[Creepy Hollow 02.0] The Faerie Prince

by Rachel Morgan

  “And you have some of this powder left over?” I ask as Ryn enlarges his potions kit.

  “Of course. I wasn’t going to spend hours and hours in a cramped laboratory and only make enough for one person. I had to pay a lot for the ingredients, of course, but I figured it was worth it.”

  “Oh.” Now I feel awkward. “Well, just tell me how much I owe you and—”

  “Owe me? Don’t be silly, V.” He pulls out a bottle labeled Conceal. Fine gold powder sparkles within.

  “Ryn, I can’t just use up an expensive—”

  “Violet,” he says loudly. “Pretend it’s an early birthday present if it makes you feel better.”

  “It doesn’t.” I know I’ll still feel like I owe him, and I don’t want that.

  “And it’s not even that early,” he adds as he searches his potions kit for something else. “Your birthday isn’t that far away.”

  Wow. I’m surprised he remembers.

  “Okay, stand up,” Ryn says, holding the bottle in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. “We’re going to the bathroom.”

  “The bathroom?” I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t have to be naked for this, do I?”

  “Actually, yes.” I cross my arms over my chest and give him a no-way-in-hell-is-that-happening glare. “But don’t worry. I promise not to look,” he adds with a glint in his eye.

  With a sigh, I follow him to the bathroom where he’s already begun filling the tub with water. “You need to be covered entirely in this powder,” he says. “The best way to do that is dissolve it in water and submerge yourself.”

  We stand in silence as we watch the bathtub fill with water. I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what. I twist my hands together. It’s weird, standing in this small, steamy space next to Ryn. Eventually, he stops the flow of water with a small flick of his hand. “That looks like enough,” he says. “But—” he goes back into the room, then returns with his stylus and amber “—I need to know exactly how much water is in there so I know how much powder to add.”

  He kneels down and sticks his stylus into the water, then does some kind of calculation on his amber. I lean over his shoulder to get a closer look at what he’s doing, but the numbers vanish before I can get a good look. Ryn lets the bottle of powder float in the air as he tells it how much to add to the water. The bottle tilts. A thin stream of powder pours from it, turning every drop of water in the bathtub golden within seconds.

  Ryn takes hold of the bottle and puts the lid back on. “Okay, now get in.” He rises and turns toward me. Before I can move out of his way, I find myself standing inches from his bare chest. I try instinctively to take a step backward, but the curved edge of the basin is right behind me.

  I can’t move.

  Why won’t he step away?

  I don’t want to look up at his face. That would make this moment even more awkward. I focus instead on the silver trainee pendant resting against his chest. It’s flat and oval-shaped, with a clear stone set in the middle and patterns weaving around the edge of the metal. It looks just like every other trainee pendant, but I know if I turn it over I’ll see his name engraved on the back.

  Ryn clears his throat and finally steps away from me. “Um, so, you should get in now. Then memorize these words and say them in your head while you’re completely submerged. I’ll … be in the room.” He pushes the folded paper into my hands and leaves quickly, pulling the door shut behind him. I relax and start to breath normally again.

  That was weird.

  I unfold the paper and repeat the paragraph of words in my head until I know them without looking. I remove my clothes, step into the warm water, and take a deep breath before slipping beneath the surface.

  By the time I’ve completed the charm, got dressed, and partially dried my hair with hot air blown from my hands, I expect Ryn to be asleep. When I walk back into the room, though, he’s lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

  “Did the gold disappear from the water when you finished the charm?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That means it worked.”

  I join Ryn on the bed, and, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as weird as before. Maybe the warm water relaxed me. I reach over and turn my lamp off.

  “Thanks,” I say quietly to Ryn.

  “You’re welcome, V.”

  I find it surprisingly easy to fall asleep, and it’s only when I wake the next morning that I realize Ryn never put the pillow back between us.

  Seven

  “The guests have begun arriving,” Ryn says. He shuts the pool house door behind him and walks across the room to his potions kit. “Time to find a way in.”

  I poke my head around the bathroom door. “Great. Need any help?”

  “Not while you’re wearing nothing but a towel.” He stuffs a vial in his pocket and closes his potions kit. “But thanks.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “I do actually plan to put clothes on before I leave this room.”

  “Good to know.” He pauses by the door. “You have something appropriate to wear, right?”

  I roll my eyes and pull the bathroom door shut. “You don’t need to steal me a dress, if that’s what you’re asking,” I say loudly. I hear him chuckle as he leaves.

  I drop the towel and begin rummaging through my bag of clothes. I spent part of my weekend with Raven, trying to learn a few clothes casting spells. By the end of our two hour session, the black cocktail dress I’d cast—using a pair of my pants as starting material—didn’t look that bad. Raven just had to get rid of the weird long bit that trailed along the floor behind my left foot.

  I step into the slim-fitting dress and pull it up. The two pieces of the halter-neck snake around my neck and meet at a silver clasp. The shoes Raven cast for me have heels that are way too high, but I’m afraid if I try to shorten them I’ll mess them up in some way. I slip my feet into them and totter over to the mirror. I use a few makeup spells on my face and comb my fingers through my hair. I don’t bother doing anything fancy with it—this isn’t like the masquerade ball we attended at Zell’s house. Lastly, I attach a necklace of silver baubles around my neck. The baubles are hollow and large enough for the miniature versions of my bags to fit inside.

  I hear Ryn come back into the room and decide to give him a few minutes to change. I practice walking back and forth across the small bathroom. After doing this about thirty times, I can turn without wobbling.

  “You sure are taking a long time in there, Pixie Sticks,” Ryn calls.

  I quickly shrink my clothes bag before pushing the door open. “I’m ready. Did you figure out a way for us to get in?”

  Ryn looks up from tying his shoelace and, instead of answering me, lets out a long whistle. “I think you just graduated from Pixie Sticks to Sexy Pixie.”

  “Oh, bite me,” I snap as I head to the bedside table to fetch my miniature emergency and potions kits.

  “I guess I could,” he says, “but that would probably make things a little awkward between us.”

  Ignoring his comment, I conceal my three bags inside the baubles of my necklace. The chain tightens around the back of my neck with the added weight. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but I’m not going anywhere without my stuff.

  “Where’d you hide your stylus?” Ryn asks.

  “Strapped to my leg.” Along with my amber and a non-magical knife.

  He looks down. “Obviously not the leg with the slit going up it.”

  Self-conscious, I grab his arm and steer him toward the door. “The slit was not my idea. Now tell me what’s happening.”

  He shuts the door behind us and leads me around the side of the house. “I managed to catch an older woman and a young guy in the entrance hall, and I was kind enough to offer them a welcoming drink.”

  “Which I’m guessing had a little something extra added to it.”

  “Compulsion potion. The woman now thinks I’m her nephew who’s visiting her for a few days, and
you’re the young guy’s girlfriend.”

  I hold up the bottom of my dress to keep it from brushing against the damp grass. “Girlfriend. Great.”

  “What, you don’t think you can play the part?” He gives me a wink.

  “Hey, I can do whatever is required to complete this assignment. So where are these people you compelled?”

  “Waiting obediently in the driveway.”

  We reach the front of the house and Ryn lets go of my arm. “Is that him?” I ask, nodding my head in the direction of a young man leaning against a car.

  “Yes. See you inside.” Ryn heads toward an older woman examining her makeup in a small hand mirror.

  I walk carefully across the driveway toward my ‘date.’ He’s well built, with fair hair that seems a little messy. When I’m almost in front of him, he looks up. “Uh, hi,” he says. His smile is friendly, but uncertain. He has no idea who I am.

  Crap, what exactly did Ryn say to this guy? “Um, it’s me, Violet.”

  The moment I say my name, his eyes glaze over for a second. Then he pushes away from the car and reaches for my hand. “You look gorgeous, babe. Did I tell you that earlier?” He places a kiss on my temple and slips his arm around my back. I try to pretend it doesn’t freak me out to have a stranger touching me like this. And why are the Harts inviting such a young guy to their dinner party? Shouldn’t all their friends be old?

  We enter the house and my ‘boyfriend’—crap, what is his name?—steers me between the clusters of elegantly dressed people. Most of them are old, as I expected, but I spot a few younger ones. Ryn’s already found himself an attractive blonde woman to flirt with.

  “You know, you could still make a run for it if you want,” my date says. “You could always meet my parents another night.”

  His parents?

  “David!” I jump at the sound of Mrs. Hart’s voice. She hurries down the last few steps and comes toward us as fast as her loudly clicking high-heeled shoes will allow. “David, I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” She wraps her arms around him in a quick embrace, submerging us both in a cloud of strong perfume. “Did your father invite you?”

  Ah, so this is the Harts’ youngest son, the one Mr. Hart spoke to on the phone yesterday morning. I look across the room, catch Ryn’s eye, and flash him a quick thumbs up.

  “Yeah, Dad asked me to come.”

  A crease forms between Mrs. Hart’s eyebrows. “Are you in trouble again?”

  “No, Mom.”

  “But you’d tell me if there was something going on, wouldn’t you?”

  “Trust me, Mom.” He takes hold of her shoulders. “I am not in any kind of trouble. Now I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.” He puts an arm around me and nudges me forward. “This is Violet.”

  “Oh, hello.” She sweeps her gaze over my purple hair and eyes and plasters on a fake smile. “I had no idea David had a girlfriend.”

  I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say to that, so I smile and try not to look too awkward.

  “Well, I need to greet my guests,” she says to David. “Your father’s around somewhere.”

  David watches as she click-clicks away, then says, “Sorry about that. My mom’s been weird to all the girls I’ve ever brought home.” He laces his fingers between mine and leads me to the edge of the room.

  “So, there’ve been lots of girls, have there?” I try out a flirtatious smile.

  “Uh …” He laughs guiltily. “Not that many.” He runs his fingers up and down the bare skin on my back—definitely a mistake to cast a dress that scoops so low—while I do my best not to shiver.

  “So, why did your father ask you to come tonight? Did he need to talk to you about something important?”

  “Oh, you know, just some stuff he’s going through at the moment. You wouldn’t be interested.”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Try me.”

  He looks away, laughing quietly. “It’s pretty insane stuff. I don’t think you’d actually believe me.”

  Oh yes I will. “I think you’ll find I’m quite open-minded,” I say, giving him my most enticing smile.

  He turns to me, searching my face. He’s going to tell me, I know he is. “Um … no, I shouldn’t. It isn’t my place to—”

  “David, thanks for coming.” Mr. Hart appears out of nowhere and grasps his son’s hand. He pulls him into a brief hug, then steps back. “I need to show you something.” He glances at me, but shows no sign that he recognizes me from yesterday morning. “Uh, can we talk in private?”

  “Of course.” David’s hand slides away from my back. “You don’t mind, do you, babe? I won’t be long.”

  “Sure, okay.” Of course, if I actually was his girlfriend, I would mind being left alone, but perhaps this way I can listen in on their conversation.

  I take note of the direction they’re going in, then hurry across the room to Ryn. My feet wobble in their too-high heels, and I catch onto the arm of an older man for balance. “Oops, sorry.” I give him an embarrassed laugh before continuing on my way. Ryn is standing in a corner, caressing the cheek of the blonde woman. It looks like he’s leaning in for a kiss. I suppress an eye roll and grab his arm. “Come, we need to go.”

  “Hey!” Miss Blondie looks extremely put out. “We were—”

  “Trust me, you’re not missing anything,” I tell her as I pull Ryn away.

  “Trust you?” Ryn looks sideways at me. “How exactly would you know if she’s missing anything or not?”

  “I may have been six years old, but I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Ah, yes.” He nods. “Our first and only kiss. Well, you’ll have to trust me when I say my kissing skills have improved since then.”

  “Whatever. Mr. Hart and his son are about to have a private discussion, and I’m pretty sure we need to hear it.” I let go of Ryn’s arm as we pass through another room of chattering, sophisticated people.

  “I see you were getting your flirt on with Mr. Hart, Jr.,” Ryn says. He lifts a glass of something bubbly from the tray of a passing waiter and takes a sip before placing the glass on a low table.

  “At least I was flirting with someone connected to our assignment. And what are you doing drinking human alcohol? You know what that stuff does to us.”

  “It was just one sip. You know it takes at least four to get a faerie drunk.”

  “Wonderful. My assignment partner is a quarter of the way to being drunk.” We turn into a hallway just in time to see Mr. Hart opening the door of his study. He ushers his son inside, then shuts the door. “Okay, we need to open a peephole into that room and find out what’s going on.”

  Instead of replying, Ryn stares over my shoulder. His expression is a mixture of confusion and horror.

  “What is it?” I start to look behind me, but he grabs my shoulders.

  “Nothing!” His grip prevents me from turning. “I thought I recognized someone, but I was wrong.”

  I pull away from him and look back down the hallway, but whoever was there is now gone. I turn back to him with a frown. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you’re suspicious by nature?” He laughs in a way that doesn’t seem natural. “Remember Cecy?”

  “Of course I remember Cecy.” She was a friend of ours when we were younger. Her parents were several centuries older than ours, and when they retired from the Guild they decided they didn’t want their only child to have a guardian’s life. They moved away from Creepy Hollow around about the time of my father’s death.

  “Yeah, well, I thought I saw someone who looks like her. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get into that study.”

  Crap, the study! Who knows what we’ve missed already. Ryn writes on the hallway wall with his stylus, and I hold onto his arm as we walk through the doorway. “Did I tell you about the time Zell followed me through the faerie paths without having any contact with me?”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” Ryn says as darkness envelops us.

  “
I know. He couldn’t possibly have known what destination I was thinking about. So either we were taught the wrong thing about faerie paths, or Zell knows some special way of—”

  “Shh, I’m trying to concentrate.”

  I shut my mouth, and Ryn opens two peepholes on the bookshelf side of Mr. Hart’s study.

  “Are you sure you’re not having some kind of mental breakdown, Dad?” David is leaning against the desk, while Mr. Hart paces across the study’s floor.

  “You saw this metal thing behind my ear, didn’t you?” Mr. Hart pauses in his pacing to point at his neck. “How could a mental breakdown produce that?”

  “Well, okay, I guess it can’t. But perhaps you had a little operation you forgot to tell me about. Maybe it’s some new kind of hearing aid you don’t remember having put in.”

  “Rubbish.” Mr. Hart continues pacing. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory. And why are you arguing with me now? You seemed to believe me when we spoke on the phone.”

  David scratches his head. “I was trying to calm you down.”

  “Calm me down?” Mr. Hart’s fists are balled at his sides, and a vein throbs visibly on his forehead.

  “You’re asking me to believe in faeries, Dad.” David throws his hands up. “Can you see the problem here?”

  “The problem isn’t believing in them, David. I’ve known about them for years. Ever since we moved into this house.”

  “What?” David’s brow furrows. “You didn’t mention that on the phone.”

  “Because that wasn’t the point! The point is that my life is being threatened. My family members are being threatened.”

  “By fictional characters,” David mutters.

  Mr. Hart ignores his son’s comment and collapses into an armchair in the corner. “All these years of throwing the best parties,” he says wistfully. “The magnificent food and drinks, the out-of-this-world entertainment.” He shakes his head. “It’s finally come back to bite me in the ass.”