Labyrinth (6 page)

I let go of my knife. Its fiery disappearance into the air catches her attention. Her head snaps up, and the moment I see her eyes, I know something isn’t right.

“Nathaniel,” she breathes as she rises from the desk in one fluid movement. “I so hoped you would find me one day.”

Her eyes are bright silver, and I realize then that her hair isn’t grey. It is, of course, also silver. And that can only mean one thing. “Nate.” I grab his hand to pull him back. “This isn’t your mother.”

Her gaze flicks immediately to me. “And why do you say that? Because I am a faerie?”

“Uh, yes.” Clearly not a very intelligent one. “In case you haven’t noticed, the boy standing beside me is
human
.”

“Right. A human who can see past glamours and travel safely through faerie paths. In case
you
haven’t noticed, little faerie girl, the boy standing beside you is a halfling.”

A halfling.

No, that’s crazy.
Crazy
. But then . . . it actually makes a lot of sense. Crap. I hate being wrong. I look at Nate. His mouth is hanging open, but he seems unable to make any sound come out.

“A halfling without magic, of course,” adds Angelica. “I would have felt it when he was young if he had any power.”

“Would you?” I counter. “From what I hear, you only stuck around for a few months.”

“Have you seen him display any power?” she asks immediately. “If you have, I’d love to hear about it.”

And, once again, it seems she’s right. Damn. I don’t like this woman, and it’s not just because she proved me wrong and called me ‘little faerie girl’. It’s something about the power I can feel radiating from her. It’s cold, like a breath of glacial air.

“Wait,” says Nate, finally finding his voice. “I’m . . . I’m a . . .”

“A half-faerie, half-human,” says Angelica, her expression softening as she looks at her son. She flicks her hand and the desk dissolves into a puff of smoke, revealing bare feet at the ends of her loose white trousers. She takes a step toward us, then stops when Nate holds his hand up.

“Why did you leave?” he asks.

“I didn’t. Not by choice, anyway. I was taken. I’ve been trapped down here ever since.”

Liar
. “I saw you on the other side of the cliff,” I tell her. “When Drake and Zell were pulling their crazy hangman stunt.”

“Yes, that was me,” she admits. “But it was only a projection of me. I can’t physically leave this chamber.”

“Then why have you never projected yourself into my home?” asks Nate.

“I can only project myself within the fae realm.”

How convenient.

“And what about Drake and Zell?” asks Nate, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did they want to see you so badly?”

Angelica’s eyes drop to the floor, and she pauses before answering. Probably busy concocting some fantastical story. “Would you like to sit down?” she asks. She spreads her arm to the side and three seats appear. They’re woven from thin, flexible branches, and shaped like hollow eggs cut in half. A cord of rope attaches each one to the ceiling. “I can explain everything to you,” she says.

I don’t want to sit on anything conjured up by this woman, but Nate seems willing to listen to her. He fits himself carefully into one of the half eggs, and I perch on the edge of another. My hands and mind are ready to reach for a weapon at the slightest hint of danger.

“I’d never had anything to do with Drake or Zell before they contacted me via a projection recently,” says Angelica. “They had somehow found out about a certain magical item of great power—an item I own—and they wanted to buy it from me. I told them it was not for sale, and refused to meet with them again. But they were determined, and as you had the misfortune to discover, Nathaniel, they decided to use you to force a deal with me. I cast an enchantment over them that should have prevented them from ever finding you, but Zell must have got around it. Fortunately, your friend here—” she nods at me “—managed to save you. I haven’t heard from Zell since.”

Nate says nothing for a while, then mutters, “No one calls me Nathaniel.”

Well, clearly it’s up to me to ask the important questions. “Who trapped you here in the first place,” I ask, “and why?”

Angelica manages to tear her eyes away from Nate, lifting her chin slightly as she looks at me. “A faerie of the Unseelie Court. He extended part of the Underground to build this labyrinth. He filled it with horrible creatures and destructive magic, and enchanted the walls to keep everything in.” A hint of pride enters Angelica’s voice, as though she admires the lunatic faerie who locked her in here. It sends a shiver right down to my feet. “In the center of this labyrinth,” she continues, “in this very chamber, he locked away those who refused to do his bidding. The reason I ended up here was because I would not give him the item of power I possessed. He was killed before I could negotiate my freedom.”

Her voice never wavers, and neither does her gaze, but I find myself unwilling to believe her. After all, she could say just about anything and we’d never know if she was lying. “And what exactly is this item of power?”

“You’ve heard of the halfling Tharros?”

Nate looks up, but I speak before he can say anything. “Yes, of course. He’s in all the history books.”

“While he was alive he transferred part of his power into several inanimate objects—weapons, jewelry, whatever—so that if he was ever drained of his magic he would have other immediate sources of power to draw from. After he died, some of these objects still had power in them. The one I have is a metal disc with a griffin on it.”

I grip Nate’s hand tightly, trying to signal to him to keep his mouth shut, and rush on. “Where did you get this disc?”

“That, my dear, is none of your business.” She turns to Nate, reaching her hand out to him. Her sleeve falls back to reveal black lines curling across her wrist.

“You’re a guardian?” I blurt out.

She looks down at the markings. “I was,” she says, offering no other explanation. “Nathaniel,” she says gently. “I need your help.” When Nate doesn’t reply, she continues. “This powerful item, the piece of metal with the griffin on it, can help me get out of here. I left it in our home. You need to ask your father where it is. Then you can bring it back to me and I’ll be free.”

Nate sits back in the chair and meets his mother’s eyes. “Is that the only reason you were hoping I’d find you?” he asks. “Did it have nothing to do with the fact that I’m your son and, I don’t know, maybe you missed me?”

“Nathaniel, of course I missed you. I love—”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” he says.
Well, that makes two of us.

They stare at each other, neither one blinking. Angelica’s silver eyes harden.

“Perhaps we should go, Nate,” I say quietly.

Angelica pierces me with her silver glare. “And who, exactly, are you?” she demands. “I don’t remember you introducing yourself.”

“That’s because I didn’t. Well done for remembering.”

Nate sighs. “Her name is Violet.”

Angelica’s eyes narrow. Her gaze moves all the way down to my toes and back up again. It’s more than a little creepy. “Well, well, well,” she whispers. “Little Violet. Tell me, how exactly did you meet my son?”

“It’s not
little
Violet,” I say. “It’s just Violet. Or, if you’d really like to piss me off, you could call me Pixie Sticks.”

She doesn’t appear to be listening to me anymore though. She’s staring at nothing, her eyes glazed over as if seeing some invisible scene. “Perfect,” she whispers. She snaps back to the present with a blink and slowly rises from her seat. “I think a change of plan is in order,” she says.

She whips her hand to the side and the branches beneath me melt into nothing. I’m startled for a second, but recover almost immediately. I twist as I hit the floor, roll onto my knees, and spring to my feet. A knife glows in my clenched fist. Angelica’s a split second ahead of me though, and the tangle of branches she sat on just moments before hurtles toward me. I duck out of the way and throw the knife at her. She deflects its path with a silver spark of magic and jumps aside as the seat swings back toward her.

“Stop!” Nate shouts.

Angelica runs at me, faster than I would have thought possible. I drop to the floor at the last second and send her over my shoulder. But she somersaults in the air, spinning and kicking me in the back. I sprawl across the floor and feel her land on top of me. She pins my arms behind my back.

Well, this is embarrassing. I haven’t found myself in a position like this in years.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouts Nate.

“What I’ve been waiting years to do,” mutters Angelica as she struggles with my arms. She leans down and whispers a single word in my ear: “
Revenge.
” Which makes zero sense, since I’ve never done anything to this woman.

“You want that disc thing?” asks Nate, sounding desperate. “Fine. You can have it. It’s—”

“Nate!” I yell at him. “Stop talking!” Perhaps Nate doesn’t see it this way, but I’m thinking it’s a bad idea to give the woman who just attacked me a magical object that will only make her stronger.

“Listen to me, Nathaniel.” Angelica’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “I’m going to send you back up to Creepy Hollow to find Violet’s parents. Tell them that I’ve got her, and get them to come back here with you. They’ll know exactly what I want.”

What?
I stop struggling.
How does she know
 . . . No. I stop the thought before it can go further. Now isn’t the time to ponder whether this crazy woman knew my parents. “Sorry to ruin your plan, Angie,” I say through clenched teeth, “but my parents are dead.” Angelica pauses. She obviously wasn’t expecting that. “Yup, sorry,” I continue. “You’ve obviously got the wrong Violet.”

Angelica twists my arms behind me until I let out a grunt of pain. “Your parents are dead, huh?” she says. “Well, I suppose everyone gets what they deserve in the end.”

That’s it. Wherever the line is, she just crossed it.

I rip my arms out of her grasp, push hard against the floor, and throw her off my back. I jump at the hollow seat that still swings from the ceiling, pull myself on top of it, and lift my hand behind me. Holding onto the rope with my other hand, I release magic in the form of a gust of air, sending the seat flying across the chamber.

“Oh, how
very
clever,” sneers Angelica. “Is this what they teach you at the Guild these days? To fly about like a monkey?”

I move my hand, directing the seat toward the spiral staircase. I leap onto the structure just as a flying spear of ice severs the rope, sending the seat crashing to the ground. I hook my foot over one of the lower railings and hurl a flock of screeching birds toward Angelica. She sweeps her hand to the side, transforming the birds into a shower of harmless rain, while I position my arms to hold my bow and arrow. They appear a moment later in a blaze of fiery warmth.

The idea of an arrow in her forehead doesn’t seem to bother Angelica. “Come down here and fight like a real guardian,” she taunts.

“No!” shouts Nate. He’s standing a few feet away from Angelica, looking as though he desperately wants to do something, he’s just not sure what. “Stop fighting!”

I ignore Nate. “Real guardians don’t fall for ploys like that,” I call down to Angelica. “We have no problem shooting from a distance if it means getting rid of the enemy faster.”

“Enemy?” Nate’s voice is higher than usual. “Who said we have to be enemies?”

“Go back to the tunnel, Nate,” I tell him.

“No!” Angelica grabs her son’s arm. She needn’t have bothered. I’m pretty sure Nate wasn’t about to listen to me.

Something cold pricks my arm and I look down to see a tiny white flake melting against my skin. Several more flakes land on my hand, while others disappear with a sizzle as they drift too close to the sparking arrow.

“Seriously?” says Angelica. “Snow? My opinion of the latest Guild trainers is falling further by the minute.”

“I doubt there’s anyone at the Guild who takes your opinion into consideration,” I say. And the snow must be some strange new labyrinth concoction, because I’ve got nothing to do with it.

“Come down here, silly girl!” Angelica screeches, stamping her foot like a child demanding a new toy. When I don’t respond, she lets go of Nate and, with all her might, throws a glittering white ball of magic at me.

I jump.

Time seems to slow down as I somersault through the air, the floor coming closer, the staircase upside down, the white dots of snow falling oddly upwards.

And then I land—on my feet. Of course. Because I’m the type of person to practice a move until I know I can get it right every time. But I have no chance to pump my fist in the air as I would after achieving a perfect landing during training, because snake-like vines writhe across the chamber floor toward me. I use a sword, slashing from side to side in a figure of eight. Pieces of vine fall to either side, bursting into green flame before smoldering into nothing. But no matter how many I slice up, more keep slithering their way across the stone floor. One of them sneaks its way around my ankle. Before I can cut through it, it tugs me to the floor and yanks me clear across the chamber to where Angelica stands.

“Stop it!” Nate lunges for his mother, wrapping his arms around her neck and waist and pulling her backward. My fingers reach for the handle of my whip. I flick it forward, and the sparkling golden end wraps around Angelica’s ankle.

You’re not the only one who can play this game
, I think, tugging hard. I bring her crashing to the floor just as her bare hands ignite with ice-white flames. She wraps her hands around my leg, and pain sears my skin. I kick her as hard as I can with my free leg, and she lets go with a yelp. I scramble toward Nate and shove him under the archway and back into the tunnel, crawling after him as fast as I can. But something solid clamps down on my foot and jerks me backward.

“Nate!” I yell, reaching out to him. A war of emotions fights across Nate’s face, but he grabs my hand and pulls. With my free hand I direct a blast of magic at the metal chain that’s squeezing the feeling out of my foot. The chain only tightens its grip. I turn my power toward Angelica instead, who has a firm hold on the other end of the chain. She tries to dodge, but a purple flame burns across her shoulder. She lets go with a cry of pain.