creepy hollow 05 - a faerie's revenge (9 page)

“Thank you,” he says with such sincerity that I know I’ve made the right decision. He looks around again—so do I, just to make sure there aren’t any surveillance bugs buzzing around—before grasping both my hands in his. “Come with me,” he says fervently.

“What?”

“Calla, these people … you don’t want to be one of them.”

“I do, Zed. That’s why I’m here.”

“There’s so much you’re not seeing,” he says with a slow shake of his head. “Guardians … the Guild … it’s all a very noble idea, but there’s so much wrong with the system. There are so many people to save every single day. How do they choose who’s worth it and who isn’t?”

“They save as many as they can.”

“They don’t. They abandoned us. Remember?
So many of us.
You got out, so you don’t know how bad it got after that.
The Guild
left us to that fate. These people you idolize.”

I want to tell him just how much I
don’t
idolize Olive and anyone else like her, but I need to stand by my commitment to the Guild. “I’m one of them, Zed. And if you hate them, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Calla. That’s precisely why I’m begging you to come with me. This is your last chance to—”

“Go.” I pull my hands out of his and step back. “Just go before someone figures out that you’re the guy who escaped.”

His expression is tortured, as though he honestly believes he’s leaving me to a terrible fate here amongst the guardians he’s grown to hate. But he doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t see all the good that comes out of this imperfect system. I know this is where I’m meant to be.

With a final nod, Zed turns and strolls away, pushing his hands back into his pockets, doing his best to look relaxed. I walk back to the training center and wait there for a while, giving him a chance to get away. Giving the guards a chance to recover from their waking nightmares. Giving myself time to smother my guilt.

CHAPTER

NINE

The ballroom is almost full by the time I arrive at Estellyn Tower. The Guilds host their Liberation Day celebrations at different venues every year—never at a Guild; that would pose too many security issues—and this year, the Creepy Hollow Guild has hired the ballroom on the second floor of Estellyn Tower. I remember what Olive said about there being far too much expense involved in celebrating Liberation Day, and I find I’m starting to agree with her. Or it could be the fact that I have negative associations with this place and I’d be happier if the ball were held pretty much
anywhere
else. Because all I can think of as I walk in here is the party I attended recently on the topmost level of this tower. The party Chase turned out to be at.

I find myself wishing,
wishing
with an intensity that hurts my chest that he was just a normal guy. Wishing that I could have invited him tonight, so that we might have walked in here together and admired the splendid decor and laughed at the outrageous costumes and danced until our feet hurt.

He is Draven
, I remind myself.
Draven. Not Chase.

I push aside my silly dreams and step into the ballroom. The decor enchantments have transformed the room into a jungle. Instead of walls, I see moss-covered trees and giant ferns and vines draped from one side of the room to the other. Mist creates a subtle haziness near the ceiling, adding to the mood along with the floating lanterns emanating yellow-green light. Musicians on a raised platform on one side of the room keep the music going, and the dance floor is already packed with couples spinning about.

People are dressed like creatures from all parts of the world, both human and fae. I run my hands self-consciously over my dress, hoping I look at least a little bit like a mermaid. That was the plan, but since I didn’t put much thought into it prior to this afternoon, it wasn’t exactly a detailed plan. My dress is a shimmering aquamarine color with a faint pattern of scales covering it, but the mermaid theme doesn’t extend much further than that. I tried to create a fishtail shape at the bottom of the dress, but it ended up being so tight I couldn’t move my legs. I also tried to create shoes that appeared to be made of water, but that proved to be far too complex as well. So in the end my dress is a simple style and my shoes are plain silver heels. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and braided it with blue-green ribbons. By that point I’d run out of time to construct a mask, so I finished off my blue eye makeup with some tiny crystals on my lashes and blue, green and purple sequins around my eyes and at the top of my cheekbones.

I look around for someone I recognize. Gemma told me she’d be late, so I don’t expect to see her here yet. Saskia is nearby, loudly showing off her new jewelry to a group of her friends. Whatever the jewelry is, I’m not close enough to see it. I get a good look at her outfit, though: a gorgeous red dress that shimmers like fiery coals, and a pair of leathery webbed wings. I think she’s meant to be a dragon.

I continue to look around, then twist my hands together as I start to feel awkward. I wonder if I should wait outside the ballroom, but then the current dance ends and Perry waltzes off the dance floor toward me. He looks ridiculous with butterfly wings protruding from his back and a mask the shape of a butterfly covering half his face. It’s definitely him, though—I can tell from his height and the green in his hair and, well, the fact that he looks absurd and proud of it. He does a twirl and a bow before reaching me, and I can’t help laughing as he straightens, takes my hand, and kisses it. “You’re making fun of this whole dress-up thing, aren’t you,” I say.

“Never,” he exclaims. “What makes you think that?”

“I wonder.” I reach up and flick his mask. “And were you dancing by yourself, or did I happen to miss your partner?”

“I was practicing,” he says, “for when the perfect partner comes along.”

“I see. Well, your outfit is extraordinary. I think you should win a prize for it.”

“Thank you.” Perry does another bow. “And may I say that you make a lovely fish, Calla.”

Indignant, I place my hands on my hips. “I’m not a fish. I’m a mermaid.”

“Oh, sorry, of course. My bad.” Perry laughs, but his smile falters as he focuses on something over my shoulder. “Is that Gemma?”

I turn and see a girl with a delicate silver filigreed mask covering the top part of her face. Her white feathered dress and the feather hair piece pinned into her dark hair make me think of a swan. The overall effect is stunning. “Yes, that is Gemma. And that—” my eyes move to the handsome guy on her arm “—is Mr. Perfect. Your competition.”

“That’s … whatever …” Perry splutters, but he pulls off his butterfly mask and stands a little straighter. Gemma and Rick walk over to us, and Gemma introduces him. She looks a little dazed, as though she’s just been handed all the riches of the Seelie Court and can’t quite believe it. Perry, on the other hand, can’t stop frowning. He greets Rick, then shoves both his hands into his pockets and remains silent. I realize it might be up to me to get the conversation going, but then Rick asks Gemma if she’d like to dance, and the two of them disappear into the crowd.

Beside me, Perry appears to deflate. I lean closer to him. “Still want to tell me it’s not obvious?”

He stares at his feet. “I suppose it is obvious. I only considered it recently, though, the night we came to that party here. I realized afterwards that of course I like her. Of course I don’t just want to be her friend. But it’s too late.” He jerks his head over his shoulder and adds, “How can I compete with that?”

“You don’t have to compete. Just be yourself and tell her how you really feel, and maybe it’ll turn out she feels the same way.”

He shrugs half-heartedly and lets out a loud sigh. He pushes his shoulders back and straightens. “Well, after rejection like that, all I have left are my dance moves. May I have this dance, Lady Calla?” He holds a hand out to me as I start laughing at him once more.

“Yes, I’d—” From the corner of my eye, I see Ryn, dressed for a regular day of work at the Guild, pushing past people and waving to me. “Um, in a minute. Looks like my brother needs me.”

“Ah, more rejection,” Perry says in anguished tones, pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. “My poor heart can barely stand it.”

“Your poor heart will be fine.” I pat his arm, give him a brief hug, and then meet Ryn near the doorway. “Hey, you’re not dressed up at all,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, but I won’t be staying long. I just needed to speak to you and a few other people before leaving.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

Ryn groans. “Vi had this
fabulous
idea. You know how she wants to keep working right up until the last second, and there are all these things going on at the Institute that she doesn’t want to miss out on just because she’s pregnant?”

“Yes. It seems to be the cause of every disagreement you guys have these days.”

“Right. So she suddenly came up with this plan to go to Kaleidos.”

“Kaleidos?” I absently play with the ribbons at the end of my braid. “The floating island Tilly’s from?”

“Yes. Time passes differently there, so Vi’s hoping she can get through most of her pregnancy on the island. She’s hoping that months there will only be weeks here and that she won’t miss out on too much of the real world.”

My hands fall to my sides. “That’s a terrible idea. The time difference is always changing, right? So what if it works out the other way around? Weeks there turn out to be months here? Then she’ll be missing even more than she would otherwise.”

Ryn crosses his arms. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“But she doesn’t agree with you?”

“She admits it’s not the best idea she’s ever had, but she still wants to see if it might work. We’re going just for this weekend as an experiment.”

“But what if it’s not just this weekend? What if you’re
there
for a weekend, but you miss out on weeks here?”

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on the time difference. Kaleidos has this system set up with people just inside the shimmer and people just outside it. They communicate every fifteen minutes or so to keep track of the time difference. That way they can see when it’s changing one way or the other, or speeding up or slowing down. And the Guild knows we’re going, of course. One has to get permission to travel on and off the island.”

“Oh.” I frown. “The stories Tilly tells about her childhood make it seem as though rules like that never existed.”

“Yes, well, Tilly and her brother always managed to find their own way off the island. They didn’t exactly follow the rules.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I’m sure that’s something you can identify with.”

Ryn groans. “Yes. Unfortunately, being grown-up and on the Guild Council means I’m supposed to at least
try
to stick to everyone’s rules these days.” He takes a deep breath and looks around the ballroom. “Anyway, Vi wants to leave immediately, so she’s at home packing. I just came to let you and a few other people know what’s going on.”

“Okay. Well I hope you don’t lose any time over the weekend.”

“I hope so too.” He hugs me, then adds, “And if your, uh,
friend
tries to get hold of you, let me know. Oh, wait. Messages don’t go through the Kaleidos shimmer.” Ryn frowns and scratches his head. “Just don’t do anything silly, okay?”

I roll my eyes. “He and I were friends for weeks without your knowledge. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Ryn nods, although he doesn’t look entirely convinced. He squeezes my arm and steps past me to speak to someone else.

“Ready for that dance?” Perry asks, appearing a second later as if he’s been waiting for the moment Ryn leaves. “The next one’s about to start and it’s my favorite.”

“Ok, okay.” I needn’t have bothered replying, since Perry’s already guiding me onto the dance floor as the music changes. “This is that one where we dance in rows, right? And we keep swapping partners?”

“Yes,” Perry says, his eyes fixed on someone further down the row we’ve just joined. I follow his gaze and see Gemma. I smile to myself as I realize exactly why he’s so eager for this dance. Someone near the end of the row counts us in, and then we all start moving. I concentrate on getting the steps right. I did dancing at junior school, like everyone else—it was compulsory; part of exercise class—but I haven’t practiced much since then. I falter a few times, as do several other people, but I manage to keep up with the hand movements and the twirling and the stepping to the side and then repeating it all with the next person in line.

My second partner is someone with sweaty hands and a stiff expression. He doesn’t smile once. I’m glad to step to the side and take the gloved hands of my third partner, a man whose face is fully concealed behind a tiger’s mask. He leads well, and I find it easy to keep up with him. I twist beneath his arm, his gloved hand slides smoothly over mine, and then I step to the side once more. My fourth partner is dressed in dark clothing with a black panther mask covering his face. Warm brown eyes smile at me from behind the mask. I can’t help smiling back.