Glimmerglass f-1

by Jenna Black

  Ethan leaned against the railing, looking out into Faerie, and I leaned my back against it, looking at the inn.

  “I had to wake the innkeeper up to get a room,” Ethan said. “We should give him a quarter hour to get back to bed before we go in.”

  I snorted. “What makes you think we’re going in together?”

  “Because I’m not putting you in that room until I’ve checked it out myself and made absolutely sure it’s safe. And I’ve got the key.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “You think maybe Aunt Grace is hiding under one of the beds?”

  It was pretty dark, so I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he actually blushed at that.

  “Guess I’m being paranoid,” he said. But I couldn’t help wondering if he’d had hopes for what would happen if we were alone in a cozy bedroom together.

  I held out my hand. “Give me the key.”

  He put something in my hand, but it wasn’t the key, it was a cell phone. “I programmed my home number into it. And Kimber’s home and cell are both there, too. If you have any trouble whatsoever, or if something makes you nervous, give one of us a call. Preferably me, since I can spell myself invisible and get here without leading anyone else to you. But I’ll understand if I’m not your first choice after…” He shrugged.

  “Thanks,” I said, tucking the cell phone into my pants pocket. “Now give me the key.”

  There was no missing how reluctant he was, but he handed the key over anyway. “It’s room 201, right at the head of the stairs. Please don’t leave the room until you’ve heard from Kimber or me. If your dad is still in jail, we’ll try to find a better place for you to stay. This inn is pretty out of the way, but I had to secure the room with my credit card. If someone gets hold of credit card records—which doesn’t seem like much of a stretch for Grace—then my putting a hotel room on it will be like a big, blinking billboard shouting ‘Dana is here!’”

  Oh, goodie. One more thing to worry about. But tonight, I was too exhausted to waste energy on any more worrying.

  I gave Ethan a brief nod in place of a good-bye, then crossed the street and went into the inn without a backward glance.

  I slept like the dead that night. Which was a good thing, because if I hadn’t, I’d have been obsessing, but not about the right thing.

  I figured I had every right to obsess about my situation, about my fears for the future, about whom I should trust. But when I woke up the next morning, what was the first thing I found myself thinking about? Ethan’s kiss. Has anyone seen my sense of proportion anywhere? Because I’d obviously lost it.

  I tried not to think about it as I did the pre-coffee shuffle-walk to the bathroom. Then I tried not to think of it as I showered and brushed my teeth. I tried once again when I was getting dressed—still wearing Kimber’s castoffs, because, of course, I had nothing to my name.

  Obviously, trying not to think about it, to wonder how much of my enjoyment had come from me and how much from the spell, to wonder whether I’d overreacted, wasn’t going to work when my mind had nothing else to focus on. So I decided to focus my thoughts elsewhere.

  I dug Ethan’s cell phone out of my pocket, then stared at it for a long, indecisive moment before dialing my mother’s number. Yeah, it was oh-dark-thirty back in the States, but I didn’t think she’d mind. I also didn’t think she’d be able to help me—it’s hard to get a heck of a lot accomplished when your brain is sloshing around in a pool of alcohol. But it would be nice to hear a familiar voice, even if she did spend the entire call screaming at me, which I fully expected.

  Foolishly optimistic of me to think I’d get an answer. She was probably pretty upset about me running away like that, and I knew what my mom did when she was upset. I wondered how long this bender was going to last.

  I hung up without leaving a message. What would be the point?

  I glanced at the clock. It was a little after nine, and I had no idea when I’d be hearing from Ethan and Kimber. Kimber had told me my dad was coming up before the Council sometime today. It was too early to hope he’d be home by now, even if the Council saw him first thing.

  I reached under the neck of my shirt and ran my fingers over the cameo. In all the … excitement last night, I’d forgotten about how it had heated up once again. It felt cool and normal now. Maybe it was like a mood ring. I tried to think of all the times I’d felt the strange heat, and a pattern started to emerge: every time it had heated up, someone near me was using magic. I hadn’t noticed it every time magic was used, but then it was only in contact with my skin when I tucked it under the collar of my shirt.

  I frowned. The very first time I’d noticed the cameo getting hot was when I’d been singing in the cell beneath Lachlan’s bakery. Maybe there had been magic at work then and I just hadn’t known about it. Or maybe I was just making up a pattern where one didn’t exist. After all, I couldn’t specifically remember whether the cameo had been over or under my shirt all those times I hadn’t felt the heat when magic was used.

  Even though I’d just decided it was too early even to hope my dad was out of jail, I picked up the phone again and dialed his number. After all, it didn’t hurt to try.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  I was so surprised that for a moment I couldn’t answer. Had I really just gotten that lucky? Or had the story about him being in jail been a big fat lie? “Hi, Dad,” I said when I found my voice.

  “Dana!” His cry was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Where are you? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  I swallowed hard, wishing I could quiet the alarm bells that were clanging in my head.

  “Aunt Grace locked me up in a dungeon,” I said. It was a slight exaggeration. The room she’d locked me in had been quite comfortable, but still …

  Dad sighed heavily. “Dana, honey, I’m so sorry. I should have known she’d pull something like that, but I sometimes have a blind spot where she’s concerned. She wouldn’t have hurt you, though. That I’m sure of. And I would have found you before long and gotten you out of there.”

  “Well someone else got me out of there first, and I have to admit I’m feeling gun-shy.”

  “I can’t imagine how you wouldn’t after what you’ve been through. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you immediately.”

  I yearned to just blurt out my location, to let my dad come get me and take care of me, make all the bad stuff go away. But, biological connection or not, he was a stranger to me, and I wanted some answers before I ran headlong into his arms. “Aunt Grace told me you were in jail.” I tried not to make it sound like some kind of accusation.

  “I’m afraid that’s true,” he admitted. “I suspect Grace engineered it, to make sure she could get to you before I could.”

  A lump formed in my throat, because instinct—or cynicism—told me I wasn’t going to like the answer to my next question. “When did you get out?”

  “Just yesterday,” he said, and despite having anticipated the answer, my knees gave out and I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been searching for you since the moment I was free,” Dad continued. “Grace said Lachlan was attacked and you were kidnapped. I knew bringing you here would cause some drama, but never anything like this. I’m so sorry.”

  Yesterday, I had told Kimber a secret I’d never told anyone before. I’d actually allowed myself to trust her. And the whole time, she’d been lying to me, just pretending to be my friend so she could keep me away from my father. The knowledge made me ache from head to toe. All my habitual caution, and I’d fallen for her act hook, line, and sinker.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened,” I said, my voice raspy with the tears I refused to shed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding exactly how a concerned dad was supposed to sound. Was his concern an act, too? Would anyone in all of Avalon tell me the truth about anything?

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  Dad hesitated. Any idiot
would be able to tell from my voice that I was anything but fine, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it now. Maybe I never would be. Thankfully, he let it pass.

  “Let me come get you,” he said. “We can talk more in person.”

  “I’m at the Stone’s Throw Inn,” I said. “Room 201.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes at the most.”

  “Okay.” I closed Ethan’s phone without saying good-bye, leaving it on the nightstand.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The fifteen minutes I spent waiting for my dad to arrive provided me with ample time to wonder how my meeting him was going to shake out. Everyone I’d met in Avalon so far had lied to me, and in a way, my dad was one of them. After all, he’d sent me the cameo without telling me wearing it would be like saying I root for Team Seelie. And I’d always wondered why he’d sent for me as he did without once asking if my mom was okay with it. I’d been willing to overlook that little detail because I’d wanted what he was offering so badly, but now I thought I should have asked more questions.

  I thought I’d hear my dad’s footsteps on the wooden stairs before he arrived at my door, but I didn’t. His sudden knock made me jump and gasp, and at first I didn’t answer him, my feet practically frozen to the floor.

  “Dana?” he asked. “Are you all right, honey?”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants. Then I unlocked the door and swung it open wide, getting my first glimpse of my father.

  The Fae, once they’ve reached adulthood, at least, are ageless. Intellectually, I knew that. But it didn’t lessen the shock of opening the door to a man I knew was my father and seeing someone who could have passed for twenty-five.

  He had a typical Fae build, tall and slender, but he exuded a sense of wiry strength. His hair was very blond, cropped short around his aristocratic face. His eyes were the same cold blue as Grace’s—and mine, for that matter—but there was a kind of … weight to them that made him look older. Despite the youthful appearance of his face, his eyes were not those of a young man.

  “Dana,” he said, his voice sounding almost awed as he looked me up and down. I felt like I was being inspected, but since I was doing the same to him, I could hardly complain.

  For a moment, I thought he was going to hug me, and I tensed. I’m not a real touchy-feely person in the best of times, which these weren’t.

  I was more relieved than I could say when he reached out his hand for me to shake instead. Ah, the famed Fae reserve. I’d almost forgotten about it, since Ethan didn’t fit the mold.

  I shied away from thoughts of Ethan.

  “Hi, Dad,” I said, feeling inexplicably weird calling him that. It hadn’t felt so weird on the phone.

  “My poor child,” he said softly, giving my hand a firm squeeze. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these last few days.”

  I shuddered. No, he probably couldn’t.

  “Let’s get you home,” he continued. “I’ve collected your suitcase and your laptop from Grace.” He smiled. “I suspect you’ll be more comfortable in your own clothes.”

  “Before we go,” I said, “I’d like to ask you something.”

  He nodded gravely. “All right.”

  “Why were you so eager for me to come to Avalon?”

  He blinked in surprise. “I discover I have a daughter whom I’ve never met, and it’s a surprise that I would want to meet you?” he asked incredulously.

  “But you never even asked about my mom. You never thought it was funny that you only ever talked to me about the plans. There’s more to it than just wanting to meet me.” My throat tightened, but I think I managed to keep the pain of that declaration out of my voice.

  Dad sighed. “Dana, I knew what it meant that your mother disappeared from my life without telling me she was pregnant. I knew it meant she wanted to keep you away from me. From the first time you and I talked, I knew you were going behind her back, and she would have stopped you if she’d known.”

  It sounded plausible, I had to admit. But if there was one thing I knew for sure now, it was that all my mom’s warnings about my difficult place in Avalon politics were true. Maybe my dad really was eager to meet his long-lost daughter just for my own sake, but I didn’t think so.

  “So your wanting to meet me has nothing to do with you wanting to be Consul and me maybe being a Faeriewalker.”

  Ethan and Kimber had lied about a lot of things, but I could see right away from the look on his face that this wasn’t one of them. This silence was even longer than the last. When he finally broke the silence, I could tell he was picking his words with great care.

  “I understand that my position might make it hard for you to trust my motives. Yes, I would like to be Consul. But I wanted to meet you because you’re my daughter, not because you were part of my political ambitions.”

  My throat tightened again. He was telling me exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted it to be true so, so badly.

  Dad pursed his lips. “I’m going to make an educated guess that it was the so-called Student Underground who kidnapped you. Am I right?”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “Since I called from Ethan’s cell phone, I’d say that guess was very educated.”

  He nodded. “Indeed. And how much did Ethan tell you about himself and his Underground?”

  Oh, God. Please tell me I wasn’t about to hear something else I’d rather not know!

  “I’ll take your silence to mean you don’t know much,” Dad said. “Ethan is the son of Alistair Leigh, who is the leading Unseelie candidate for Consul. Naturally, Ethan and his Underground support Alistair’s candidacy, so whatever he may have told you about me could well be colored by his own political leanings.”

  Yep, that was something else I’d rather not have known.

  So that’s why Ethan was so interested in a not-particularly-attractive, half-blood high-school girl. Not because he’d fallen in love with me at first sight. Bad enough to think he’d wanted me as just another notch on his bedpost, but to think he’d tried to seduce me for cold-blooded political purposes was unbearable.

  How I wished I’d held strong last night and not let him kiss me. My mouth tasted sour, and at that moment I pretty much hated him. He’d ruined my first kiss!

  I remembered how hard Kimber had tried to convince me that Ethan wasn’t good for me. She’d even told me he was attracted to my power. She’d tried her best to warn me without actually explaining what she was warning me about. Too bad she’d been busy stabbing me in the back while she’d been “helping” me.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined to deal with my heartbreak later. I couldn’t put my faith in Ethan or Kimber anymore; I’d never even considered putting my faith in Aunt Grace; and even if I’d wanted to put my faith in my mom, she wasn’t answering the phone. There was a limit to how much faith I could put in anyone, but my father, the stranger, sounded like the best deal available.

  “Can we get out of here now?” I asked, and my dad, with a look of sympathy in his eyes, agreed.

  The Stone’s Throw Inn was situated relatively low on the slopes of the mountain, and I was glad Dad had brought his car, a racy little red number that I guessed was an Italian sports car of some sort. You know: the kind that wouldn’t be caught dead doing something so crass as putting the make and model where just anyone could see them. The bucket seats were so low I felt like my butt would hit the pavement if we went over a speed bump. Not that I’d seen any sign of speed bumps anywhere in Avalon, but you get the idea.

  Dad laughed as he climbed in. “I know, it’s a bit excessive for use in Avalon,” he said, patting the dashboard like it was his pet dog. “I’d love to be able to drive out into the mortal world and see how fast it can really go.”

  The engine purred as he started the car and pulled out of his parking space onto the steep, curving road that would take us higher up the mountain.

  “I think you’d
get a handful of speeding tickets before you ever found out,” I muttered, feeling the car’s quiet power as it accelerated effortlessly despite the steepness of the road.

  He laughed. “Most likely.”

  I didn’t know what the speed limit was in Avalon—there never seemed to be any signs—but I bet my dad was breaking it as he zipped up the road. I tried not to white-knuckle the door handle as we zoomed around the curves. In an ill-advised moment, I glanced out the side window. On this bright, clear day I could see for miles. Unfortunately, I was seeing miles and miles of deep green forest. Faerie.

  I turned away without blinking. The too-fast car ride was hard enough on my stomach without adding the nausea-inducing view through the Glimmerglass. When I faced front again, I caught my dad’s sideways glance, and I fully expected him to ask me what I saw. But he didn’t, and I was relieved. I really didn’t want to talk about the whole Faeriewalker thing right now.

  Dad’s house was nowhere near as quaint as Aunt Grace’s. The entire bottom floor was a two-car garage—but in the space that would hold the second car, there was a horse stall instead. It was empty at the moment, the floor clear of straw, but a faint barn scent in the air told me the stall wasn’t just for show. Did that mean Dad made frequent trips into Faerie?

  We had to take a spiral staircase to get up to the second floor, where the actual living area began. Moving in and out of this place must be a nightmare. (Says the girl who’s had to go through the torture of moving enough times to know.) Even carrying a suitcase up and down those stairs would be something of a challenge.

  When we emerged from the staircase, we were in a spacious living room, with a tiny kitchen tucked into one corner. The entire wall facing the street was floor-to-ceiling windows. I tried to avoid seeing the view—you know, that whole seeing into two worlds thing—though I guessed it was spectacular. Instead, I looked around the living room, trying to get a sense of the man who was my father from the look of his home.

  The stereotype of the Fae is that they’re old-fashioned (mostly because the vast majority of them are about a jillion years old). Grace’s house and Kimber’s apartment had both fit the stereotype with their antiques and conservative decor. Dad’s place did not look like the kind of house a Fae should live in. Not with those big, modern windows, or the modern art on the wall, or the Danish modern furniture. I’d always hated Danish modern, but that was my mom’s favorite, and I was beginning to guess why.