by Box Set
“Here you go, sir,” Cecilia says, placing the sugar bowl near a collection of jars already on the table. “I’m sorry I forgot to put it out.”
“Not a problem,” the man says, barely glancing up from his newspaper as Cecilia returns to the kitchen.
“And this must be Mr. Hart himself,” Ryn says, leaning over the man’s shoulder to get a closer look at the article he’s reading.
“What on earth?” Mr. Hart drops the newspaper and jumps up, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. Ryn stumbles backward into me, clearly horrified that this man can see us.
“Oh crap,” I mutter. “Not a good start.”
“P-please,” Mr. Hart stutters, backing away from us. “Not now.”
I’m about to reassure him when I feel a tug on my arm, and, for the third time today, I find myself pulled into a doorway in the air.
“What the flipping hell was that?” Ryn demands when we step out behind a tree in the Harts’ garden.
“Well, obviously he can see us.”
“Yes, Violet, I gathered that. But why? He’s human.”
I shake my head. “This had better not be another Nate case. I don’t want to deal with more halflings.”
“Do you think we’ll be accused of breaking rule number two now?” Ryn asks as he runs a hand through his hair.
“Probably not. That man already knows about faeries, and not because of us.”
“I guess so. But how are we supposed to observe him if he can see us?”
“Um …” I twist a strand of hair around my finger while thinking. “Okay, what if we take the faerie paths back to the dining room, but instead of opening a full doorway, we open a space that’s just large enough to peek through?”
Ryn looks at me like I’m stupid. “So instead of two faeries in his dining room, he’ll see an eyeball floating in midair? Wow. Brilliant.”
“Obviously I’d try to be as inconspicuous as possible.” When Ryn doesn’t say anything, I add, “Do you have a better idea?”
“Fine. We can try it.”
I open a new doorway. We walk through while I think about the curtain in the room Mr. Hart is sitting in. Hopefully my floating eyeball will be less obvious against the pattern of the fabric. The darkness in front of us begins to dissolve away, but I catch the opening with my fingers, pinching the edge and closing it back up until there’s only a small opening. I look through it.
“Well, this is great,” Ryn says beside me. “I can’t see a thing now.”
I widen the opening with my fingers until it stretches in front of Ryn’s face, then I close up the space between us so that two separate openings exist. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”
I put my eye to the tiny window and see Cecelia place a mug on the table in front of Mr. Hart. “Thank you,” he says as he straightens the pages of his newspaper. “I’m sorry I was so clumsy with the first one.”
She bobs her head and leaves the room. Mr. Hart glances around nervously, then pulls a phone from his pocket. He jabs a few buttons before bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello? David?” he says after several seconds. “It’s happened again. Two of them just appeared right here in the breakfast room.” He pauses. “Yes, faeries! What else would I be talking about? You haven’t forgotten our last few conversations, have you?” Another pause. “No, your mother doesn’t know anything. I don’t want to alarm her. But listen—” his eyes dart around the room “—we’re entertaining tomorrow night. Please come. I desperately need to—” He breaks off as a woman with a phone at her ear enters the room. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slides the phone back into his pocket and clears his throat as he reaches once more for his newspaper.
“We’re fortunate to see quite a lot of them,” the woman says into her phone as she pulls out a chair and sits down. “They’re actually staying with us at the moment while my son and daughter-in-law are overseas.” The woman’s skin appears flushed, and her hair, which is tied tightly on top of her head, is a deep shade of auburn that can’t possibly be natural given her age. She’s barefoot and wearing workout clothes. She leans back in her seat as Cecilia places a bowl of fruit salad in front of her. “Oh, no, they’re older than that now. Grace is thirteen and Jamie is eight. Mm hmm. Yes. Yes, we really must, it’s been so long since I saw you.” She looks at her husband and rolls her eyes. “Okay, goodbye now. Bye.” She drops the phone onto the table with an exasperated sigh.
Mr. Hart, who has regained his composure since his wife entered the room, says, “Something wrong, dear?”
“That woman!” Mrs. Hart picks up her spoon. “I don’t know why she keeps pretending we have anything in common anymore. I’m just going to have to ‘forget’ once again to make a plan to see her.” She spoons some fruit into her mouth. “Are Grace and Jamie up yet?”
“I haven’t seen them this morning,” Mr. Hart says. He puts his newspaper down and reaches for his mug.
I pull my eye away from the hole and look over at Ryn. “Aren’t children supposed to be at school at this time of day?”
“Maybe they’re on holiday.”
I return my gaze to the window and hear Mrs. Hart asking, “Who were you talking to when I walked into the room?”
“Oh, that was David.” Mr. Hart takes a sip from his mug and disappears behind his newspaper.
“David? You’ve been talking to him a lot in the past few days. Is something going on?”
Mr. Hart lowers the crinkled pages just enough to look at his wife over the top. “Of course not, dear. Can’t I have a simple conversation with my son?”
“No, I don’t think you can, actually. He only ever seems to call when he’s in trouble and needs something.”
“Well, trust me,” Mr. Hart says, lifting the newspaper once more. “He isn’t in trouble this time.”
“David. That’s the youngest son, right?” I say to Ryn.
“Yes.”
I watch Mr. Hart take a sip of his coffee. “I say we try a compulsion potion on him right now and compel him to tell the truth. We’ll be done with this assignment in an hour.”
“I would’ve suggested that myself, Violet, except for the part where he’ll be able to see us putting the potion in his coffee.”
“I’m not an idiot, Oryn. I do actually have a plan.” I close up the hole in front of my eye and think of the kitchen instead. A doorway opens near the stove where Cecelia is nudging a poached egg out of its mold and onto a plate. I sit down on the kitchen floor and remove my potions kit from my bag. After enlarging it, I look through the vials for one labeled Compel.
There isn’t one.
Great. The one thing I didn’t add to my kit. I do have one labeled Confuse, though, which might have a similar effect. Mr. Hart will tell us anything if we confuse him enough.
By the time I’ve decided on the confusion potion, Cecelia is heading to the dining room with the plate in her hand. I jump up, run after her, and manage to throw a few drops onto a buttered piece of toast before she leaves the kitchen.
Time to watch and wait. I observe Mr. Hart through the crack between the door and the wall. He eats quickly, washing the meal down with a few gulps of his coffee. “Well, I’ll see you after golf,” he says to his wife. He folds the newspaper and leaves it on the table. “You’ll confirm with the caterers for tomorrow night?”
“Yes, it’s on my list,” Mrs. Hart says. She picks up her phone and moves her thumb across the screen.
I wait for Mr. Hart to leave the room, then tiptoe after him. I pass a shimmer in the air, and a moment later Ryn is walking beside me. Mr. Hart turns a corner and we follow quietly. I watch for signs of confusion—stumbling, shaking his head, talking to himself—but nothing appears to be happening yet. He enters a room, and I catch a glimpse of bookshelves and a large desk before he shuts the door behind him.
“His study,” Ryn says.
“We can watch through the window until the potion’s kicked in. I used Confuse, by the way. Didn’t h
ave any Compel.”
Ryn sighs. “I suppose we can make that work.”
We get to the garden using the faerie paths, and it’s easy enough to find Mr. Hart’s study window. It’s a massive floor-to-ceiling piece of glass, like almost every other window we’ve seen here. We keep our backs to the wall and edge toward the window. Ryn peeks in.
“Why isn’t he confused yet?” he asks. “Did you use a dud potion?”
“Of course not. I got that potion from Uri only a few weeks ago.”
I pull Ryn back and take his place at the edge of the window. Mr. Hart is sitting with his back to us at a dark-stained oak desk. He appears to be reading something on his computer screen. After staring at the screen for a while, he yawns, leans back, and rubs his neck. Other than looking a little fatigued, he seems in complete control of his mental faculties.
But then I notice something. “What’s that behind his ear?” I lean forward to get a closer look as Ryn peers over my shoulder. “It was concealed by his hair, but when he rubbed his neck I saw it. See there?” I point at the small round metal shape stuck to Mr. Hart’s skin.
“It looks a little like our sound drops.”
“Yes, but don’t you recognize the metal? It looks just like the stuff Zell put around his dungeon to prevent outside magic getting in. The same metal he put around my wrist to block my magic.”
“But this guy’s human.” Ryn turns to me with a frown. “He has no magic to be blocked.”
“I don’t think it’s to block his magic,” I say, straightening and looking at Ryn. “It’s to block ours.”
Six
“Golf,” I say to Ryn, “is possibly the most boring human sport in existence.” I walk across the deck and flop onto a lounger beside him. “People spend ages trying to get their feet the right distance apart, their knees bent at the correct angle, and the proper grip with their hands, all so they can whack tiny balls into the distance, which they then have to go in search of when the darn things don’t land where they’re supposed to. And I had to spend the entire morning watching this! Through faerie paths peepholes!”
Ryn crosses his legs. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell his golfing buddies anything about his encounters with the fae kind?”
“Nope. I even stayed to observe their lunch, but the conversation remained firmly in boring territory.” I stare at the canvas umbrella above my head. “So, what happened here? Did you find somewhere for us to stay tonight, or did you just laze about all day?”
Without lifting his head, Ryn points to the other side of the deck. “Pool house.”
Pool house. Right. “So you didn’t like my idea of finding an unused bedroom in the house and magically locking it while we’re inside?”
“The Harts’ grandkids are using two of the rooms, and the maids were making up the others. Seems there’ll be people staying over after tomorrow night’s party.”
“Hmm, a party.” I shift into a more comfortable position on the lounger. “The last one they had was the one where the Unseelie faerie gave something to Mr. Hart.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe the faerie will show up again and we’ll figure everything out tomorrow night.”
“Maybe.”
We lie in silence for a while, and I try my best not to think of Honey in the midst of an exciting battle between two fae kinds. It doesn’t work. “We could be fighting dangerous Egyptian fae and instead we’re lying in the shade beside a pool, doing nothing.”
“I know,” Ryn says. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Ryn!” I sit up. “I want to be fighting something. I can’t stand this waiting around and observing and essentially achieving nothing.”
Ryn tilts his head so he can look up at me. “I think I know why you got this assignment. Someone realized you need to learn patience and—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “What is that on your face?”
“Um …”
I lean closer. “Is that a bruise on your eye?”
“Hmm.” He looks away. “I thought that would be gone by now.”
I cross my arms and ask, “What exactly did you do today?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is my business when you’re my assignment partner.”
“Well, it had nothing to do with our assignment, so I guess I don’t have to tell you.”
I glare at him a moment longer, then stand up. “Fine. I’m going to check out the pool house.”
“Great.” I hear the creak of the lounger as Ryn gets up. “I should probably do that too.”
“You mean you haven’t even looked inside? It could be nothing more than a storage room filled with pool toys and chemicals.”
“Let’s hope not, or tonight could get uncomfortable.”
I try the handle and find it unlocked. I step inside, Ryn close behind me. Wooden blinds conceal the windows, allowing just enough afternoon light in to cast a warm glow over the room. A kitchenette lines the wall on the right, an open door on the far wall leads to a bathroom, and in the center of the room is a large bed. One large bed.
Ryn looks sideways at me and raises an eyebrow. “It’s big enough for two.”
“You’re joking, right? Why don’t you pretend to be a gentleman and give me the bed?”
He laughs. “Now you’re the one joking.”
“Of course.” I sigh. “I have nothing but the lowest of expectations when it comes to you, Ryn.”
“And I shall continue to live down to them.” He jumps onto the bed and puts both hands behind his head. “It’s quite comfortable. Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”
“I’d rather conjure up a separate bed, thank you very much.”
“And waste all that magic and energy? I’d be an irresponsible partner if I let you do that.”
I suppose he’s right. I walk over to the bed, grab one of the many small cushions, and concentrate on sending magic into it to lengthen it. When the cushion is long enough, I toss it onto the middle of the bed. “Now I’ll join you.” I sit down and lie back. “And just so you know, the first part of your body that touches me is the first part you’ll lose.”
* * *
The Harts’ grandchildren emerge from the house in the afternoon to play in the swimming pool, so Ryn and I spend several hours searching the upper level of the house. There isn’t much chance of us finding whatever it was the Unseelie faerie gave Mr. Hart, but that doesn’t stop us trying.
“I wish we had even a hint of what we’re looking for,” Ryn says, chucking socks back into a drawer and closing it with a bang.
“Maybe it doesn’t exist,” I say. “Maybe the thing he was given is the metal that’s now stuck behind his ear.”
“Maybe.” Ryn feels behind a large mirror. “But since we don’t know that for sure, we may as well keep looking.”
We find nothing, of course. No hidden rooms or locked drawers or objects that feel like they might have some kind of power.
The Harts and their grandchildren gather in the small dining room for dinner while I search their kitchen for food they won’t miss. Okay, so it might be considered stealing, but we’ve been told not to leave here until our assignment is complete, so how else are we supposed to get food? It’s not like we can conjure it out of nothing. I gather a few items and go in search of Ryn, who isn’t in the pool house where I left him. I find him downstairs, sprawled on a couch in front of an enormous television screen that must have been hidden behind cabinet doors.
I try to recall some recipe spells while Ryn explains the drama going on in the TV show he’s watching. Part of me starts to enjoy the unfolding story; another part keeps screaming at me that this is not what our final assignment is supposed to be like. Where is the excitement? The fighting? The adrenaline? I spend the rest of the evening discreetly following Mr. Hart around the house—because I have to do something—while Ryn remains downstairs.
I return to the pool house before he does. Instead of changing into anything tha
t might resemble pajamas, I pull on another pair of form-fitting black pants and a black tank top—just in case we have to get up in the middle of the night and fight something. I comb my fingers through my damp hair and try not to think about how weird it’s going to be sleeping in the same room as Ryn. I wonder what arrangement Honey and Asami have made, because I doubt Honey’s boyfriend would be happy for her to share a room with another guy. Or maybe they don’t have that problem because they’re too busy fighting exotic monsters to get any sleep.
I close the bathroom door behind me and look over to find Ryn lying on his half of the bed. Shirtless. “No,” I say immediately. “I am not sleeping with a half-naked guy next to me.”
He looks up. “So don’t sleep then.”
“Ryn! It’s just weird, okay, so please put on a shirt.”
“Oh, get over it, V,” he says as he rolls onto his side. “It’s too hot for any more clothes than this, and we’ve got Mount Pillow between us. You can’t even see me when you’re lying down.”
I close my eyes for a moment. He’s right. I do need to get over it. It doesn’t bother me when he walks around the training center half-naked, so it shouldn’t bother me now. I cross the room to the bed and lie down on top of the covers—like Ryn said, it’s too hot to be covering ourselves up with anything else.
I stare at the ceiling. “Do you want to sleep the first half of the night or the second?” I ask.
“You can sleep first. I’ll wake you when I’m tired.” He shifts slightly, and I feel the mattress move. “I really don’t think anything’s going to happen during the night, though.”
“No. Probably not.” I reach over and turn off the lamp beside my bed. I close my eyes and try to think of nothing. Especially not Nate’s window and the fact that I’m not there to keep an eye on it. I can do this. I just need to relax and I’ll fall asleep in no—