A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4) by Rachel Morgan
“It’s not the same,” she says sulkily.
“Fine.” I grit my teeth to keep my temper in along with the images of me knocking Saskia clear across the room. Don’t let anyone see that. Do NOT let anyone see that. After making sure the disturbing images aren’t about to be broadcast across the training center, I ask, “What exactly is it going to take to make you accept that I belong here?”
She purses her lips and taps her chin. “Well, there is the initiation the rest of us went through.”
Gemma throws her hands up. “That’s so stupid. She doesn’t have to do that.”
“Stay out of this, admin girl,” Saskia says, sending a venomous glare Gemma’s way.
Gemma turns to me, shaking her head slowly, probably trying to communicate that I don’t have to do this. But if it’s nothing more than a silly initiation for first years, then it can’t be that difficult. And if everyone else did it, I want to do it too. I bite my lip, then say to Saskia, “Tell me more about this initiation.”
Gemma groans and walks away as a slow smile creeps onto Saskia’s lips. “Come to the old Guild ruins tomorrow night at nine.” She leans closer. “If you think you can handle it.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
It’s sixteen minutes to nine the next night when Mom knocks on my bedroom door and asks if she can come in. A quick wave at my closet brings my robe sailing through the air. I pull the blue fabric swiftly over my clothes before opening the door. I give Mom a sleepy smile.
“All settled in?” she asks.
“Yes, I think so.” I moved my things back home yesterday afternoon after Olive dismissed me with an annoyed “I thought I told you not to embarrass me. Get out of my sight now.” I spent last night and this evening unpacking my belongings. This place doesn’t feel like home, though. It’s hotter and smaller and creakier than our place in Woodsinger Grove, which is the only home I’ve ever known. Thanks to Mom and her paranoia, we’ll never live there again.
“Well, it’s nice to have you back,” Mom says with a smile. She wanders past me and brushes her hand over the pencils on my desk. “How were your first two days? You haven’t said much so far.”
“Oh, you know, I’m just tired from all the busyness.” I pull back my bed covers and climb into bed. “But it’s been good. Great to finally be there as a real trainee.” I haven’t told her about my disappointments: disinterested mentor, unfriendly classmates, and failed Fish Bowl experience.
“And … you feel safe there?”
“Of course. It’s probably the safest place to be outside of the Seelie Court.” After the Destruction and Lord Draven’s reign, the new Guild Council made sure no one would ever break through the Guild’s magical protection again.
“That’s good,” Mom says, leaning against my desk chair. “You might not be safe here at home, but at least most of your time will be spent at the Guild now.”
I don’t point out that a lot of my time will be spent outside of the Guild on assignments. Instead, I say, “We’re fine here, Mom. After all the protective charms Dad got for this place, it’s probably as secure as the Guild.”
“Yes, well, let’s hope so. He certainly paid a lot for some of those charms.” The dazed look I’ve become familiar with over the years crosses Mom’s face before she shakes her head and turns away. She turns in a full circle, then pulls the chair out and sits.
Sometimes I wonder if my mother is just a little bit crazy.
“I should probably get to sleep,” I say, adding in a yawn for good measure. “I need to be up early. Looks like most trainees eat breakfast at the Guild, so I was planning to join them if … you don’t mind?”
Mom nods as she stands. She tucks a wisp of pale yellow hair behind her ear. “That’s fine.” I can imagine what she’s thinking. That I’ll be safer eating breakfast at the Guild than eating breakfast at home, or something silly like that.
She kisses my forehead—which makes me feel far younger than I am—and leaves. The door creaks shut behind her. I rest my head on a pillow and listen to her footsteps as she descends the stairs. When I can no longer hear her, I sit up. The enchanted clock hanging above my desk tells me I’ve got nine minutes until I need to be at the old Guild ruins. I painted the clock myself while I was at Ellinhart Academy. It’s an abstract mishmash of numbers, but I bought a charm that superimposes the time in shining gold digits over the painting.
I remove my robe to reveal long dark pants and a dark tank top. If this were an assignment, I’d cover up my pale arms, but it’s too warm tonight to bother with that. I step into my boots, which lace themselves up as I grab my trainee pendant from beside my bed. The boots aren’t helping with the heat, of course, but I don’t feel guardian enough without them. I return the robe to the colorful section of my closet—a section I won’t be using much anymore—and check that my door is properly closed. Then I open a doorway to the faerie paths on the wall beside it.
I picture the overgrown ruins of the old Creepy Hollow Guild. It existed for many centuries before Lord Draven destroyed it a decade ago. It was an enormous structure, concealed by exceptionally powerful glamour magic. Draven’s magic turned out to be more powerful, though. When the Guild exploded forth from the single tree it was hidden within, it demolished a large part of the forest. I never saw it back then, but I trained in the area recently with Ryn, and Zed took me there a few times during our years of private training. The forest has regrown within and around the ruins, reclaiming the area as its own. Trees pushed their way through, moss gathered on the stones, and vines crawled over fallen pillars and splintered wood.
I walk out of the faerie paths and onto the ruins. The leafy treetops filter out most of the moon’s light, but glow-bugs and sprites with tiny lanterns always hang around here, and one of the varieties of creeping plants glows at night, further lighting up the area. I climb over and between cracked and crumbling obstacles, looking out for Saskia. Part of me wonders if she’s lured me here to meet some wild and dangerous creature instead of her, but then I hear her voice.
I look around and find her leaning against a fallen stone statue of a pegasus. The majestic creature has no head and only one wing and is riddled with cracks. Beside Saskia is a guy I recognize from our class. “There you are,” Saskia calls to me. “I thought you might be too afraid to show up.”
“Why did you think that?” I ask, heading toward the two of them. “It’s not as though I’m late.”
“Whatever.” She folds her arms over her chest and stands up straighter. “This is Blaze. He’s the one who came up with the initiation idea in our first year.”
“Hey,” Blaze says. “So I heard you’re willing to do whatever it takes to prove you’re one of us instead of some artsy freak.”
I look at Saskia. Clearly she did some editing when reporting our conversation to Blaze. She raises an eyebrow, as if daring me to contradict her. I remind myself not to let this girl and her pettiness get to me before turning my gaze back to Blaze.
“Did everyone in your year do this initiation?”
“Yes. Even the skinny nerds. Initiation isn’t allowed by the Guild, but this was all off the record, of course. We had our own ranking system too. We paired people up and made them race against each other to complete the task. It made our first few weeks as trainees a whole lot more fun than they would have been otherwise.”
“It was rather thrilling,” Saskia says, grinning at the memory.
“So what is this task?”
“You need to go Underground to Sivvyn Quarter, retrieve an item—anything. A book, jewelry, whatever—and bring it to us at one of the Underground clubs to prove that you did it.”
I look from Blaze to Saskia, then back again. “That sounds like a stupid task.”
The smirk on Blaze’s face turns to a glare. “Sivvyn Quarter is a residential area. That’s what makes it a challenge. You won’t just find something lying around. You actually have to break in to someone’s home and take something—without
“So you want me to steal something? Doesn’t that go against the very essence of who we are as guardians? We’re supposed to do good, not bad.”
Saskia lets out an exaggerated groan. “Jeez, Calla. Do you take everything in life so seriously? It’s just a game. And you don’t keep the item. You take it back.”
“That’s the second part of the challenge,” Blaze says. “Returning the item without getting caught.”
“And what’s stopping me from simply going home, fetching a necklace from my own bedroom, and bringing it to you?”
Saskia holds up a narrow strip of leather. “Tracker band. Your mentor probably hasn’t given you one yet, so you’ll be using mine.” She steps closer, wraps the band around my wrist, and clips it closed.
I touch the soft leather. “I assume you have access to one of those replay devices for tracker bands?”
“Obviously,” Blaze says. “My mentor never locks his office.”
“So, are you in or out?” Saskia asks. “And remember that ‘out’ means you’re obviously not guardian material.”
I watch two sprites flit hand in hand past us while considering this ‘initiation’ challenge. Steal something from Underground. The stealing part should be fairly easy, aside from the fact that I don’t agree with it. It’s the Underground part I’m worried about. I’ve never been down to the vast network of tunnels that run beneath Creepy Hollow, but I can imagine them. Narrow. Dark. Earth closing in around me. My chest constricts just thinking about them.
I push my panic down, telling myself the tunnels can’t be that bad. ‘Out’ isn’t an option if I’m hoping to be accepted by my classmates. And while I don’t need acceptance, it’ll make my time at the Guild far easier. A time that could very well last decades—centuries, even—since I plan to be a guardian for the rest of my life. Which means I need to get along with the people I’ll be spending every day working beside.
“I’m in.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
“Great.” Saskia grabs my arm while Blaze opens a doorway to the faerie paths. Before I have a chance to say another word, I find myself stepping out of the darkness into a tunnel. Fortunately, it’s a lot larger than the concrete pipe I faced earlier today. I expect to feel earth beneath my boots, but the ground is covered by large, flat stones, spaced closely together. Some glow yellow, bringing a warm light to the enclosed space.
“Sivvyn Quarter is that way,” Saskia says, pointing over my shoulder. “We’ll be down this side, at Club Deviant.”
“Club Deviant?”
“Pretty easy to find. Just tell the faerie paths. They’ll take you close enough.”
“And … what kinda of fae am I likely to run into in Sivvyn Quarter?”
“All kinds,” Blaze says as he drapes an arm casually around Saskia’s shoulders. “That area doesn’t belong to any particular group of fae.”
“Oh, and just remember not to tell anyone you’re with the Guild,” Saskia adds. “You’ll probably end up dead.”
My eyes widen. “It’s that bad?”
“Yeah, well, you know what happened after the reptiscilla petitions were denied.”
I do. After the Council made it official that the Guild would never be open to anyone but faeries, there was a riot. Two guardians ended up dead, along with five reptiscillas. “I remember,” I say with a nod.
“Then you know that reptiscillas hate guardians even more now than they did before the Destruction.”
“Along with every other kind of fae,” Blaze adds. “They think we tricked them. Used them to defeat Draven, then laughed in their faces when they wanted to join our Guilds and become guardians like us.”
“Okay, I get it. They all hate guardians. I’ll be careful.” And if I’m somehow found out, I’ll mention Vi’s name. She and a handful of other guardians have been on the reptiscillas’ side from the beginning, so hopefully they don’t hate her—or anyone related to her.
“You might want to change your clothes then,” Saskia says, her eyes brushing over my outfit. “Unless you want to be the only one wearing plain black in Club Deviant. No one would ever guess you’re with the Guild then.” With a self-satisfied smile and a haughty tilt of her chin, she grasps Blaze’s hand and spins around. “Come on. Let’s at least get some fun out of this evening.”
Blaze pulls her against his side and presses a loud kiss to her cheek as they walk away. I head in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the echo of Saskia’s giggles. The tunnel isn’t straight, and every time it curves to the left or right, I wonder if I’ll meet someone around the bend. I haven’t gone far before I notice a distant sound. I can’t make out what it is as first, but as the noise grows louder, I decide it must be the rattle of wheels over the stone-covered ground.
I’m proven correct as the tunnel curves and widens, and a wooden cart, its contents covered by a blanket, comes into view. It’s pushed by a tall elf dressed in tight green pants and a green waistcoat. He slows when he sees me, but soon regains his speed. His eyes remain trained on me as we draw near to one another. His eyebrows—pierced with a row of silver rings—draw together.
As we pass each other, I point my eyes forward and tell myself not to run. That would look suspicious. I quicken my pace slightly, but keep it to a walking speed. Don’t panic. Don’t run. Nothing is wrong.
The rattling of the cart stops.
A shiver runs up my arms. Why has the elf stopped? Is he watching me? Is he coming after me? I long to look over my shoulder, but I don’t want it to appear as though I have anything to be concerned about.
Keep walking. Keep walking, keep walking.
The cart rattle starts up again. I risk a glance over my shoulder. The elf and his cart are moving in the opposite direction. A few moments later, they disappear around a curve in the tunnel.
I release my anxiety in a long, slow breath. Then I remove my stylus from my boot and prepare to alter my outfit. I’m certainly no clothes caster, but I know a few basic spells from an introductory course I took at Ellinhart. In my first year there, I tried out everything from painting, drawing and sculpting to fashion design, interior design and architecture. I almost failed the architecture section, but fashion design was fun.
I remove my boots, then run my stylus from the bottom of my pants all the way to the top of my thighs, watching the fabric disappear until I’m wearing shorts that are shorter than anything my mother would approve of. With another couple of spells written across my clothing, the shorts become bright blue and the tank top becomes the peachy pink of an early morning sky. I ruffle my hair up, pull my boots back on, and get moving down the tunnel. When I pass two reptiscillan girls, neither gives me more than a disinterested glance.
After another few minutes of walking, the tunnel widens before coming to an intricately carved stone archway. Curling letters painted onto the top of the stone structure spell the words Sivvyn Quarter. Beyond that, the tunnel forks into three separate lanes. With no indication of which one might be the best option, I choose the middle lane.
Glowing stone tiles continue to light the way as I walk. I pass a door on the left, and then another on the right. Presumably these doors lead into homes, but how am I supposed to break in? And what if I find someone on the other side? Am I supposed to grab something and run? I place my ear against the next door I come across and hear voices within. I move on. The next home I come to is silent, but I can’t bring myself to attempt anything. Breaking in just isn’t right. How can Saskia and Blaze expect me to do this? I continue along the tunnel, trying to figure out what to do.
And then I smell it. Sharp but familiar, it makes me feel instantly at home. It’s the smell of the art studio back at Ellinhart where I spent many hours on my own, absorbed in my work. It’s the smell of our living room every time I brought home a newly finished canvas.
Paint.
Different kinds, their scents mingling together in the air. I stop beside the only door in the vicini
I crouch down and peer through the keyhole. In the dim light, I can make out the arm of a couch along with the blue and brown striped cushion leaning against it. I can’t see much else, but that’s all I need. I open a faerie paths doorway on the door itself and walk into the darkness. It closes up behind me while I imagine the room. I picture it right here, only feet away from me. I look down, imagine the striped cushion beneath me, and will the faerie paths to open. Light appears below my feet. I drop out of the darkness and bounce onto the couch.
Well, that was surprisingly easy.
I stand and look around the cosy living room. The source of the dim light is a tall lamp in the corner of the room, covered by an old-fashioned lampshade with tassels hanging from its scalloped edge. The furniture looks just as old, as does the rug on the floor. This is probably the home of some old lady. The artwork, however, seems out of place here. Canvases drenched in streaks of bright color fill the room. Some are hanging, while others lean against the walls. A blazing sunset; rainbow-tinted spray rising from a waterfall; a woman wandering across clouds of pink, orange and mauve; sprites dancing in the rain. I drink in their beauty, thinking I could stare at them forever. They’re so much better than anything I’ve ever done. So much more alive.