A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) by Rachel Morgan
“Well, I’ll wait then.”
“For what? You don’t have an appointment.”
A flicker of anger burns to life inside me, but I smother it, reminding myself to remain as emotionless as possible if I don’t want to find myself flung into the past. “Okay, then I’d like to make an appointment.”
“For what time?”
“For whatever time you have available.”
“I don’t think we have any—”
The door behind the counter opens and a man walks out ahead of Chase. He has the same bald head and slitted eyes as the drakoni club owner, which causes panic to clutch my insides. But he’s taller and leaner and can’t possibly be the same man.
Be calm, be calm, be calm, I remind myself.
“… all settle down in no time,” the drakoni man is saying. “Then we can get back to business as usual.”
“Yeah, just keep me updated.” Chase shakes the man’s hand and says goodbye before looking my way. If he’s surprised to see me here, he doesn’t show it. “Miss Goldilocks,” he says. “Skipping school today?”
“Miss Goldilocks?”
“Yes. A little girl with golden locks who features in a well-known human nursery story you’ve probably never heard of.”
Fantastic. So now I’m a little girl. “Yes, I’m skipping school,” I say as I cross my arms. “I decided I’d rather get a tattoo than a guardian education. I was thinking a dragon. A big one. Right across my back.”
I was hoping to shock them, but the girl gives me an unimpressed I-don’t-think-so look while Chase appears amused.
“Fine. I’m not skipping school. The Guild’s freaking out because of an enchanted storm, so they sent us home for the day. I figured I’d come see you now.”
“An enchanted storm,” the elf girl says, her voice devoid of emotion. “That sounds terrifying. Don’t you think that sounds terrifying, Chase?” She isn’t looking him, though. She’s still looking at me, and I’m about ninety-eight percent sure she’s making fun of me.
“Anyway.” I turn to Chase. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Still looking amused, Chase steps to the side and gestures to the open door behind the counter. Ignoring the girl, I walk past him into a room where the adjustable reclining chair in the center takes up most of the space. A smaller, wheeled chair is pushed against the wall beneath shelves of ink containers, tattoo styluses, and what I assume are other tattoo-related supplies.
“So,” Chase says as he closes the door. “Time to get rid of that annoying time travel ability you recently acquired.”
“Yes. I mean, if you’re not busy right now.”
“Not at all. Let me just cancel that appointment with the princess of the Seelie Court, and I’m all yours.”
I roll my eyes. “You expect me to believe you have clients in the royal family?”
“Does Unseelie royalty count?” he asks innocently.
I cross my arms. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? Because it doesn’t. I happen to have met my own share of Unseelie royalty.” And it was intimidating as hell, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Right,” Chase says with a laugh. “Of course you have. Anyway, as it happens, my schedule is clear today.”
“Great. Let’s get going then. Where are we—Wait, what happened to your phoenix?” I ask, suddenly noticing the dark shape on his upper right arm. I’m almost certain I saw a phoenix there the other night, but it looks like the bottom half of a horse now.
“Oh, the phoenix is gone for now,” Chase says, lifting his T-shirt sleeve so I can see the rest of the tattoo. “I drew this pegasus a little while ago, and a friend of mine did it yesterday.”
“But … I thought tattoos were permanent.”
“Not the way humans do them.” He pulls his sleeve down and reaches for a black coat. At my questioning gaze, he adds, “Human tattoos obviously involve no magic. They’re just ink under the skin. For humans, the ink stays there, but for magical beings, the body’s healing magic acts on the ink. The tattoo fades within a few days.”
“So if I wanted a permanent tattoo …”
“Your tattoo artist would use enchanted ink.” He pulls on his coat. “Make sure to check that before you get your giant dragon done.”
I walk over to one of the shelves where a collection of different colored bottles are standing. I lift one. “Is this enchanted ink?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then I’ve checked.”
“Well then,” Chase says as he opens a doorway against a bare space of wall. “I’ll get my friendly assistant to make you an appointment when we get back.”
“Good luck with that.”
I take hold of his outstretched hand and walk into the faerie paths with him. As light forms at the other end, an icy wind blows my hair back. We step out onto frost-covered ground. Shivering, I look around. No trees, no bushes, no signs of life. The clouds are puffs of grey and white above us, and spread out before us is a vast lake, its dark surface marred only by the faintest of ripples. In the distance, beyond the water, the ground rises steeply into a snow-capped mountain.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Far from home.”
“Yeah, I guessed that part. The sudden change in seasons was a bit of a giveaway.” I rub my hands up and down my arms. My thin summer jacket won’t do much for me here.
“You’ll be warm once we get inside.”
“Inside where?”
He points across the lake toward the mountain peak. “There.”
“I see. And you didn’t perhaps want to bring us out of the paths a little bit closer?”
“Not possible. Everything from the lake onwards is protected. We’ll be flying up there.” He brings his fingers to his lips and lets out a piercing whistle.
Seconds tick by, and nothing happens. “Are you sure your whistle worked?” I asked.
“Patience,” Chase says. “He’s coming.”
I follow his gaze and see a grey shape in the air above the lake. It grows larger as it moves toward us. Soon I can make out wings, four limbs, and a tail, but it isn’t until the creature swoops down and lands beside Chase that I realize what it is.
Its head is demon-like, with ridged horns curving backward and fangs protruding from its wide mouth. Its muscular limbs end in large, taloned claws. Wrinkles course across its grey, leathery hide, making it appear almost as if the creature is covered in cracked stone.
“That’s … that’s a gargoyle,” I gasp, stepping hastily backward.
“It is.”
“And you want me to ride one? Are you crazy? It’s illegal enough to have one, let alone ride it.”
“Mm, illegal? Or just not encouraged?”
“Illegal. Definitely illegal. They’re bound to protect the Unseelie Court. They don’t answer to anyone else.”
“Well, Jarvis answers to me.”
“Jarvis? You named it?”
The gargoyle lets out a low growl.
“Him,” Chase says. “Not it. And yes, I named him. It’s a reference to … well, never mind. I doubt you’d get it. Now hurry up and get over here. If we spend any more time in this cold we’ll have to waste magic to heat ourselves up.”
“No.” I take another few steps backward, shaking my head. “No. You know what? This is crazy. This is just … this is too far. I barely know you, I’ve followed you to who knows where, and now you’re trying to get me onto a highly dangerous, illegal creature so you can whisk me off to a distant mountain where I’ll probably never be heard from again.”
Chase gives me a quizzical look. “What exactly do you think I plan to do with you?”
“I don’t know, but—”
A vibration shudders through the ground. Everything blurs as a ripple races away from me. “No, not again,” I moan. Be calm, be calm, be calm.
A second later, Chase is standing in front of me, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly. “Don’t,” he says, his voice ringing loudly above the
I hug my arms around my middle and frown at my feet. “But then I’ll keep finding myself thrown into the past.”
“Exactly.”
I close my eyes and resign myself to the fact that there’s no other way to fix this. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Gargoyle riding is a terrifying experience. Jarvis’s wings flap and heave, making for an exceptionally bumpy flight, and I constantly feel as though I’m clinging to the side of something rather than sitting on it. Chase hangs onto a harness fixed to the gargoyle’s back, and I keep my arms wrapped tightly around him and my head buried behind his back. He complains several times about having trouble breathing, but I don’t loosen my grip for a second. I could probably slow my fall if I tumbled off Jarvis, but I’d still have to hit the water at some point, and who knows what could be lurking beneath its dark surface.
After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, Jarvis drops through the air and lands clumsily on a ledge far above the base of the mountain. I let go of Chase and slide off Jarvis’s back. My shaky legs almost deposit me flat on my backside, but I manage to remain standing. Chase climbs off the gargoyle and pats its back. “Wasn’t that fun?” he asks.
“That was horrible. There’s got to be an easier way to get up here. We live in a world of magic, for goodness’ sake. Riding on the back of a gargoyle can’t be our only option.”
“Well, I’m sorry my pegasus and magic carpet were unavailable today. I’ll make sure they’re around next time. Or perhaps you’d prefer a dragon? You seem to have a certain fondness for those.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t helping.”
“Neither is your brattiness.”
My mouth drops open.
“Yeah, you heard me. Now come inside before we both freeze. You can apologize to Jarvis on the journey home.”
I try to come up with a snappy response, but part of me recognizes that Chase has a point. He’s going out of his way to help me, so I should probably stop complaining about the unorthodox means of transportation.
Chase puts a hand inside his jacket and pulls out a slim square of metal with patterns etched into it. He walks across the ledge and presses the metal against the rock face. When he steps back, an arch-shaped outline glows for a moment before disappearing, leaving an open archway in the side of the mountain. “After you,” Chase says.
I walk into an entrance hall with wooden floors and walls painted cream. A clear glass orb containing a collection of glow-bugs is attached to the center of the ceiling, lighting the room. The aroma of a hearty meal hangs in the air. “What exactly is this place?” I ask, turning to look at Chase.
“Uh, a friend of mine lives here,” he says as he uses the metal square to close the archway. “This is his home.”
“He must be a good friend if he gave you a key to the front door.”
Chase smiles and walks past me toward the staircase. “Come. He’ll be up here.” I follow Chase up the stairs as he calls, “Gaius? It’s me.”
On the next floor, we walk down a carpeted passage and, after a brief knock on an open door, we enter a study. It’s far more chaotic than any I’ve seen before, and it isn’t just because of the books, scrolls and bits of machinery piled everywhere. It’s because of the plants. Plants on every surface, spilling out of glass bowls, draped over bookshelves, and twisting around the desk legs. Amidst the chaos is a skinny man with unkempt hair, flipping through the pages of a book as he paces.
“Gaius?” Chase says.
The man looks up. “Chase, dear chap! Well done for finally wrapping up the—” Chase interrupts him with a loud cough, then looks at me. Gaius follows his gaze. “Ah. I see. Well done for the, uh, that tattoo business.”
I want to roll my eyes. It’s so obvious they’re not referring to anything tattoo-related.
“And this is?” Gaius asks, crossing the room with a wide smile. “The young lady with the time traveling problem?”
With an uncertain smile, I say, “That sounds like me.”
“Gaius, this is Calla,” Chase says. “The Guild girl I mentioned to you. Calla, this is Gaius. He’s—well, as you can probably tell—a botanist. He actually worked for a Guild once, about two centuries ago.”
“Yes. London Guild.” Gaius nods. “I was there for four years before they, uh, restructured my department. Seems they restructured my job too. Gave it to someone else.”
“Oh. I’m sorry about that.”
“Not to worry. It was a long time ago.” He snaps the book shut. “So, young lad. Shall we get this girl fixed up, and then you can both be on your way?”
“Young lad?” I smother a laugh.
“Yes, he’s—what?” Gaius turns to Chase. “Thirty-something?”
“Twenty-something.”
“Twenty-something?” I repeat, turning to Chase. “And here you are calling me ‘Miss Goldilocks’ as if you’re somebody’s grandfather.”
Gaius chuckles. “I think I’m the only grandfather in this room. Now, let me just clear a space for you to sit.” He leaves the book on his desk before moving things off an armchair and piling them on the floor.
“So, Gaius, do you ever leave the mountain?” I ask.
“Well, most of the time I’m happy to stay here—I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied—but I do leave occasionally.”
“And how do you enjoy gargoyle riding?”
“Gargoyle riding?” Gaius laughs as he gathers some papers from the armchair and crumples them up. “No, no, the gargoyle is Chase’s. I use the faerie paths.”
“Is that so.” I cross my arms and turn to Chase, who’s regarding me with an innocent expression.
“Yes, well, one of those faerie doors,” Gaius continues. “You know them? Where there’s a set destination on each side.”
Anger rises inside me as I glare at Chase. “So you made me ride that thing when we could have walked straight out of your tattoo studio and into this mountain?”
“It’s not a thing. It’s Jarvis.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Hmm. For fun?”
“Chase!”
“You’re right. It really wasn’t that fun.” He puts his hand into his back pocket and pulls out a twisted gold key. “Gaius, I may have accidentally melted my key for the faerie door—” he gives me a pointed look “—leaving Jarvis as my only travel option. Could you possibly make me another one?”
It happens quickly this time. The vibrations, the blurring, the shockwave rippling away from me. Fear grips me. I throw my hands out toward him. “Chase—”
But I’m gone.
I’m jolted into a familiar Underground living room. Chase stands nearby, his hands pushed into the pockets of his hoodie, the hood pulled over his head. “What do you think?” he asks. He can’t be talking to me, so there must be someone else here. Still breathless and dizzy from the time-travel shock, I take a moment to pause and breathe before looking over my shoulder. A woman stands there, dark-haired and dressed for winter: elegant coat, thick scarf, high-heeled fur boots.
“It isn’t really my style,” she says, running her gloved fingers through the tassels of the old lampshade, “but it’s a vast improvement on the hovel you were living in before.”
“I wouldn’t quite call that ‘living,’” Chase says quietly. He picks up a decorative, lacy cushion from the desk chair. “This isn’t exactly my style either, but … well, it was a gift. I’m grateful.”
This is fine, I tell myself. This is fine. This is fine. I’ve landed in the past several ti
“I didn’t know you could draw,” the woman says, walking to the desk and lifting a sketch from its surface.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” Chase plucks the paper from her hand and slides it into a drawer. “Just a … recent hobby.”
My mind turns to Zed and his girlfriend. That’s usually a pretty upsetting thought. I purposefully imagine him making out with someone else—and find that it doesn’t elicit much reaction from me. “Darn,” I murmur. It seems I’ve finally managed to get over the crush I’ve had for the past two years. And at the most inconvenient time.
“But, darling, it’s so good,” the woman says to Chase. “Don’t hide it away.”
Darling? My attention reverts to the scene I’m standing in. I walk closer as the woman snakes her arms around Chase’s neck. Something seems different about his face, but I can’t figure out what. Perhaps it’s the shadow cast by his hood, or the fact that he’s most likely younger here than the Chase I know in the present. “Fine, don’t show me your pretty pictures,” the woman says. “But can I convince you to come with me tonight? We can go dancing like we used to. It’ll be fun.”
He leans closer to her. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to kiss her—a thought that makes my insides squirm with awkwardness—but then his lips stretch into a grim smile. “Sorry,” he says. “Not working.”
She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, then steps away from him with a laugh. “It’s always worth a try.” She sashays across the room to the door and pulls it open. “I need to go. Keep well, darling.” She walks out, then looks back over her shoulder. “And … I’m glad to see you’re doing so much better than last time. Try to stay focused on the good things, okay? Everything will be all right.”
He nods, and she closes the door. The moment she’s gone, he lowers himself onto the desk chair and places his head in his hands. With his shoulders stooped and his face covered, he breathes out a slow, shaky breath. “Nothing will ever be all right,” he murmurs.