“Oh, Miss Canary?” She didn’t make it clear that she was the Queen of Ellevil. What else is she hiding? “Yeah, she gave me the rose when I was—”
“When you were five.”
“How did you know that?”
Christian walks over to my dresser, opening it. He takes out a glowing rose with light green markings swirling around its dark green stem. “Because I was given the same one at that age too. We met earlier than you think.”
This is the kid that was hiding behind her door. He didn’t come off as shy or angry, yet sadness filled his eyes.
“I didn’t give it to you; I dropped it that night.”
“Why were you running away in the first place?”
“I was running from someone.”
Before I can ask him who, thunder claps outside the room, followed by a flash of lightning.
Christian steps toward the door, opening it. “Follow me,” he says, glancing at the window. “I want to show you something.”
What if Donovan sees me sneaking out of the castle with the elf? He’d think I’m a traitor like Mellissa thought of Alec Verel. I don’t know if Christian is corrupt or not; he could be pure like the rest of the elves here. Sometimes Donovan can be on the fence about things like this.
I step out of my room and see the door to his room is open, the golden light seeping out. The hallways are dark and the tiny lights on the ceilings are the only things that guide us around. Donovan’s door closes.
“Hey, are you okay? Not going to go all crazy on me again, are you?” Christian stands next to me, and I can’t help realizing how tall and slim he is. One thing that’s noticeable is his eyes; they’re glowing in this darkness.
“Can you see?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’s not necessarily night vision. It’s an elf thing that keeps us alive in the woods.”
He clears his throat, holding my hand, walking me through the hallway. I catch another pair of light green eyes scurrying off into a room with their tattoos glowing. The storm outside is picking back up.
“Where are we going? What does this have to do with the rose?”
He chuckles. We approach a thick door deep in the depths of this elven castle. He glances at me.
He presses his palms on the wood, and the tiny cracks on the door light up green. He pushes against the entrance, wind blowing in our faces. I don’t think we’ll make it to wherever he’s taking me without getting drenched. The same fresh mint smell enters through my nostrils. Christian grabs my hand again, and we run across a field of short grass this time, thunder roaring above us.
Wetness sprays on top of my head; I glance up at the clouds crying. Our touch freezes. He’s holding my left hand. His markings on his wrist burst with light, followed by mine too; we’ve made a connection. Followed by this burst is the freezing sensation. I don’t know if Christian feels the same. I glance at the castle fading away.
Christian tugs on my arm. “We’re close.” We end up in front of another forest, only this time the green and light blue leaves sparkle, blowing in the wind.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my treehouse.”
“Are you kidding me?”
The rain picks up, and a slim line of wetness trickles down the side of his nose. He glances behind me. I’m afraid perhaps Donovan has followed us out here. “Do you dare follow an elf into the woods?” He splays his fingers in the air at me, making fun of what witches say.
“I did it before, didn’t I?” I press on his chest, pushing him back on a tree, and step by him into the forest, walking backward. My markings are lighting up. My boots are wet from the rain, and the leaves droop in sadness from the weight of the water. My elf shirt soaks up the water, and I touch the fabric only to find that it isn’t wet. I look up at Christian.
“It’s a special material we use since we’re always in the forest,” he explains.
“Pretty smart.”
He lifts his eyebrows, walking ahead of me.
“So where’s this tree house of yours?”
He whirls around, placing his index finger on his lips and showing his sharp teeth.
I walk through the forest silently, feeling the light rain on the back of my neck trickling down my spine. I move the ferns and large plants out of my face. Golden and green lights beam in front of me; there is nothing but a flat field of four-leaf clovers. The lights are coming off of them; there’re colors on top of their tiny green heads. I wonder if Christian sees the same. He’s hanging from a branch like a bat now.
“You’re always in a tree,” I say.
He drops down, grinning at me. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He walks me over to the cottage that’s in a tree across the field. This tree is alone in this field; it’s wide and looks intimidating to climb. I scan the markings on his calves as he runs over to the tree, and I follow him. Digging his fingers into the thick bark, he climbs effortlessly up and into his woody home.
“Hey, I’d like to get out of this rain too, ya’ know.” He stands in his doorway, dropping a rope for me to cling on. “I didn’t ace the rope climbing test in gym.”
“I’ve got you. It’s either that or stay out in the rain.” Thunder claps from behind me; I walk over to the window missing a glimpse of the lightning. He crosses his arms and waits, holding the rope. I wrap my soaked fingers around its spiral.
“It’s wet. What if I drop, Christian?”
“Why do I have to always tell you, I’ve got you?”
“But you’re a mystical elf and can’t be trusted!”
“I’m not going to take that as an insult, because it’s true we are tricky beings. It’s in our nature.” He flicks the rope, and it slaps the side of my cheek.
I glare up at him. “What was that for?”
“I don’t want you to get sick, so hurry up and get on the rope, woman.”
I wrap my fingers around it, trying to climb, and he lifts me up with no struggle.
“Don’t look down. Check out my flawless face.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Don’t hate me if I lose my grip.”
“If you—”
The rope jerks and I drop with a scream, waiting to hit the ground. Instead, I land on wood. I open my eyes to see him smirking. He grips my waist, whirling me around into a hug.
“Christian: one. Eliza: zero,” he says.
“Thanks.” I walk inside the home, where a couch is perfectly placed in the center of the room in front of a roaring fireplace.
“Aren’t you worried this place may burn down?”
He walks over, sticking his hand into the burning flames, then turns it around to show me that he is not burned.
“How is that possible?”
“Because it’s an illusion. If you perceive it to warm you, then it will. If you don’t then you’ll stay cold.”
It’s truly amazing how elves have this ability to reform and shape your imagination to fit whatever they want.
The smell of the forest pervades my senses, and I notice the clovers from outside on his counters right underneath the candles he has placed sporadically. There is another doorway where I guess the kitchen is. The Ellevil castle isn’t too far from where this safe haven is.
“It’s not much. I’ve built it to, I don’t know, get away.” Christian sits in his little house, his pointy ears twitching with the sound of the rain on the roof.
“You’ve built this on your own?”
“Yeah. I have a lot of free time.”
“Well, it’s amazing.” I step across the log flooring, sitting next to him on his couch. “Why would you want to get away? There’s no risk here. You mystics are hidden from any danger.”
He frowns. “You’ll find that many elves don’t like to be labeled as mystics. It’s a derogative name witches give to the many peaceful creatures they kill.”
“We only kill corrupt ones and any that are causing havoc. If they happen to be pure, then…”
“Then what? You’re going to kill them too?”
The sound of the trees swaying harshly in the wind enters my ears; it’s like we’re in the eye of the storm.
“I understand that it’s what you’re born to do, but sometimes everyone isn’t as evil as they may seem.”
“That must be why you dropped the rose on purpose.”
“I told you it was by accident.”
“You and I both know it wasn’t.” He looks away from me for a minute and says, “Terese told me you’d be here and sent me in the woods to fetch you safely.”
“So you weren’t running away from someone then?”
“Some elves I don’t get along with were in the woods as well.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying again or not. His face is serious, so I’m not sure. I didn’t see any other elf in the forest, only Christian.
“Elves don’t get along peacefully?”
He gets up and walks over to his doorway. “Not the ones here. They don’t like me all that well.”
“Why not?”
“They think Terese favors me too much.”
“So they’re jealous of you.”
He looks at me. “Pretty much.”
“It’s something they see in you, wishing they’d have it…” I know this all too well. It reminds me of the time Dawn and I weren’t friends. In middle school, she’d always be so perfect and would have any guy she’d desire. I was nothing but a freckled mess with monstrous hair. It was time for lunch, and there were tables everywhere to sit and eat, but they were all full with students chatting and having fun. I hated lunch. It wasn’t a time of fun for me, because no one wanted to sit with Liza the Lion—her hair might get in your food. I would be forced to sit alone or escape to the library and read books. Until Dawn came into my life. She was so kind to sit with me one day at a table. I was jealous of how beautiful she was; her perfect smile brightened the mood on anyone’s dark days. She was friendly and she had seen me sit alone for months and decided to help me build confidence. She was innocent; her heart was truly pure.
The striking thunder snaps me out of my reverie, and I glance over at Christian. He is leaning against the wall of his treehouse, playing with a twig in his mouth.
“Yeah, I don’t pay much mind to it. I know I’m different than other elves.”
“What do you mean you’re different?”
“I get things done that others fear doing.” I notice the green markings around his body glow lighter for a second. “If you want, you can stay here for the night. I only wanted to show you my place.”
“I think I’ll be able to get back to the castle.”
“I really don’t want you to go, Eliza. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“If that was the problem, why did you bring me here in the first place?”
“To get you away from your witch friend,” he snaps.
“Witches aren’t always serious, remember?”
He chuckles and jumps out of the tree, landing gracefully on the ground, and runs into the trees, vanishing into the echoes of thunder.
Chapter 5
The smell of fungus, mold, and rotten flesh assails my nostrils. Something sharp and pointy is poking my forehead. I hear a loud squawk, then a painful poke wakes me up. A red-eyed crow is staring at me with its mouth open ready to scream once more.
I get up from the floor and not the couch I thought I fell asleep on. The crow squawks, flying out of the cottage window. I get myself up. The fireplace that was here before isn’t anything but rotten wood now. The glass in the kitchen is shattered, and everything around me is unorganized and damaged. This isn’t a cottage; it is an abandoned home.
I walk over to the doorway and look down; it’s not even as far up as I thought it was. Christian must’ve been inducing me into hallucinating once again. Why does he keep lying to me, trying to cover things up? I don’t understand. I leap from the house and step forward through the field of dead clovers. What was once beautifully green and gold is now a rusty brown, the trees are bare, and mud is swallowing my boots.
What did he do to me?
I sense something behind me; my markings are vibrating out of control. Throwing my hands up, I grabbed, twisting the wrist of my attacker, and cracked the bone. This is what I was waiting for, payback for tricking me into this dump. I wanted him to feel pain. I realize then it’s not Christian but some other elf, whose looking up at me oddly. Two other elves drop from the trees, and a third drops next to my side. I release the elf, who drops into the mud, and step back, my boots squishing deep into the muck.
“What are you doing in forbidden grounds, witch?”
“I was brought here,” I say, trying to walk away. I look up to see if the Ellevil castle is anywhere nearby; it isn’t. Someone grabs my arm from behind.
“Let go of me!”
“Or what? Gonna get your broomstick?” I remember that I don’t have it with me, and there’s no way I can take on four elves in this haunted forest.
“I just want to get back to where I came from.”
They’re closing in on me. The elf behind me tightens his grasp, his cold grip stinging me. I can’t let them trick me into an illusion. I force my head back against the elf’s chin. The impact is painful and throbs on the back of my head. It gives me enough time to break his hold of me, and I twirl around with a hard kick to his side, causing him to fly across the forest. I purse my lips at the other two elves, my hair whipping in front of my face, then take off running deep into the murky forest.
They’re running after me, and ahead of me two trees snap together, creating a wall. The elves throw out their hands, causing this to happen. I run to my right and a vine latches on to my left arm. Another vine clings on my right arm and I’m trapped. There are three elves walking in my direction, the fourth one struggling to catch up to the group of elves.
“Okay, boys,” I look between the three of them, “let’s have a little fun.” I twirl around in place, snapping the vines off from their source. I then grab the loose vines from the ground, using them as a weapon.
One of the elves climbs up into a tree and another sprints to my left. My main focus is on the one in front of me who chose not to run. I whip one of my vines in his direction.
He grabs the vine and pulls me in, and I manage to coil the second vine around his neck. In my grimoire, it says in order to kill an elf I need to pierce their heart. Looking around for something sharp, I notice a broken branch on the ground. I pull the elf in, jabbing my knee in his gut, and he drops.
The one elf who climbed into the tree is about to jump down on me. I unravel my vine from the elf in front of me and flick the long strand up into the air, sidestepping an attack. The vine wraps around the elf that fell from the tree, and I pull the mystic toward my boots.
I step on his chest, grabbing the sharp branch on the dirt beneath me. I jab my forest weapon right into the heart of the elf that looks up at me, and his eyes create a green burst as he fades away into green mist.
The leaves rustle together, and I look up to see the two elves running away deeper into the forest. I toss the vines into the overgrown ferns and plants and touch the rough wet bark beside me. There is no pink glow that lights in between its cracks; there aren’t any voices, because the forest I’m in isn’t alive.
In the muddy field Christian led me into last night, the tree looms over the wrecked little house. He mentioned that Miss Canary is the one behind him dropping the rose in the forest on purpose. The feeling I experienced that moment I picked it up was excruciating. If that’s how tattoos feel if I was to get one normally, then I’m far from interested in that art.
I can’t believe I allowed his words to pull me in the first place. God, am I really that much of a rookie?
I stop walking, holding my branch weapon up in front of my nose, when I hear the leaves rustling with movement. I circle around slowly, my heart thudding. I need to calm down; I hate being alone. I miss Jared, Dawn, and Mom; not one of them is here for me.
Please save me…
My vi
sion blurs and the trees fade into monstrous shadows. I’m overwhelmed, and the freezing sensation on my arms and body are causing a headache. I cover my eyes with my hands, falling to the ground.
“Rose! Rose, wake up.”
Someone with cold skin grips my chin, lifting my head up. “Rose, can you hear me?” Donovan’s icy blue eyes stare at me worriedly. He wipes specks of dirt from my cheek. I smell his familiar witch scent. He’s actually here with me. How did he find me?
“I’ve been looking for you.”
I’m so happy you found your rose in a dead forest.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he says.
He picks me up from the ground and carries me out of the forest.
“My name’s Eliza.” My vision is fading in and out.
“Rose, look at me. Don’t fall asleep.”
“It’s,” I cough, “Eliza.”
His voice is muffled, and I’m feeling number than I have ever been before. He brushes a lock of hair from my face. “Eliza, I didn’t know you had freckles.”
“They only appear when the weather changes,” I mumble.
“Can you do me a favor?”
I make a sound without opening my mouth.
“In a few minutes, we’re going to a party, but I have to give you a gift.”
“You never give me gifts.”
“You’re my rookie. I have to treat you once in a while.”
I hear sounds behind us, some on each side. I still haven’t opened my eyes completely.
“Are we at the party?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’ll be right back, okay?” He lays me down gently on grass. It’s green and not rusty brown. There’s a click of a button, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have my broomstick. The sound of clashing metal rings out, and branches breaking. I hear grunting, then sit up to see three elves circling Donovan. One of them disarms him and leaps behind him, choking him.
Donovan goes down, landing hard on his face. One elf wraps him up in roots and vines, chuckling. He slides his gaze toward me, forcing the elf from behind him to fall in front. Donovan rolls to his side, grabbing his broomstick and clicking it on into a dagger, but an elf kicks the weapon from his grip. He needs help or else he’ll die. I get up, full consciousness gradually returning. One of the elves is going to find me. I dart behind a large tree.
Mythical (The Mystical Series Book 2) Page 5