Labyrinth

by Rachel Morgan

  “Your textbooks sound far more interesting than mine.”

  I take the metal disc from him and turn it over and over in my hands. If this disc belonged to Angelica then I can use it to find her. Nate is preoccupied, poring over the brittle pages of the book, so I close my eyes without saying anything to him. I run my fingers over the pattern and send my mind out, searching, probing, feeling for the person attached to this item.

  Abruptly, I feel a rushing sensation. Something pulling at my mind, tugging irresistibly. I feel trapped. Smothered. Faces and colors swirl and flash, blinding me, dizzying me. I can’t get out.

  Vi! Violet!

  My eyes spring open. I see clothes hanging above me, and Nate’s anxious expression. “You just suddenly fell over,” he says. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, I don’t know. That was weird.” I push myself up into a sitting position. The bottom of a coat brushes my shoulder. “Well, this disc thing definitely doesn’t belong to your mother.”

  “Wait, you were trying to find her? And you didn’t tell me?”

  I shrug. “You were busy looking at the book.”

  “Vi!” He tries to remain angry, but curiosity clearly gets the better of him. “Okay, so who does it belong to?”

  “Too many people.”

  Nate frowns. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I saw lots and lots of faces, so I’m assuming the disc has belonged to many different people over the years.”

  Nate stares at me a moment before saying, “This ability of yours doesn’t work very well, does it? I mean, what if someone else owned this book before my mother?”

  “Well, let’s hope she had it long enough to truly make it her own.”

  “Is that how your ability works? How long would she have—”

  “Shh!” I reach across the boxes and clamp my hand over his mouth. “I heard something,” I whisper.

  I lower my hand, listening carefully. From the room below us comes a thump. My first thought is that Drake and Zell have come for Nate, but then I remember that Flint put protective spells around the house. Nate rises and goes to the door of the closet. I’ve just reached into the air and pulled out a knife when a voice calls, “Nate? I got your favorite for dinner.”

  Nate dashes back to the pile we’ve left on the floor. “Jeez, what is she doing home already?” He grabs Angelica’s book, tucks it under his arm, and begins piling the boxes on top of each other. I discard my knife into the air and hastily send the boxes and files back to the top of the closet. I stuff the griffin disc in my pocket and run out of the room after Nate.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he shouts down the stairs. “Looking forward to it.” Then he pushes me back into his room and shuts the door. “You should probably go,” he says to me.

  “What, you don’t want me meeting your mom?” I tease.

  “Well, uh, maybe not looking like that.” He drops Angelica’s book onto one of his couches.

  I put my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

  “Come on, Vi,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You just need to add your boots and you’re like the forest version of Lara Croft.”

  “Excuse me? Lara who?”

  “I mean, it’s really sexy and everything.” He pulls me closer and slips his arms around my waist. “But it’s not exactly the way I’d want you to meet my mom.”

  “I can glamour myself in something pretty,” I suggest. I’m only joking though. I’m terrified at the thought of meeting his parents; it would be taking my betrayal of the Guild even further to reveal myself to another two humans.

  “How about you glamour yourself in something pretty just for me?” whispers Nate, his lips at my neck. A shiver races up and down my arms. I don’t bother reminding him that he can’t see glamours.

  A knock at the door causes him to jump away from me. “Uh, hang on,” he says to the door. “Just getting changed.” He turns back to me. Go, already, he mouths.

  I can’t help giggling at how rattled he is. “You know she can’t see or hear me, right?”

  “Yeah, but I can,” he whispers.

  “Fine,” I say, pretending to pout. I fetch my stylus from Nate’s bed just as my pocket tingles against my skin. I squeeze my hand past the metal disc to reach my amber. It’s a message from Tora.

  Hope you’re not sulking. Come over for dinner tonight.

  “I have to go anyway,” I tell Nate, holding up the amber message as proof. I turn and scribble across his wall with my stylus. A doorway to the faerie paths materializes, but before I can step through, Nate grabs my arm. He spins me around and presses his mouth to mine. I melt against him, my eyes closing. The world disappears, and it’s just the two of us, my hands rising to caress his face, his fingers sliding down to the small of my back, pressing me closer to him. My head spins, sounds disappear, and I feel weightless.

  Nate pulls away from me. “Now you can go,” he says with a wink, pushing me gently backward through the doorway. Remarkably, I manage to direct the faerie paths back to my kitchen without getting lost in my own giddiness. My legs still feel a little bit like liquid though, and I have to grab onto the table as I step into the kitchen. Filigree deigns to raise his head from the couch before deciding to ignore me. I’m fine with that. I’d like to savor this floaty feeling without someone reminding me to feel guilty. I’m about to go upstairs and flop onto my bed when I remember the griffin disc in my pocket. Curiosity and floatiness battle it out in my head for a few moments before curiosity finally wins.

  I cross the sitting room and enter the study that once belonged to my parents. Their books still line many of the shelves, but there’s a small section that belongs to me. In my memory, the griffin symbol is associated with studying, and the only things I’ve ever studied are Guild-prescribed textbooks.

  I sit down on the floor in front of the shelf of books that belong to me. I search the spines. Nothing. I pull all the books from the shelf and flick through the pictures. Still nothing. By the time I have to leave for Tora’s house, I’m no closer to locating a griffin with a serpent tail.

  With a sigh and a flick of my hand, I send the books back through the air. They slam into the bookshelf , jostling to find a space in line. Oops. Guess I overdid the magic a little.

  *

  The faerie paths deposit me directly outside Tora’s tree. I take a step closer, lean forward, and blow gently against the bark. Gold dust rises, revealing a door knocker. I slip my hand around it and knock three times. After only a moment, a portion of the tree ripples and disappears. Flint stands in the doorway.

  “Have you been roped in as part of the cheering up committee?” I ask.

  Tora’s blonde and green head appears over her brother’s shoulder. “I thought I’d need extra help pulling you from the depths of despair.” She looks me up and down. “But, surprisingly, you seem fine.”

  I shrug as I step past them into the house. “I’m dealing with it.” And I am. By sneaking off to visit the human boy who got me suspended in the first place.

  Raven, Flint’s wife, crosses the sitting room with a tray of ladyfair blossoms balanced in one hand. “Oh, oops, I forgot your dress,” I say to Raven as she hugs me with one arm. Her hair—magenta strands mingling with dark brown—smells like roses. Over her shoulder I see Tora rush back to the kitchen to deal with something that’s started emitting smoke.

  “No problem,” says Raven. She sets the tray of spindly pink flowers down on a low table. “You should keep it. It’ll bring your collection of dresses to a grand total of one.”

  “Thanks, Raven, but you know I don’t do dresses. Can you imagine me trying to fight in one?”

  “I have complete faith in your abilities, Vi,” says Raven. Flint pulls her down onto the couch beside him, then grabs a fistful of blossoms from the tray. “You could probably wrap yourself in a curtain and still take down a whole horde of goblins.” She takes a blossom from Flint’s hand and adds, “You’re ranked top of your year, aren’t you?�
��

  I sink down into the squishiest chair in the room. “Probably not anymore.” The thought causes something inside me to ache. My lifelong dream has slipped from my grasp. “Tora’s not allowed to tell me the rankings now that we’re so close to graduation. It’s meant to be a surprise at the ceremony.” I remove a blossom from the tray, bite off the end, and suck out the sweet nectar. It’s like honey, but with more of a citrus flavor.

  “She should tell you anyway,” says Flint, dropping his empty blossoms back on the tray. “My mentor told me back when I finished training, and you and Tora are practically family. It should be a crime for her to keep information like that from you.”

  It’s true. We are like family. I lived with Tora for almost a year after my father died. I had no other relatives in Creepy Hollow, and Tora didn’t want me to be alone. It was strange at first, living with my mentor, but we’re so close in age she ended up feeling more like a bossy older sister.

  Suddenly, I remember where I’ve seen the griffin symbol: in Tora’s library. The library I spent hours studying in while I lived here.

  “Actually, Flint, it’s a crime for me to share information like that,” says Tora from the kitchen doorway. “Something your sleazy mentor knew.”

  Flint looks like he’s about to protest at the word ‘sleazy’, but I interrupt. “I’m just going to use the bathing room.”

  They barely notice as I leave the room. I hurry to the library and close the door behind me. The walls are covered with books from floor to ceiling, but the one I’m looking for should be near the desk. A shelf I could have easily stared at when I should have been studying.

  I scan the spines of the books—and there it is! The griffin with the serpent tail that curls up and forms a circle around the legendary creature. I pull it from the shelf, blowing a rainbow-colored cobweb off the top. The A to Z of Halflings Throughout History. It sounds almost like a children’s book. Sitting down at the desk, I flip the book open. The symbol must be mentioned inside if it’s important enough to be on the cover. I turn to the contents page. Yes! I silently thank the genius who laid this book out. The contents page has a list of names, in alphabetical order, and beside each name is a picture. I search for the griffin and find it beside the name Tharros Mizreth.

  I know that name. Everyone does. But my fumbling fingers turn to the relevant page anyway.

  Possibly the most dangerous of all halflings in the history of the fae, Tharros Mizreth possessed power unequaled by anyone both before and since his time. While many halflings are unable to control their magic, Tharros had complete command of his abilities from an early age. His greatest desire was for the fae realm to no longer be hidden, and his attempts to control parts of both the human and fae worlds resulted in the death of many.

  He chose for himself the image of a griffin, traditionally a symbol of power and majesty, adding to it a serpent in the place of the griffin’s tail. While expert opinions differ as to the meaning of the serpent, the most popular interpretation involves the snake that Tharros conjured to kill his human father.

  Tharros was born and raised in the fae realm in—

  I close the book and lean back in the chair. I know most of Tharros’s life story from history lessons I had to sit through when I was younger, but I’ve never heard about the griffin symbol or the snake that killed Tharros’s father. I pull the disc out of my pocket and trace my fingers across the pattern. This is a symbol of the most dangerous halfling our world has ever known. How on earth did Angelica end up with it? Could she possibly be related to him? Half of his family tree would be human, after all.

  I stand and return the book to its shelf. I run both hands through my hair, then lean on the desk. Perhaps it’s a bad idea to go looking for Angelica. If some Underground faerie—okay, so I’m not a hundred percent sure, but Zell seems like the Underground type—is after her, she’s probably mixed up in something dangerous.

  “Vi?” I look up to see Raven standing in the doorway. I didn’t even hear the door open. “Vi, honey,” she says warily, as though talking to a dangerous animal. “What are you doing in here? We were getting worried about you.”

  “Um, I just . . .” Crap. I just what? “I . . . I started getting upset. About the suspension. And I needed a few moments to gather myself.” Gather myself? Who says that?

  “Okay, well, are you sufficiently gathered? Because dinner’s ready.”

  “Yes. Coming.” I slip the disc back into my pocket. I point a finger at the glass ball suspended from the ceiling, but instead of simply extinguishing the flame within it, I manage to explode the whole thing.

  “Um . . . oops?” I say.

  “Okay, let’s not tell Tora about that,” says Raven, pulling me out of the room before I can cause any more damage. “I’ll fix it later.”

  I follow her to the table where Tora and Flint are waiting. I sit down and look at my plate. There are many things Tora is good at; sadly, preparing food is not one of them. Fortunately, I’m too preoccupied with what I’ve just discovered about the disc to really notice the charred flavor of the food.

  I make it all the way to dessert—which, thankfully, is a mound of recognizable fruit—before Tora drags me into the conversation. “So, Vi. Flint shared an interesting piece of information with me earlier.” I stare blankly at her. “An interesting piece of information involving a certain human boy,” she adds.

  My barely civil conversation with Ryn comes flooding to the forefront of my mind. “You’re not the only one Flint shared that information with,” I grumble. Flint looks up and meets my glare. “Since when do you gossip with Ryn?” I ask.

  Flint chews and swallows. “Ryn? That boy you’ve been feuding with forever?”

  “It’s not a feud, Flint. It’s a mutual dislike.” I separate the blood red segments of a citrullamyn. “A very intense mutual dislike.”

  Raven turns to her husband. “And you told this boy that Vi kissed her assignment?” she demands.

  “Of course not,” says Flint. Raven crosses her arms, and he adds, “I swear!”

  “Ryn must have overheard,” says Tora. “I remember him coming out of Bran’s office while you and I were talking.”

  “Great. Thanks a lot, guys.” I stab a segment with my knife. “Ryn’s never going to let me live this down.”

  “I think it’s sweet, actually,” says Raven. “The kiss, not the gossip. Was it your first, Vi?”

  “I don’t think it counts when you’re six years old, so yes.”

  Raven sighs and puts a hand to her chest. “How tragic that you had to make him forget.”

  “Did Flint not tell you the part where I shoved him halfway across the garden?” I ask, trying to force down the guilt that rises like bile in my throat.

  “Honestly, Vi, is there not a single romantic bone in your body?” asks Raven.

  “I guess not,” I lie, popping a piece of the dripping red citrullamyn into my mouth. Please, please stop talking about this.

  “Well, if it had been me,” continues Raven, “I might have been tempted to throw that Forget potion away and fling myself right back at that boy. I mean, a first kiss is something special.”

  Flint leans one elbow on the table and stares at his wife. “Since when do you have fantasies of flinging yourself at human boys?”

  “They’re not fantasies, dear. I’m just saying that if—”

  “Vi would never do that,” Tora says, interrupting them both. “She’s far too committed to her training. She wouldn’t risk everything she’s worked so hard for over a mere boy.”

  “And I wonder who she learned that from,” says Flint. “Could it possibly be her work-obsessed mentor who hasn’t given any faerie of the opposite sex a second look since she finished her own training?”

  Tora protests loudly, but I’ve stopped listening. She’s right. What am I doing with Nate? Seriously. What. Am. I. Doing? Is he really worth the risk I’m taking? Why do I even like him? Sure, he’s good-looking, but then so is Ryn, and
there’s nothing on this earth that could make me want to date him. Nate has a sense of humor; he makes me laugh; he’s interested in my life. But I could probably say the same thing about hundreds of human boys. If Nate hadn’t kissed me, if he’d been happy to say goodbye, would I ever have missed him?

  I look over the table at the curling black lines tattooed across both of Tora’s wrists. The markings that identify her as a guardian. I’m so close to receiving markings of my own, but if the Guild finds out that I’m consistently disobeying them, I’m pretty sure I can kiss those markings goodbye. What will I have left if I’m not allowed to be a guardian? I’ll have Nate, but for how long?

  As I lick my fingers clean, I come to a decision. I’ll go to Nate tonight, before I have a chance to change my mind, and tell him I can’t see him anymore. I won’t give him the potion—it seems wrong somehow to take his memories from him—but after tonight I won’t go back to see him again. And I won’t try to find Angelica.

  A small ache settles in my chest. This sucks, but I can do it. I’ve survived far worse.

  “Violet?”

  I look up, unsure how long Raven has been trying to get my attention. “Yes?”

  “What do you plan to do with your week off?”

  “Uh, sit at home and repent my wicked ways?”

  “Yeah, right,” says Flint, laughing. “You probably have a private training center set up in your home. I doubt you’ll rest for a second.”

  I throw a blueberry at him. “Perhaps I will rest, Flint. I haven’t done that since I began my training five years ago.”

  Both Flint and Raven’s mouths drop open. “Okay, you definitely need a break, honey,” says Raven.

  *

  I pace from one side of my bedroom to the other, trying to work up the courage to go to Nate’s. I wipe my sweaty palms against my pants. This is ridiculous. I always knew getting involved with boys was a bad idea. I scoop my hair up with one hand and fan my sweaty neck with the other.