A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) (22 page)

“I was just joking.”

I lean closer and say, “So was I.” It wasn’t my first reaction, but in that split second before responding, I decided not to be the stuttering, embarrassed school girl. My face didn’t seem to get the message, though, and I’m glad there isn’t enough light down here for Chase to see the heat in my cheeks.

He lifts his arm and places his hand over mine. “I like you, Calla. If I had to fall into another chasm with someone, I think I might choose you.”

Aware that he’s most likely making fun of me again, I place my other hand over his and say, “Well, now, that is just the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He laughs, which is a good indication that he’s almost fully healed. I laugh too, although it isn’t quite genuine, because of all the things that have ever been said to me, it probably is one of the nicest. And that’s kind of a sad thought.

The sound of falling rocks brings our laughter to a sudden end. I extinguish my ball of light and look further down the gorge. In the dim light, I see a skinny shape moving upstream, splashing as it goes, kicking rocks here and there.

“Here we go again,” Chase mutters as he sits up. He peers through the semi-darkness. “At least it isn’t a towering minotaur. Whatever it is, we should be able to get rid of it easily.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t mean us any harm. It looks quite preoccupied with its own business.”

“You,” Chase says, “are so naive. Everything here is harmful. It probably wants to strangle us and eat our brains for dinner.”

“How graphic,” I comment. “And cynical.”

“I have reason to be.” He moves to stand up, but I put my hand on his arm.

“Don’t. Let me project a simple illusion. The creature won’t even know we’re here.”

Chase relaxes and nods. “Sounds sensible.”

I’m tired from my body’s efforts to heal itself, so a simple illusion is all I’ve got energy for. Thankfully, in this situation, it’s all that’s needed. I imagine the area we’re sitting on and the rock behind us. I picture the scene as it would be if we weren’t here. I hold the image in my mind as the creature passes us. It’s about half my height and appears lizard-like, walking on its hind legs instead of crawling. It makes an odd humming sound as it splashes through the water. It keeps moving, and Chase and I remain silent until we can no longer see it.

“Look at that, Mr. Cynic,” I say to him, nudging his arm. “Off it goes on its own merry way.”

“That doesn’t prove it isn’t harmful, Miss Naiveté. It might still have eaten us if it knew we were here.”

“Miss Naiveté?” I shake my head and stare down at my lap. “I’m not nearly as naive as you think I am. I just like to assume someone is innocent until they prove to be otherwise.”

“And almost everyone
does
prove to be otherwise.” Chase tilts his head down, trying to meet my gaze. “Don’t you know what the world is like?”

I lock down the barriers of my mind as images of a dungeon filled with hanging cages and wailing prisoners surface from the depths of my memory. “I know exactly what the world is like,” I say quietly. “I know the evil that exists. I know the terrible things people do to each other. I’ve lived it. I’ve
survived
it. But just because I’ve seen the palette of dark colors doesn’t mean I have to paint the rest of my world that way. I can choose the bright colors instead. I can see them, paint them, draw them, surround myself with them like a loud, glorious song drowning out all the darkness in the world.” I look up at him. “You know?”

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t know. But I wish I did.”

His words make no sense to me. “But … you do. I’ve seen your paintings. They’re life and light and joy. You can’t possibly create masterpieces like that and tell me you know nothing of the beauty in the world.”

“That isn’t what I mean. What I mean is …” He rubs a hand across his brow. “There is too much darkness, and no matter how much life and light and joy I paint, I can never drown it out.”

The way he sounds—so somber, so despondent—reminds me of the Chase I saw when I traveled back in time. The Chase who said nothing would ever be all right again. “Why do you—”

“We should get moving,” Chase says, standing suddenly. “I feel fine now. Told you my body was great at healing itself.”

“Uh, okay.” I climb to my feet as Chase examines his amber.

“Damn, I should have checked this earlier. Gaius released the owls into the labyrinth two hours ago. An hour ago he sent another message saying the owls returned with nothing.”

“That’s weird.”

“It is. Those owls have never failed me before.”

“Perhaps we fell too far down for them to detect us.”

“Or perhaps,” Chase says, “we’re not inside the labyrinth anymore.” He pulls out his stylus and writes a doorway spell against the rock wall. The surface melts away to reveal a doorway into the faerie paths.

“Yes!” I clap my hands.

“We can stop by your home first,” Chase says, grasping my wrist loosely as we walk into the darkness. “That way your mother has no reason to panic.”

“No, we need to check your tattoo studio, remember? Besides, Mom thinks I’m out until later. I don’t need to get back immediately.”

“Okay. But if she somehow missed your message and
is
expecting you, don’t blame me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

We walk out of the faerie paths into the back room of Wickedly Inked to find it in the same state we left it in: not much damage aside from the broken chair. Saber obviously didn’t come back here after dumping us in the labyrinth. In the bright light, I’m far more aware of the blood dried on my hands and streaked across my clothing. I touch the back of my head and feel strands of hair crusted together.

“You look terrible,” Chase says.

“Thanks. You don’t look so great yourself.” The back of his head, neck and coat are covered in half-dried blood.

He leans against a counter and gestures toward me. “Are you planning to go home looking like that?”

“You know, that kinda sounds like the reverse of what my mother says when I want to go out wearing something she doesn’t approve of.”

He smiles at his feet. “Sorry, I just don’t want you getting in trouble. If I had ever arrived home looking like that, my parents wouldn’t have let me out the house again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. This definitely qualifies for panic mode in my mother’s eyes.”

Chase slides his hands into his coat pockets. “You can clean up at my place if you want.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” My only other option is Ryn’s house, and, while Ryn wouldn’t panic like Mom, he would definitely ask questions.

“Great.” Chase pulls out his amber. “Let me just tell Gaius we’re both fine. Then we can go.”

* * *

I soak in the pool in Chase’s bathing room while my dirty clothes, laid out flat on the grass-enchanted floor beside me, are slowly cleaned and dried by a laundry spell. It isn’t a spell I’m particularly proficient at, since Mom’s the one who does most of the laundry at home, but I think it’ll remove most of the blood I somehow managed to wipe all over my clothing.

“Stop hogging the pool,” Chase calls from outside the door, startling me. “You’re not the only one who needs to clean up.”

“Sorry!” I shout. “Almost done.”

He uses the bathing room when I’m finished, and I discover more of his paintings and sketches while he’s busy. He has a small home—living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathing room—and every room is filled with his work. I’m sitting at the desk in the living room examining a rough sketch of a minotaur—which I assume he did while I was in the pool—when he walks into the room.

“Oh, you’re still here. I thought you might have gone home by now.”

I stand. “It would be rude to leave without saying goodbye, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose it would.”

“Well, anyway, thanks again. For—well, for a number of things now.” Like earlier, I shake his hand.

“Happy to help,” he says with a shrug. “If you need my assistance with anything in the future …”

“I’ll know where to find you,” I say with a smile. I realize our hands are still clasped, and I step away before the moment becomes awkward. I check the barrier around my mind so I don’t project anything embarrassing, like the unsettling wish that I could hug him goodbye instead of simply shaking hands. Then I open a doorway and send myself home.

There’s still a smile on my lips as I walk out of the faerie paths and into the kitchen at home. A smile that vanishes the moment I see the upturned table and smashed dinner plates. For a frozen moment, I stand there, my eyes darting around as fear and adrenaline course through me. I grab a throwing star in one hand and a knife in the other.

I step silently over the debris. The kitchen door is half open. In the visible slice of living room, I see ripped cushions, dark soil spilling from a fallen flowerpot—and a slender arm stretched out across the floor.

“Mom!”

I abandon all efforts at stealth and rush into the living room. Amidst the wreckage of overturned furniture and shattered belongings, lying motionless and silent, are my parents.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Chaos.

“Of course they’re connected! Why would two unrelated criminals attack the same household in the space of a month?”

“She’s still breathing, but I can’t wake her up.”

“Maroon, yes. And a scar on his left cheek. See if anyone knows anything Underground.”

Ryn is arguing with several guardians while three healers kneel on the floor attending to Mom and Dad. Violet has her arm around me as she speaks quietly into a mirror to one of her reptiscillan contacts.

I wish they’d all shut up. I wish they’d let me near my parents. I wish I could
do
something. Instead I’m sitting on the edge of an upside-down couch as that image—that image I will
never be rid of
—torments me: Mom and Dad lying with limbs bent at uncomfortable angles, a knife within Dad’s limp grasp, the stuffing from a cushion forming a puffy halo above Mom’s head, and a small glass bottle lying between them.

“Excuse me.” I blink and find one of the healers standing in front of me. She looks over her shoulder and adds, “Mr. Larkenwood?”

Ryn abandons his argument and hurries to my side. “Yes? What did you find? Will they be okay?”

“Your father appears to have been stunned. He should be awake and fine within a few hours. Your mother …” The healer turns her gaze to me. “We can’t find anything wrong with her, but we can’t wake her. She needs to be taken to a healing institute so—”

“There’s a healing wing attached to the Guild in Creepy Hollow,” Ryn says. “Can you take her there?”

“Certainly.

“And my father as well, in case he requires further healing when he wakes.”

The healer woman nods before returning to Mom and Dad.

“Cal, you can stay with us tonight,” Ryn says.

I nod numbly. Ryn steps away, but I catch his arm. “What if … what if she doesn’t get better?” Guilt fills me as all the negative words I’ve ever applied to my mother rise to the surface of my mind—crazy, weak, overprotective, silly, narrow-minded. What if I never get to say anything nice to her ever again? What if I can never tell her how much I actually love her?

Ryn turns back and catches my hand in his. His gaze is determined, unblinking. “She will be.”

* * *

I sit on Ryn and Vi’s couch with a blanket over my knees and a sketch pad on my lap. I doodle absently as my mind wanders from random thought to random thought. It was so warm only a few days ago, but now a slight chill in the air attests to autumn’s arrival.
Summer doesn’t last forever
, I tell myself as my pencil scratches an image of a sun falling from the sky. I wonder if the enchanted storm is over. Everyone at the Guild was so worried about it. Swirling clouds, thrashing rain, a sky painted in shades of anger. Ryn hasn’t said a word about it, so I assume it isn’t a real threat. Black droplets of rain along the edge of my page morph into a vine of thorns. I forgot to ask Chase if that was a permanent tattoo or if it will disappear like the pegasus on his other arm. What is he doing right now? He needn’t have worried about me getting in trouble with my mother. I might never be in trouble with her again—

Stop. Don’t think like that. She’s going to be—

Mom.

Lying on the floor.

Her chest barely moving.

I push the sketch pad aside and stand up. The blanket falls to the floor, but I ignore it. I pace the living room, because I can’t think of anything else to do. I’ve tried to distract my mind over and over, and it never lasts for long. Ryn and Vi are in the kitchen, discussing who knows what. They have each other, and I have no one. No friends to call. No one who knows me well enough to care about this. No one I want to sit and talk to.

Well, except perhaps for—

A loud knocking interrupts my pacing. Ryn strides into the living room a moment later. He opens a section of the wall, and in walks my father. I run into his arms, and he hugs me tightly. “What happened, Dad?” I ask when I step back. “Was it the same guy as before? Is Mom going to be okay? Do they know what’s wrong with her yet?”