I pull back.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say, pushing the book into Nate’s hands and jumping to my feet. “Quickly, before I forget.”
“Where is she?” Nate asks, scrambling up behind me.
“I don’t know, but I know what the place looks like.” I open a doorway on the wall beside his desk, then grab his hand and pull him in after me. I focus my mind on the image I saw, and the feeling that went along with it. Old, protected, possibly underground.
We step out into the near darkness of a tunnel. I look up, my eyes drawn to the tiny points of light glittering on the ceiling above us. The ceiling itself is rough and uneven, and curves to meet the walls on either side of us. I reach down and brush my fingers across the surface beneath my feet. Cold and hard, like stone.
“Something doesn’t feel right here, Nate,” I whisper. For some reason, I’m afraid to speak out loud.
“What do you mean? Are we in the wrong place?”
“No, that’s not it.” I pause for a second, listening to the dead silence. “I don’t know, I just have an uneasy feeling, almost as though . . .” My next breath catches in my throat.
“Vi?” Nate reaches for my hand.
“I think we’re Underground, Nate.”
“Uh, yeah.” I can tell from his voice that he thinks I’m being slow. “I’m pretty sure we’re underground, Vi.”
“Not just normal underground, Nate. The Underground.”
It’s just light enough for me to make out Nate’s confused expression. “The Underground as in . . . the subway system in England?”
I close my eyes. Why do I even try? “No, Nate,” I say with as much patience as I can muster. “The network of tunnels beneath Creepy Hollow that the most dangerous fae call their home.”
“Oh.” His fingers tighten around my hand. “So that’s bad then?”
“Yes, Nate. Very bad. I don’t know what your mother’s doing down here, but we’re not sticking around to find out.”
Without letting go of his hand, I hold my stylus against the wall and scribble the words to open a doorway. Nothing happens. My stomach lurches as I try again. Still nothing.
“What the . . . What is happening?” I step back and drop Nate’s hand. “Where is my magic?” I push both hands into the air in front of me, not thinking about what I want to produce, just hoping I can release some power. A ball of light blazes into existence.
Nate throws his arm across his eyes. “Whoa, can you turn it down a little? That’s kind of blinding.”
I ease up on the release of magic, leaving the ball shining in midair behind me as I try once again to open a doorway on the stone wall. Nothing.
“What’s wrong?” asks Nate.
“I don’t know. It’s not me. My magic is fine.” I nod my head toward the ball of light. “There must be some kind of power in these walls that’s preventing me from opening a doorway.”
“So you’re saying we’re stuck down here?”
I nod, the movement terse. “Dammit, Nate, we shouldn’t have come here.”
“Hey, you were just as keen to find my mother as I was.”
“Actually, up until about ten minutes ago, I was planning never to have anything to do with you or your family again.”
Nate jerks back slightly from my verbal slap. He doesn’t say anything. Guilt wraps itself around the knot that’s already sitting in my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I say, reaching for his arm. “I obviously didn’t want that badly enough, since you managed to change my mind.”
A howl breaks through the silence around us, echoing along the tunnel. I can feel the hair on my arms rising. A high-pitched shriek follows soon after, causing me to stuff my fingers into my ears. When the noise has subsided, I take hold of Nate’s hand and nudge the ball of light forward. “Let’s find our way out of here.”
“Wait.” Nate pulls me to a stop. “Are the faerie paths really the only way you can travel? You don’t have any, I don’t know, disappearing spells?”
“None that I know of.”
“Oh. It’s just that . . . well, remember when that reptiscilla attacked me? You were about to stab her with an arrow, and she just disappeared into nothing.”
“Oh, yeah. Other kinds of fae can’t use the faerie paths, so they have their own ways of travelling. But for faeries it’s the paths or good old-fashioned walking.”
“Right.” Nate looks both ways down the tunnel. “So which way do you think leads out?”
I shake my head. “No clue.”
“Well, perhaps if we find my mother, she can help us.”
I’m not sure I like that plan, but it’s better than wandering aimlessly until we run into some horrible Underground creature. I take the book from Nate, try to relax as much as possible, and send my mind out. I find her easily, climbing a curved stairway, the chamber disappearing below her.
“This way,” I tell Nate, feeling myself drawn forward. We walk in silence. We pass other tunnels that break off to the left and right. Sometimes we come to a fork of two or three paths, or a T-shape, where we have to choose to go left or right. The occasional crevice has been dug into the wall, like a bus stop for whatever magical traffic comes down these tunnels. It could be dreadfully confusing, but I keep hold of Angelica’s book, sending my mind out every few minutes, just for a second, to determine the direction we should go in.
I remain on edge, alert for the slightest sound or movement, my mind ready to call to whatever weapon I might need. But when a sound eventually does come, it creeps up slowly. It whispers in the distance, too faint to be recognizable. I can hear it gathering in strength though, gradually becoming louder.
“What is that?” whispers Nate.
I can’t tell. It’s like a forest of leaves being attacked by a stormy gale. A rushing sound, like . . . “Water?” I say. I send the light behind us, lifting it higher and increasing its intensity. The rushing sound is getting louder. And louder.
And then I see it! A wall of water tumbling toward us with terrifying speed. “Run!” I shout, pulling Nate after me. But there’s no way we can outrun this flood. It will overtake us in a matter of seconds, drowning us like rats in a sewer. I skid to a halt beside a crevice, catching Nate’s arm before he can run past me. I shove him into the small space, squeeze my body in beside his, and throw up an invisible shield. My mind flits around the edges, making sure it completely seals us in. A heartbeat later the wall of water tears past us. I can feel it pressing against the shield, but I’m strong enough to hold it back.
Nate slides down to the floor and draws his knees up close to his body. I let my hands drop. I can hold the shield in place with my mind as long as I don’t lose concentration. With my knees pulled tightly against my chest, I can just fit myself into the tiny space left on the floor. My hair falls forward over my shoulders, and I loop it behind my ears. The ribbon Filigree gave me must have fallen out.
“Well done,” says Nate, resting a hand on my knee. “Is that force field thing going to hold?”
“Yes. Well, unless the flood carries on for hours and hours. In that case, my strength will eventually wane.”
“I think it’s slowing already,” says Nate. After watching the water for a few minutes, it’s clear that he’s right. The bubbling and churning have become a calm, steady current, and the level of the water seems to be lowering ever so gradually.
“Well, this is cozy,” says Nate. He winks at me.
“Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Draven Avenue. Losing my concentration right now would not be a good idea.”
He looks at the wall of water, then back at me. “But you’re a girl. Can’t you multitask?”
I lean my head back against the stone wall. “I refuse to let you talk me into a make-out session in a dodgy, underground tunnel. I have standards, you know.”
Nate laughs. “Even if I read you some love poetry? Would you still refuse a kiss?”
I lift my head and look at him. “Love poetry?”
“This book,” he
says, removing Angelica’s book from where it’s tucked beneath his arm. “It’s an anthology of poems. I don’t recognize any of the names though.” He turns to a random page. “‘Dress my love in night. Adorn her hair with stars, her arms with shadows, her lips with moonlight. Let the wind be her chariot, the mountains her footstool.’”
“Ambrose Nightlace,” I say immediately. “He was a faerie poet, so you wouldn’t know him.”
Nate stares at me. “So now you know poetry?”
I shrug. “My mom was into it. I still have all her books.”
Nate shakes his head. “If someone had told me before I met you that faeries existed, you, Violet, would not be what I imagined.”
“Oh really? And what exactly would you have imagined, Nathaniel?”
“Well, you’d be miniature, for one thing, with wings and some kind of sparkly, otherworldly clothing. You’d wave your wand around a lot, and you’d have your own language. Or maybe you’d speak proper, old-fashioned English.”
That last one stumps me. “But humans don’t speak proper, old-fashioned English anymore. Why should we? Besides, I spend a large amount of time hanging around humans while waiting for bad things to happen to them. Of course I’m going to end up speaking like—”
My words are cut off by a screeching, groaning sound, like slabs of rock moving against each other. The tunnel shudders, and through my shield I see chunks of stone falling into the water. I extend the shield to cover the entire surface of the crevice wall, hoping to hold it together. But the earthquake—if that’s what it is—passes as quickly as it came.
“Weird,” says Nate, as I carefully pull my shield back so that it only blocks the water.
I shift slightly in the tiny space and feel something digging into the right side of my butt. I reach beneath me and pull the metal disc out of my pocket. “Oh, hey, I found out what this symbol means.” I rest the circular shape on my knee. “Remember when I told you about halflings?”
“Yes. I thought you were referring to hobbits, but you had no idea what I was talking about.”
“Right. I still don’t. Anyway, do you remember me saying that halflings have unpredictable magic and some of them do crazy stuff like try to take over the world?”
Nate snorts, then makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face. “Sorry. Yes, I remember.”
I sigh. “Now what?”
“Nothing.” But he seems unable to keep the grin from creeping back onto his face. “You just sound like this old cartoon character who always wanted to take over the world. But that’s, um, obviously not important right now. Sorry. Go on.”
I wait a moment, to make sure he’s listening, then continue. “So, there was this half-human, half-faerie named Tharros Mizreth—”
“Jeez, try saying that five times in a row without getting your tongue twisted,” says Nate. I glare at him, and he mimes locking his lips shut.
“Anyway, not all halflings have magic, but it was clear from early on that Tharros possessed enormous power. Way more than any ordinary faerie or halfling. Basically, to cut a long history lesson short, he tried to gain control of a number of human cities, and in the process manipulated and killed many fae and humans. This—” I tap the metal disc on my knee “—was the symbol Tharros used to represent himself.”
Nate frowns. “How did my mother end up with a halfling’s symbol?”
“And how did she end up with a book of faerie poetry?” Nate doesn’t answer, turning his head instead to watch the water flowing past us. “I was thinking that perhaps she’s descended from Tharros’s human side,” I say, “and the disc was passed down to her.”
“Mm,” says Nate. He looks back at me. “So what happened to this Tharros guy?”
“A number of Guilds throughout the world got their best guardians together and they eventually took him out. This was a few centuries ago.”
Nate looks mildly surprised. “Your Guild isn’t the only one?”
“No. There are quite a few.” From the corner of my eye, I see the water is almost gone. “The Guilds are all situated near areas where dangerous fae seem to congregate. Like what we, in Creepy Hollow, refer to as Underground.”
“Which is where we are right now,” says Nate.
“I think so.”
“Do you go Underground for assignments?”
“Hell, no. It’s way too dangerous. Teams of fully trained guardians come down here sometimes to take care of certain things, but trainees are never sent. It’s not like we’re forbidden to go Underground, but I get the impression we’d be in trouble if we did and the Guild found out.”
The last of the water trickles away, leaving a thin layer of wet mud on the stone floor. I let go of the shield and it ripples, then disappears with a pop. I stand up. It’s a relief to stretch my legs out.
I conjure up another ball of light, and we continue down the tunnel. We reach a fork and take the left-hand path after I check Angelica’s location once more. Several minutes pass, and the tunnel begins to smell as though something died in it. I’m just beginning to get nervous about the kind of dead body we might come across, when we round a corner and almost smack into the backside of a troll.
The troll is enormous and hunched over, way too big for this tunnel. He clutches a wooden log in his massive fist. I take a hasty step backward as he swivels to face us. I reach for a sword, knowing from previous experience that my arrows can barely pierce a troll’s skin.
“What do you want me to do?” whispers Nate, his hands raised in fists as though he intends to box with the troll. Before I can answer—or laugh—the troll raises the log and swings it down at us. I jump out of the way and slash at his arm. The blade makes contact, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He advances on us, swinging the log back and forth, sending us back the way we came. Dammit, I need to stun this guy or we’ll never get past him.
“Keep him occupied,” I tell Nate before letting go of my sword and running back down the tunnel.
“What?” yells Nate. “You’re leaving me?”
“I need time!” I shout back over my shoulder.
I stop somewhere around the corner in a darkened crevice. Okay, focus. I breathe in slowly, drawing power from deep within me. As much power as I can get, as quickly as I can get it. Purple sparks ignite between my hands, jumping and swirling in a ball of magic that grows larger and larger. Come on, come on. I need a lot to take out a troll. Way more than I should probably be using up right now.
“Violet!” I would have expected the troll to be around the corner by now, but whatever Nate’s doing to distract him, it’s working. “How much more time do you need?”
Come on, come on. “Come ON,” I groan out loud. The troll rounds the corner, and for a moment I think Nate has disappeared. But then I see him, balanced on one of the troll’s shoulders, his hands twisted in the troll’s greasy hair. The troll roars and swings his arms about, as though trying to swat a fly, but Nate dodges easily.
With as much force as I can muster, I throw the magic at the troll. The purple light hits him directly in the center of his stomach, just as Nate leaps off his shoulder and onto the ground. The troll lets out a loud grunt. His black eyes glaze over, and he sways slightly before toppling onto the ground. The impact sends a shudder through the stone tunnel.
Nate, breathing hard, turns to look at me. “You could have at least left me with a weapon before you ran off.”
“Sorry. Guardian weapons only work for guardians.” I run a hand through my hair as I walk over to him. “Besides, you seem to have handled it well enough without a weapon. How did you get up on his shoulder?”
Nate surveys the fallen troll. “Well, uh, when his arm came down to hit me, I jumped onto it and pulled myself up. I honestly thought he’d whack me right off, but I guess it worked.”
I stand on tiptoe and kiss Nate’s cheek. “Well done,” I say with a grin. “And sorry I ran off. It’s just that it takes some time to draw enough power to stun someone, especially someone the size
of a troll, and I couldn’t exactly do it while fending him off.” I step up onto the troll’s giant leg and begin climbing over him. “That’s the reason we don’t stun while fighting,” I explain. “There’s no time to stop and gather all that power.” We jump down onto the other side. “Gross,” I say, holding the back of my hand up to my nose. “He smells like a dead frog.”
Nate wipes his hands on his jeans. “And he really needs to wash his hair.”
After that, I keep one of my sparkling guardian knives in my hand, ready to throw it at the first thing that moves. But we don’t come across any other creature because around the next corner the tunnel comes to an abrupt end. Bright light pours out of an archway. An archway that opens into a large chamber. And sitting at a desk just inside the chamber, is a woman.
CHAPTER TEN
Ornate hangings decorate the chamber walls, and the floor is a mosaic of giant stone tiles. Colors and shapes swirl lazily within the tiles, some looking disturbingly like faces. Plants that must be kept alive by magic line the walls, and a cage of twittering birds hangs in one corner. In the center of the chamber, behind the desk the woman is sitting at, a stairway spirals from floor to ceiling.
The woman doesn’t notice us standing motionless in her doorway. Instead, she stares at a book spread open on her desk. She’s dressed in white, with long sleeves that reach almost to the tips of her fingers. Elaborate silver jewelry curls around her neck. Her black hair is tainted with strands of grey, which seems strange to me because, from where I stand, I can’t see a single wrinkle on her flawless face.
I let go of my knife. Its fiery disappearance into the air catches her attention. Her head snaps up, and the moment I see her eyes, I know something isn’t right.
“Nathaniel,” she breathes as she rises from the desk in one fluid movement. “I so hoped you would find me one day.”
Her eyes are bright silver, and I realize then that her hair isn’t grey. It is, of course, also silver. And that can only mean one thing. “Nate.” I grab his hand to pull him back. “This isn’t your mother.”
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