’d done for Carl after his close encounter with a ghosty kind.

  “It tickles,” Katrina said, her foot twitching in my hands, but I refused to let go.

  “That’s a good sign. It means the blisters are healing.”

  I sent my little ball of energy through her sock and into the heel of her foot. When I released her, I saw her eyes brighten.

  “My foot feels brand new! What did you do?”

  “Magic,” I shrugged. “But if I do too much more, I’m gonna need some food. It takes a lot out of me . . . although blisters aren’t a big deal.”

  Above us, the sun was rising, casting a reddish golden hue across the sky. It illuminated each drop of dew on every leaf, branch and blade of grass. But it also highlighted each of our exhausted faces. Patrick's in particular looked especially worse for wear.

  “This is such a strange place,” he sighed, watching the early morning sunbeams as they spilled across the desert. “It's beautiful, but it's also giving me a weird sensation.”

  “Haven’t you been out here before?” I asked. “You said you’ve lived here for over twenty years.”

  Patrick wrinkled his nose.

  “That doesn’t mean I go hiking out here. I love the desert. I just love it from the comfort of air-conditioning.”

  He stopped walking and touched his fingers lightly to his temple. We all grouped around him, eager to hear what he was feeling.

  “I'm finding it hard to explain,” he said. “But I get this feeling that there’s some sort of gateway out here . . . some sort of rip in the fabric of this dimension.”

  “That tracks,” I said. “Mountains hold a lot of magical energy inside of them.”

  Carl, Katrina, and Patrick all looked at me for a second as if I'd gone slightly bonkers, but they couldn’t help it. What did they know?

  “I'm completely out of my depth,” Patrick admitted. “I haven't ever experienced a feeling like this before. It's like there’s something inside the earth that’s ancient. More than ancient. It feels like it’s older than time.”

  He wasn’t sure what to make of what he was experiencing, although Carl and Katrina paid close attention, enrapt in all he had to say. A new and exciting world had recently been revealed to them, and I was impressed that they were taking notes.

  “You need to home in on it,” I said to him. “The only way I can get to Logan is if we find a faerie tree or a ring. I need you to be my eyes.”

  “I’m not a damn drone, Elena,” he snapped, clearly at the end of his patience.

  “I don’t mean literally be my eyes. Can you go into more detail about whatever it is that you’re picking up on?”

  “I suppose . . . ” he mumbled, trailing off. “I just . . . I don't understand exactly what it is I'm seeing.” He lowered his hand and shook his head. “I'm so sorry. I really am out of my league. A faerie tree? A ring? I wish I could help you find these things, but I can't. Trees don’t really grow out here on the mountain, anyway. They need too much water. That’s why you only see them in town.”

  “Well, there’s got to be something around here for you to be picking up these vibes, right?” I insisted.

  And that's what struck me as being the oddest thing of all. Usually it took only minutes, sometimes seconds, for me to walk into a forest and find a suitable entrance into The Hollows. A small cluster of mushrooms made into a perfect circle like a portal, a large oak tree with a moss-covered arch that functioned just like a door. But no . . . there was nothing to fit that description around here. This barren desert was an ano
maly for me.

  “Hang on a minute—something’s not adding up,” said Carl. “Elena, you’re looking for a gateway right?”

  “Right.”

  “And Patrick, you sense a gateway nearby, right?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “Okay, so aren't they both the same thing?”

  “Well, Elena’s looking for trees or mushrooms, and I’m not seeing any of that,” said Patrick. “I'm seeing darkness, solid rock, and a circle of boulders. I feel like I’m trapped inside the earth, or maybe under it. I'm getting all sorts of mineral flavors on my tongue. I’m almost wondering if it’s some sort of cave.”

  “You mean like that one over there?” Katrina asked, and pointed to the boulder where she’d taken off her shoe just moments ago. She pointed at a crevice in the base of the mountain and we all followed her gaze. Sure enough, it looked like there was a dark tear in the stone that went on forever.

  “Holy shit! That definitely looks like it might be a cave!” said Carl, squinting into the distance. “I’ll be damned, Patrick! Looks like you were right. Nice work, Katrina.”

  With her newly healed feet and a renewed sense of excitement, Katrina jogged over to the hole in the mountain before turning around and waving at us.

  “Yeah we got a cave here!” she yelled. “It's pretty cool. Come take a look!”

  We jogged after her, and after a few moments, we reached the cave entrance to find her inside looking around. Just like Patrick had described, a cool scent of mineral deposits filled our noses.

  “Hey, look at this,” said Carl. “There's a circle of stones that look like they were put there on purpose.”

  Sitting down on the largest of the boulders, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a bottle of water and took a long gulp.

  “This is a nice spot, ain't it?” he said.