“What’s her name?” I ask. “I’ll name her.”
Ben gives me a look. “Do you think I know her name? Do you think anyone knows her name?”
“Then say my name,” I say quickly. “Say it.”
After a moment, Ben says, “Selkie Stewart,” and we are able to take a few more steps before he hits another block.
“Say it again,” I tell him.
He looks annoyed. “We can’t keep—”
“You need to find the talisman,” the Erlking interjects.
I look at him in surprise, because I hadn’t realized he’d turned back too.
Ben regards him blankly. “The talisman? What talisman?”
“You have to break her enchantment. You need the talisman to do it.”
Ben looks displeased. “I’m a faerie. I don’t need the talisman to break an enchantment—”
“Yes, you do. He’s right,” Will interrupts. “He’s absolutely right, because you’re fighting your own magic. You can’t break it completely without draining yourself. That’s really very clever of her.”
Ben glares at him. “You could have realized this before you told me to run.”
Will has the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”
With a roar of pure fury, Ben’s mother rounds the corner and draws to a stop. It is clear she did not expect us to be standing there, but she recovers from her surprise and sends us one of those anti-smiles powerful faeries seem to specialize in. “You’re trapped,” she announces confidently.
Ben straightens away from the wall and sweeps his hand toward his mother, pushing the rain in her direction. It splashes over her and she shrieks. A tongue of fire races from where she’s standing, hissing as the rain hits it, licking out toward us until the moment when it fizzles out entirely, and judging from the rage on his mother’s face, that was Ben’s doing too.
“This is ridiculous,” says the Erlking and pulls me to the left, tumbling me into a dark room. Kelsey and Safford follow us, and Will pulls Ben in and then closes the door.
“Lock it,” he tells Ben.
“Done,” Ben says.
“But she’s a traveler too,” I point out. “Won’t she just be able to unlock it?”
“Not if I can hold it for a bit,” Ben responds grimly.
I want to ask what good it’s doing us to be trapped in a room instead of out in the hallway where we can run, but Ben’s breaths have evened out a bit and he seems to be in less distress, so maybe he really did need a breather.
Will sends up an orb of light.
We are in a decent-sized room, but it is entirely empty except for a single purple orchid sitting in a pot on the other side of the room. It looks completely incongruous, there in the middle of the floor.
“What the hell is that?” the Erlking asks.
“It’s a flower,” Will answers.
“Why is it in here? I don’t like it.”
Will walks cautiously over to it and looks down at the pot. “It says here its name is Larry.”
“The plant has a name?” Kelsey asks.
“Yes,” Will confirms.
“The plant’s name is Larry?” she asks.
“Yes,” says Will again and turns away from the orchid, walking back toward us.
I turn my attention to Ben. He is staring at the door. There are alarming thumps coming from the other side of it.
“Will it hold?” the Erlking asks him.
“Yes,” Ben responds confidently.
“I suppose that’s something, but it means we’re trapped in here,” remarks the Erlking, echoing the thought I just had.
“Better than being trapped out there.” Ben turns away from the door. “It gives us time to think. What would she have used for the talisman?”
I am relieved that he seems to be trying to put together a plan. He seems much more like the old Ben. I turn to watch him pace into the room, and that is when I realize that the orchid has tripled in size. I stare at it.
“Was the plant always that big?” Kelsey asks, also staring at it.
Will stares at it too, standing very still. “No,” he answers slowly.
Even as we watch, the orchid grows another foot, leaping into the air.
Kelsey takes a step back, and I don’t blame her. “Make it stop,” she says.
Ben has also taken a step away from the orchid. “I can’t,” he replies. “I need to keep my focus on the door. Will?”
“I’m trying,” says Will, even as the orchid grows another two feet.
“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Kelsey points out.
“I can see that,” Will bites back.
The orchid hits the ceiling.
“Forget about the orchid.” Ben turns away from it. “We need to get the talisman. If we can get the talisman, then I can get away from here. Until then, we’re just trapped.”
“So what’s a talisman look like?” I ask.
“It could look like anything,” the Erlking replies. “It’s whatever the faerie casting the enchantment chose to imbue with the power. Is there anything your mother is especially fond of, that she keeps by her side, especially when you’re around?”
“Anything she keeps by her side.” Ben looks perplexed. “Not that I can think of.”
But I am focusing on a different part of what the Erlking said. “Anything your mother is especially fond of,” I repeat. “Ben. Your coat.”
“My coat,” he echoes. “You think it’s my coat?”
“Is this the talisman of your enchantment?” I indicate my sweatshirt.
“Yeah,” he affirms.
“You gave it to me. You didn’t keep it for yourself.”
“Because the enchantment is yours to control.”
“Right. And that’s what she did to you. Will said this is your enchantment. She gave the talisman to you.”
“Oh, that is clever,” breathes the Erlking.
“That means I can’t really break the enchantment by stealing the talisman. I already have the talisman,” Ben realizes.
“You have to give the talisman to somebody else,” Will says. “Someone the enchantment wasn’t intended for. It will break it.”
“Me,” I say and look at Ben. “I’ll take the coat.”
“Anybody can take it,” Will interjects. “It doesn’t have to be you.”
Ben looks at me and then nods briskly and turns to Will. “No, it has to be Selkie and me. If we go, my mother will chase after us. We’re the ones she cares about. The rest of you will be free to get to the corgis, and Selkie and I will break the enchantment and we’ll meet you.”
“Uh, guys?” ventures Kelsey from behind us.
“Where are the corgis?” Will asks. “How do we get to them?”
“I know how to get to them,” the Erlking interjects confidently.
“Guys, seriously,” Kelsey says, but I’m distracted by the Erlking’s statement.
As is Ben. Ben looks at him. “How do you know so much about the layout of this place?”
“I’m just very clever,” the Erlking responds mildly.
Ben frowns, and I get the impression he doesn’t really approve of the Erlking being clever on top of everything else.
Something brushes against my shoulder, and I think it’s Kelsey, trying to get my attention, and I turn toward her just as she shrieks. I realize immediately why she shrieked, because it wasn’t Kelsey brushing my shoulder—it was the orchid, which has now grown so that it stretches across the room. I have a flashback to the tulips that nearly strangled me during my first time in the Otherworld. Larry the orchid is growing so quickly that I find myself staring at a branch shooting toward me. It doesn’t poke my eye out only because Ben grabs me out of the way.
We are crowded together against the door as the orchid encroaches
upon us. It snakes out a tendril that curls around Kelsey’s wrist.
“Get it off!” Kelsey exclaims in a panic, but the orchid tugs, tumbling Kelsey forward, and she lands straight in one of its enormous blossoms, sending up a puff of pollen.
Safford lunges for her, pulling her out, and then the Erlking unsheathes his sword and begins hacking at the orchid. I remember the knife that I stole from dinner and pull that out as well, but it’s hardly effective against the onslaught of the orchid.
The orchid named Larry.
The orchid named Larry.
“Larry!” I shout, throwing all of my intent behind it, hoping that naming works on supernatural plants as well as supernatural creatures.
It does. Larry shrivels up until it’s back to the size it was when we first entered the room.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
The Erlking sheathes his sword, breathing hard, and says, “Well done. Will it stay that size now?”
“I have no idea,” I say. I love that the Erlking thinks I know about any of the craziness going on around us. My only idea was to take us all here in the first place, and look how well that turned out.
Kelsey is in a terrifyingly still heap on the floor with the orchid detritus all around her.
Safford and I lean over her in mirrored desperation. She’s breathing; she just seems to be thoroughly unconscious.
“What’s wrong with her?” I demand, looking up at Ben.
“It’s an enchantment,” Ben says grimly.
“Well, break it,” I order him.
“I can’t, I—”
Kelsey sits up abruptly, coughing.
“Kelsey!” I exclaim and give her a hug. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she manages around her coughs. “What happened?”
“We were so worried,” I tell her. “You fell into the orchid blossom, and then you just…collapsed.”
“So I was almost killed by an orchid,” she concludes flatly.
And then, startling me, Safford pushes me aside and catches Kelsey in a fierce and desperate hug. Kelsey makes a little exclamation of surprise, but she hugs him back.
I look to Ben, to thank him, but he shakes his head. “It wasn’t me. It was Will.”
I turn to thank Will, but he’s frowning toward Larry the orchid, and when I turn back there, I realize that it’s started growing again, that the Erlking is once again hacking at the branches, but they are growing more quickly than he can cut them off.
“Larry,” I say again, and it works again, but only briefly before it starts growing again. I can’t just stand here and keep repeating its name constantly. We need to do something else.
Will clearly has the same idea. “You two need to go,” he says without taking his eyes off the orchid. “Right now. We have to get out of this room.” He looks at Ben. “We’ll see you later.”
I don’t even have time to say good-bye to them before Ben grabs my hand and the room vanishes.
We are back in his bedroom, which seems very quiet and empty, given that it does not have a killer orchid in it. We are standing right by the chair on which I placed the coat before we went to the banquet. We both look down at it for a moment.
“Do I just…take it?” I ask uncertainly.
I hear Ben draw in breath to respond, and then his mother, out of nowhere, knocks him over with a physical blow. I have never seen a faerie actually hit another faerie like that; they seem to fight mostly through their magic. I am momentarily so shocked as Ben staggers backward that I can’t even react. I think that fighting this way must be unusual, because Ben can’t seem to gather himself. He is so caught off guard that he is just retreating, trying to duck away but not succeeding as his mother keeps planting slaps and shoves and kicks on him.
I launch myself into action, just as Ben finds himself backed against the bathroom door. There is a moment when he looks at his mother, and his eyes are narrowed. He doesn’t look the slightest bit afraid—he looks furious and also thoughtful, as if he is already planning some kind of retaliation.
His mother seems to pause at his expression too. “You—” she begins, but we never get to hear what else she was going to say, because I lunge and close my hands into the fabric of her gown. The thing is, her gown looks soft and gauzy, but touching it is like closing my hands into a bramble of thorns. I gasp in surprised pain, and I see Ben’s narrowed eyes shift to me, worried for a split second of distraction, before I shake off the pain, pretend it’s not there, and tug backward.
His mother isn’t expecting it, and she stumbles away from him, giving him enough room to duck away. She keeps trying to pull her dress out of my grasp, but I am hanging on grimly. My hands feel as if they are on fire, but I refuse to let go, and she tries to whip me around. I collide painfully with the wall, and for a moment, the room spins around me.
Ben throws his mother aside. At least, it seems to me that’s what he does, in the hazy spinning of the room. Her dress rips, my hands still caught in a tangle of vicious fabric that is no longer connected to his mother. He thrusts his coat at me, and I realize that he went to retrieve it. I drop the fabric and grab the coat automatically.
“Selkie Stewart,” he says hurriedly, under his breath. “I renounce this coat and give it to you. I want you to have it. Will you take it? Say yes.”
I don’t need the prompting. I am already saying yes and nodding my head for extra effect.
Ben gasps, and I wonder for a second if I’ve done something wrong. I hear an answering gasp from his mother, and then Ben takes the most enormous breath, closing his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are a light and clear blue, pale like the trickle of a brook. He sends me a brilliant smile, and his hands find mine underneath the coat I am clinging to, and then we are gone.
CHAPTER 11
We are outside, sitting on hard, unforgiving ground. The sky overhead is a brilliant blue, but the temperature is crystalline cold and I am shivering almost immediately.
Ben tugs the coat out of my hands and pulls it around me then stops, staring down. He looks…horrified.
“What…?” I start to ask—and then look down myself. My hands still hurt, but I hadn’t looked at them. They’re covered in blood, streams of it running down my wrists, dripping onto the dirt, and they are swollen and almost purple.
“What happened?” Ben asks, his voice low with concern.
“Your mother’s dress…” I start to explain.
Ben takes my hands carefully in his, holding them gently, and I find myself holding my breath. The look on his face is so intimate and loving. I am feeling light-headed and a little bit dizzy, and Ben seems utterly capable of taking care of me for a moment. I want to just let him, the temptation sweet in my mouth.
I study his face as he looks at my hands, the bruise of his dark eyelashes against his pale cheeks, the concentrated bow of his mouth. He is absurdly beautiful, and I had forgotten. It’s not like I’ve had much time to sit and admire Ben recently.
My hands stop throbbing, and he looks up at me from underneath his eyelashes. “Better?” he asks. His thumbs are rubbing soft circles over the pulse points in my wrist.
“Much,” I croak breathlessly, because it’s all I can get out.
His lips curve crookedly, and I figure he can probably feel my pulse increasing under the brush of his thumb. “Good.” He glances around us. “Oh, St. David’s Ruin. Cottingley. Not quite where I was aiming, but I was under a bit of duress.” He looks back at me. “And my favorite part of Cottingley, actually.” He beams at me.
I can’t tell if he means it’s his favorite part of Cottingley because he kissed me here, or if he means nothing by this at all. “Did you use some of my energy to make that jump?” I ask instead. His thumbs are still tickling at my wrists. I wish he’d stop. I wish he’d never stop.
“Yes. I had to. We’d never have gotten o
ut of the Unseelie Court alive if I hadn’t. Why?”
“I feel a little bit dizzy,” I confess.
His smile widens, and he ducks his head closer to me. “That could be an energy drain,” he says, his eyes filling my vision. “It could be other things too.”
I am struggling to maintain some logic and sensible thinking. “Can we get back to Boston?”
“Yes,” he responds. “I need a minute to breathe.” He drops my hands, and I hover between relief and disappointment, but not for very long, because then he lifts his hands until he is cupping my head in them, his fingers in my hair and along the back of my neck, rubbing into the skin behind my ear and shivering at my jawline. “Or a century,” he murmurs. “Depending on the time you’re keeping.”
I stop thinking, and then he kisses me.
Which doesn’t help the thinking thing.
My thoughts are all scattered, but somewhere in there, I have the vague idea that even though I’ve been denying it, I really have been sick with worry over him. I thought it was possible I’d never see him again, never mind kiss him, and I told myself I would have been fine with that, but now that he’s kissing me, I know that was all a lie, and I find myself kissing him back.
Kissing Ben is almost like being blindfolded, turned three times in a circle, and then being told to try to figure out where one particular person is sitting in a crowd of thirty thousand scattered all around you. It’s that disorienting. Although far more pleasant. But that is the only excuse I have for the fact that when Ben finally draws back, panting for breath, I am somehow flat on my back and he is leaning over me.
When did that happen? I wonder dizzily, looking up at him.
“Thank you,” he says and draws a finger down my nose, which shouldn’t be sexy yet somehow manages to be.
I want to draw him back in for another kiss, but now I’m confused, so I say, “For what?”
“For saving me. Again.” He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, which feels heavy and wet from Ben kissing all rational thought out of me, and I freeze up as it crashes down on me, saving him, again.
I think of the tidal wave of ice that had poured into me on Boston Common when he left me standing there, left me without a second thought. Stay because you love me, I’d begged, and he had looked away, and he had left. And after all that, I still rescued him. Again. Yes, I had wanted to get to his mother and ask about the fays, but really, underneath it all, if I’m totally honest, wasn’t I just trying to save his life? What is wrong with me?
The Boy with the Hidden Name Page 11