The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) (9 page)

“Waiting obediently in the driveway.”

We reach the front of the house and Ryn lets go of my arm. “Is that him?” I ask, nodding my head in the direction of a young man leaning against a car.

“Yes. See you inside.” Ryn heads toward an older woman examining her makeup in a small hand mirror.

I walk carefully across the driveway toward my ‘date.’ He’s well built, with blonde hair that seems a little messy. When I’m almost in front of him, he looks up. “Uh, hi,” he says. His smile is friendly, but uncertain. He has no idea who I am.

Crap, what exactly did Ryn say to this guy? “Um, it’s me, Violet.”

The moment I say my name, his eyes glaze over for a second. Then he pushes away from the car and reaches for my hand. “You look gorgeous, babe. Did I tell you that earlier?” He places a kiss on my temple and slips his arm around my back. I try to pretend it doesn’t freak me out to have a stranger touching me like this. And why are the Harts inviting such a young guy to their dinner party? Shouldn’t all their friends be old?

We enter the house and my ‘boyfriend’—crap, what is his name?—steers me between the clusters of elegantly dressed people. Most of them are old, as I expected, but I spot a few younger ones. Ryn’s already found himself an attractive blonde woman to flirt with.

“You know, you could still make a run for it if you want,” says Nameless Guy. “You could always meet my parents another night.”

His parents?

“David!” I jump at the sound of Mrs. Hart’s voice. She hurries down the last few steps and comes toward us as fast as her loudly clicking high-heeled shoes will allow. “David, I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” She wraps her arms around him in a quick embrace, submerging us both in a cloud of strong perfume. “Did your father invite you?”

Ah, so this is the Harts’ youngest son, the one Mr. Hart spoke to on the phone yesterday morning. I look across the room, catch Ryn’s eye, and flash him a quick thumbs up.

“Yeah, Dad asked me to come.”

A crease forms between Mrs. Hart’s eyebrows. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, Mom.”

“But you’d tell me if there was something going on, wouldn’t you?”

“Trust me, Mom.” He takes hold of her shoulders and looks straight into her eyes. “I am not in any kind of trouble. Now I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.” He puts an arm around me and nudges me forward. “This is Violet.”

“Oh, hello.” She sweeps her gaze over my purple hair and eyes and plasters on a fake smile. “I had no idea David had a girlfriend.”

I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say to that, so I smile and try not to look too awkward.

“Well, I need to greet my guests,” she says to David. “Your father’s around somewhere.”

David watches as she
click-clicks
away, then says, “Sorry about that. My mom’s been weird to all the girls I’ve ever brought home.” He laces his fingers between mine and leads me to the edge of the room.

“So, there’ve been lots of girls, have there?” I try out a flirtatious smile.

“Uh . . .” He laughs guiltily. “Not that many.” He runs his fingers up and down the bare skin on my back—definitely a mistake to cast a dress that scoops so low—while I do my best not to shiver.

“So, why did your father ask you to come tonight? Did he need to talk to you about something important?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff he’s going through at the moment. You wouldn’t be interested.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Try me.”

He looks away, laughing quietly. “It’s pretty insane stuff. I don’t think you’d actually believe me.”

Oh yes, I will.
“I think you’ll find I’m quite open-minded,” I say, giving him my most enticing smile.

He turns to me, searching my face. He’s going to tell me, I know he is. “Um . . . no, I shouldn’t. It isn’t my place to—”

“David, thanks for coming.” Mr. Hart appears out of nowhere and grasps his son’s hand. He pulls him into a brief hug, then steps back. “I need to show you something.” He glances at me, but shows no sign that he recognizes me from yesterday morning. “Uh, can we talk in private?”

“Of course.” David’s hand slides away from my back. “You don’t mind, do you, babe? I won’t be long.”

“Sure, okay.” Of course, if I actually was his girlfriend, I
would
mind being left alone, but perhaps this way I can listen in on their conversation.

I take note of the direction they’re going in, then hurry across the room to Ryn. My feet wobble in their too-high heels, and I catch onto the arm of an older man for balance. “Oops, sorry.” I give him an embarrassed laugh before continuing on my way. Ryn is standing in a corner, caressing the cheek of the blonde woman. It looks like he’s leaning in for a kiss. I suppress an eye roll and grab his arm. “Come, we need to go.”

“Hey!” Miss Blondie looks extremely put out. “We were—”

“Trust me, you’re not missing anything,” I tell her as I pull Ryn away.

“Trust you?” Ryn looks sideways at me. “How exactly would you know if she’s missing anything or not?”

“I may have been six years old, but I haven’t forgotten.”

“Ah, yes.” He nods. “Our first and only kiss. Well, you’ll have to trust
me
when I say my kissing skills have improved since then.”

“Whatever. Mr. Hart and his son are about to have a private discussion, and I’m pretty sure we need to hear it.” I let go of Ryn’s arm as we pass through another room of chattering, sophisticated people.

 “I see you were getting your flirt on with Mr. Hart, Jr,” Ryn says. He lifts a glass of something bubbly from the tray of a passing waiter and takes a sip before placing the glass on a low table.

“At least I was flirting with someone connected to our assignment. And what are you doing drinking human alcohol? You know what that stuff does to us.”

“It was just one sip. You know it takes at least four to get a faerie drunk.”

“Wonderful. My assignment partner is a quarter of the way to being drunk.” We turn into a hallway just in time to see Mr. Hart opening the door of his study. He ushers his son inside, then shuts the door. “Okay, we need to open a peephole into that room and find out what’s going on.”

Instead of replying, Ryn stares over my shoulder. His expression is a mixture of confusion and horror.

“What is it?” I start to look behind me, but he grabs my shoulders.

“Nothing!” His grip prevents me from turning. “I thought I recognized someone, but I was wrong.”

I pull away from him and look back down the hallway, but whoever was there is now gone. I turn back to him with a frown. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Uh, because you’re suspicious by nature?” He laughs in a way that doesn’t seem natural. “Remember Cecy?”

“Of course I remember Cecy.” She was a friend of ours when we were younger. Her parents were several centuries older than ours, and when they retired from the Guild they decided they didn’t want their only child to have a guardian’s life. They moved away from Creepy Hollow around about the time of my father’s death.

“Yeah, well, I thought I saw someone who looks like her. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get into that study.”

Crap, the study! Who knows what we’ve missed already. Ryn writes on the hallway wall with his stylus, and I hold onto his arm as we walk through the doorway. “Did I tell you about the time Zell followed me through the faerie paths without having any contact with me?”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Ryn says as darkness envelops us.

“I know. He couldn’t possibly have known what destination I was thinking about. So either we were taught the wrong thing about faerie paths, or Zell knows some special way of—”

“Shh, I’m trying to concentrate.”

I shut my mouth, and Ryn opens two peepholes on the bookshelf side of Mr. Hart’s study.

“Are you sure you’re not having some kind of mental breakdown, Dad?” David is leaning against the desk, while Mr. Hart paces across the study’s floor.

“You saw this metal thing behind my ear, didn’t you?” Mr. Hart pauses in his pacing to point at his neck. “How could a mental breakdown produce that?”

“Well, okay, I guess it can’t. But perhaps you had a little operation you forgot to tell me about. Maybe it’s some new kind of hearing aid you don’t remember having put in.”

“Rubbish.” Mr. Hart continues pacing. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory. And why are you arguing with me now? You seemed to believe me when we spoke on the phone.”

David scratches his head. “I was trying to calm you down.”

“Calm me down?” Mr. Hart’s fists are balled at his sides, and a vein throbs visibly on his forehead.

“You’re asking me to believe in
faeries
, Dad.” David throws his hands up. “Can you see the problem here?”

“The problem isn’t
believing
in them, David. I’ve known about them for years. Ever since we moved into this house.”

“What?” David’s brow furrows. “You didn’t mention that on the phone.”

“Because that wasn’t the point! The point is that my life is being threatened. My family members are being threatened.”

“By fictional characters,” David mutters.

Mr. Hart ignores his son’s comment and collapses into an armchair in the corner. “All these years of throwing the best parties,” he says wistfully. “The magnificent food and drinks, the out-of-this-world entertainment.” He shakes his head. “It’s finally come back to bite me in the ass.”

“What are you talking about?” David starts to look concerned as his father leans forward and rests his head in his hands.

“Shortly after we moved here, a faerie showed up in this very room one night and explained that the house was actually his. He claimed to have many homes, some in the fae realm and some here. He didn’t want any of his own kind knowing this house belonged to him—he liked to hide things here, he said—so he allowed us to continue living here as a cover-up. Then he showed me the underground part of our home.”

“The underground part?” David looks even more confused now.

“He forbade me from telling anyone about it, of course. But I need your help, and it seems this is the only way you’ll believe me.” He stands up, walks behind his desk, and removes a bottle of whiskey from a low drawer. He carries the bottle to the potted plant in the corner behind the door, unscrewing the top as he goes.

“Okay, I think you’re taking this too far now, Dad.”

“I took this too far the day I agreed to continue living here.” And with that, Mr. Hart turns the bottle upside down and pours it over the plant. Instead of liquid, a black dust comes pouring out. The plant shimmers for a moment, then disintegrates into multi-colored wisps of cloud before disappearing. In its place is a perfectly round hole in the wooden floor. Steps lead downward.

“Oh. Holy. Cow,” whispers David.

“Indeed.” Mr. Hart locks his office door before heading down the stairs. “I’ll assume you’re following me, David.”

Ryn waits for David to follow his father, then widens the opening out of the faerie paths. “We need to be careful,” he says. “It would be better if they don’t know we’re following them.”

“Yeah, I got it, come on.” I slip my heels off and carry them in one hand as I lead the way down the stairs. I reach a passageway with white walls and a wooden floor, just like the rest of the house. Soft light filters down from small round circles in the ceiling. The end of the passage isn’t too far ahead, and Mr. Hart’s voice carries easily back to us.

“I suppose I’ve always known I was nothing more than a toy to him. He made our parties spectacular with his enchanted food, drinks and entertainment. But it was all for his own enjoyment, I’m sure. He was just playing with us like dolls in a doll house.”

I get to the end of the passage and peek around the corner. Ryn puts his hand on my arm, as if to hold me back. Right, like I’d really be stupid enough to go marching in there. I stretch my neck a little further and see a room with a lounge suite in the middle and shelves with hundreds of objects lining the walls. Different colored stones, a chipped jug, a kettle with red smoke wafting from its spout—this room is a treasure trove of . . . stuff.

“Is this
he
the same one who threatened your life?” David is walking slowly around the room, examining various objects, while is father sits on one of the couches.

“Yes. I told you what he gave me, didn’t I?” David nods and pokes curiously at a plant with wiggling gel-like leaves. “He was in a rush that night. He forced the box into my hands and told me to bring it down here immediately. He’d stolen it from someone, and this someone was after him. He said that if I told
anyone
about it he would make me watch the torturous death of every member of my family. And then he’d kill me.”

David looks up. “But you told me about it.”

“Because I’m desperate.” Mr. Hart rises from the couch. “I need your help getting away from here. I don’t want to be part of this anymore.”

“And you think I can help you?”

“I know you have friends who can help your mother and me . . . disappear.”

David stares at his father, his expression revealing nothing. “You think I have friends like that?”

“I
know
you do. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about the fake driver’s license.”

David looks down, then around the room once more. “So where is this precious box that’s caused you so much stress?”

Mr. Hart walks over to the chipped jug I noticed and picks it up. He turns it upside down and out tumbles a small black box. “That’s the only way to get anything out of this jug,” he tells David. “If you put your hand inside, the jug just bites you and forces your hand back out.”

“Bites you?”

“Yes. I found that out the painful way.”

With eyes full of wonder—and a little fear—David takes the box. He opens it carefully and pulls something out. A silver chain with a pendant. I can’t see much except that it’s small and simple. David holds it up in front of his face where it swings slowly back and forth. “What’s so important about this piece of jewelry that an entire family could die if anyone found out about it?”

“I don’t know. I’m just the keeper of these items. I have no idea what they do unless I find out for myself, and I lost my curiosity after I almost lost my hand.”