Masquerade (Creepy Hollow, #4) (9 page)

*

There is a bird chirping in my ear. A really irritating bird. I swat sleepily at it, knowing it’s only Filigree in one of his most annoying forms: the I-will-chirp-at-you-until-you-wake-up form. I try to turn over and find myself lying on a hard surface. That’s when I remember what happened the night before.

I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I feel like I’ve only been asleep a few hours. Looking around, I find Ryn sitting up against one of the couches. He’s watching Calla as she sleeps. He also happens to be shirtless. “Whoa, this isn’t the Training Center, you know,” I tell him. “There’s a certain level of clothing etiquette in this house, and you’re currently violating it.”

He reaches for his jacket. “I believe you’re the one who tore my clothes off in the first place, and now you’re complaining?”

“Trust me, there was no
tearing
involved. You’ll have to get that fantasy fulfilled somewhere else.”

Instead of a quick comeback, he stares at me until I begin to feel uncomfortable. I look at Calla instead. “So . . . how did you get her out of that cage?”

“With magic. I heard you and Zell attempting to blast each other apart and realized there was no alarm in the dungeon. I just drew the cage over to the edge of the water and forced it open. It was pretty easy.” He stands up and puts the jacket on. “Well, I’d better get her back to my father. Can you take care of the Council stuff? You know, telling them what we saw?”

“Uh, yes. Of course.”

He carefully lifts Calla into his arms and walks to the wall. “And V?” I look up. He hesitates, then, with more sincerity than I would ever have thought possible for him, he says, “Thank you. I mean it.”

*

The head of the Guild Council, a stern woman with steel grey eyes that—unfortunately for her—match the grey in her white-blonde hair, leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. “So let me get this straight.” She tucks a stray wisp of hair back into her bun. “You snuck into the home of the youngest Unseelie prince, you found your way to his dungeon where you saw people locked up in giant bird cages, you rescued Mr Larkenwood’s younger sister, and the three of you escaped unharmed.”

Well, not entirely unharmed, but I didn’t think it was necessary to tell her about Ryn’s experience with the poisoned glass. “I know it sounds far-fetched, Councilor Starkweather, but please, you have to believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you, all right. The Unseelie prince has been under investigation for quite some time. Do you have any proof though? Because without proof, it will be very difficult to take further action.”

“Only this.” I hand over the folded papers I stuffed into my boot the night before. “I can’t prove that I got them at Zell’s home, but perhaps some of the names written there will help you. Or maybe you have a sample of Zell’s handwriting that you can match these pages to.”

“Hmm.” She unfolds the first page and scans it. “Well, it’s better than nothing. Thank you.”

I push my chair back and stand.

“One more thing, Miss Fairdale.” She rises and looks directly into my eyes. “You are not to speak of this to anyone, do you understand? Not even your mentor. Please pass the message on to Mr Larkenwood, after which I do not want either of you to even
think
of the matter again. We now know there is at least one spy within the Guild, and we cannot afford for information to fall into the wrong hands. This is a matter for the Council to deal with.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.” I turn to leave.

“And another thing.” She waits until I’m looking at her once more. “The Guild does not approve of trainees—or fully trained guardians, for that matter—conducting their own private missions. I understand Mr Larkenwood’s desperation to find his sister, but he should have come to the Guild with his information. Please tell him to come and see me during the week.”

I leave Councilor Starkweathers’s office with a smile on my face. I’m looking forward to the conversation with Ryn in which I get to say ‘I told you so’.

I head down to the training level where the lockers are located. Most fifth years haven’t used their lockers since lessons ended for us a few months ago, but my locker is where Uri delivers the occasional extra potions I ask for. I write my code onto the metal surface with my stylus and pull it open. My heart flutters uncomfortably when I see the small brown envelope.

I tear it open and turn it upside down over my palm. The same vial with the word
Forget
on the side rolls out. The color is different though; instead of being clear, the potion now has a pink tinge. I slip my fingers inside the envelope and pull out a note covered in Uri’s awkward and untidy handwriting.

What you asked of me is very complicated. I have tried my best to concoct a potion that will allow you to forget your feelings for a specific person, but I have never done that before, and obviously have no way of testing the final potion. I strongly suggest that you do not take it. Please consider my advice.

I fill the pool in my bathing room with multicolored bubbles. The orange ones smell like peach, the pink ones like raspberry, and the green ones like lime. The green bubbles are my least favorite, the ones I pop first while soaking in the water and mulling over Uri’s note.

I want to forget the hurt Nate has caused me. Of course I do. But if Uri isn’t sure of what he’s created, then it’s probably a bad idea to take the potion. I certainly don’t want to wind up with some nasty side effect, like a third arm or a heart of stone. But . . .

Ugh, I hate this!

I slap at a few bubbles that have drifted into the air, wishing I could slap Nate instead. Every time I think of him, every time I remember Scarlett whispering into his ear, I feel a physical pain tightening my insides. It was easy enough to forget while I was fighting for my life in Zell’s dungeon, but that’s over. There’s nothing now but training, our final assignment, graduation, and whatever comes after that.

I cross my arms on the edge of the pool and rest my chin on them. I stare at the tiny vial balanced on the stone a short distance from my head. I should just take the potion and deal with whatever the consequences may be. Perhaps if I’m lucky, I won’t even wake up after taking it.

“No,” I tell myself out loud. I lean out of the water, grab the vial, and toss it into the emergency kit sitting open by the doorway. “Stop being utterly pathetic. You’ve killed monsters. You’ve fought evil faeries. You can certainly handle a few hurt feelings.”

Filigree, curled up in snow leopard form in the grass at the edge of the room, raises his head and gives me a quizzical look.

“Never mind me,” I mutter as I slide back into the water. “Just talking to myself again.”

I climb out of the pool once I’ve popped most of the large bubbles. The rest disappear with a flick of my hand and a few whispered words. After putting some clothes on, I sit on one of the rocks and conjure up some hot air. As I run my fingers through my damp hair, I wonder if Tora is back yet and whether I can convince her to give me an extra assignment tomorrow. I need to make up for whatever I missed in the past week.

I wander back into my room while sifting through my emergency kit. Nothing seems to be broken from the vial I threw in just now. I close it up and leave it on my dresser.

“I was right.”

In shock, I swivel around. Ryn is lying on my bed, one hand behind his head, the other holding one of my poetry books open. “‘
The colors and the lights that glow, the music and the masks. The people swaying to and fro in the enchanted dance
’. By A. R. Thorntree.” He snaps the book shut and lets out a contented sigh. “I love it when you’re wrong.”

“How did you get in here?” I demand.

He flexes his fingers and grins. “I have skills.”

I cross my arms. “You have skills that outweigh centuries-old protective magic?”

“Fine. My skills aren’t that good.” He puts both hands behind his head. “You gave me access, remember?”

“Uh, no. I certainly don’t remember giving
you
, of all people, access to my home.”

“It was a long time ago. You got tired of always having to come down the stairs to let me in. And after you gave me access we never spoke about it again, because it was, after all, against the rules, and your dad would have flipped if he found out.” I stare at him. That does ring a very tiny bell in the back of my mind. “Didn’t you notice you didn’t have to let me in yesterday when I came back with your ‘borrowed’ dress?”

Crap, how did I miss that? I’m a guardian, I’m supposed to notice
everything
. Speaking of which . . . I abruptly become aware of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt. I grab the nearest object—my empty training bag—and hold it in front of my legs.

“Oh, relax,” says Ryn. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I chuck the bag at him and lengthen the T-shirt with a bit of magic. “Yeah, but in case you haven’t noticed, Ryn, I’ve changed a little since we were five years old.”

Ryn clears his throat. “Actually, it was far more recent than that, and yes, I did notice that you’ve—”

“Excuse me?” He had so better be making that up. “What exactly do you mean by ‘far more recent’?”

“Well, most would consider last week far more recent than twelve years ago.”

“Last week?” He is definitely making this up.

“Yeah.” I can see laughter in his eyes. “You fell out of a mountain and wound up in desperate need of healing. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that already.”

“But—I—” My face is on fire. “Your mom healed me.” Oh, please dear Seelie Queen, let that be true. If it turns out Ryn was the one who had to put his hands on my skin to heal me, I may actually pass out from embarrassment.

“You
assumed
my mother healed you. She would have, had she been around. Unfortunately, she wasn’t.”

Okay, here it comes. The passing out. Surely one person can’t handle this much embarrassment and remain standing?

“Relax, Pixie Sticks. You still had your underwear on. Very cute, by the way. I would have guessed boring and black, just like the rest of your clothes, so it was somewhat of a surprise to see little pink hearts.”

Oh. My. Freak.

Of all the people in the world to catch me in my underwear,
why
did it have to be Ryn? And, sadly, he’s right about the boring and black. I only created that pattern on my underwear because I was trying out the color spells Raven taught me that night.

“Would it help if I told you that you make quite an attractive half-naked unconscious person?”

“No!” I press my hands to my overheated face while Ryn continues to stare at me with an innocent expression. I decide to pretend it never happened. I walk over to the bed. “Move.” I push him to the other side so I can lift the covers. “You’re in trouble, by the way. Councilor Starkweather would like to see you next week.”

“Ooh, another one-on-one with the Silver Starky. What did I do this time?”

I raise my voice and try to mimic the head Council member. “We can’t have trainees and guardians conducting their own missions.” I consider adding an ‘I told you so’, but considering how unconcerned Ryn looks, it wouldn’t really have the desired effect.

“Not a problem,” he says. “I’ll get her to see things my way.” He watches as I smooth the bed covers over my legs. “That is so not your T-shirt.”

I look down at the
There’s no place like 127.0.0.1
printed on the T-shirt I’m wearing. “Yeah, I have no idea what it means. My own shirt got ripped up during one of my assignments, so I just helped myself to this one. I figured the guy wouldn’t mind if he knew I’d just saved him from a nascryl.”

Ryn nods.

Things start to feel weird.

“Um, I wanted to ask you something,” I say as I wrap my arms around myself. I’m pretty sure the T-shirt isn’t see-through, but I feel awkward in it nonetheless. “How did you get away from Zell? You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No.” Ryn punches one of my extra pillows and lies on it. “These disc things fell out of his pocket, and he looked really worried about it. So . . . I took them.”

I sit up straight. “You took the discs? Did you use them?”

“Use them? I didn’t even know what they were. No, they seemed really valuable to him, so I threw them into that big pool beneath the cages. He was furious. Looked like he wanted to murder me. But I guess rescuing his precious discs was more important than finishing our fight.” Ryn looks thoughtful. “He did manage to embed some poisonous glass in my back as I ran out though, so he’s probably hoping I didn’t make it.”

I let out a breath. “You got lucky, Ryn. I honestly didn’t think you’d get out of there.”

“Normally I’d be offended by a comment like that, but, to be honest, I thought the same thing a few times.”

We sit in silence for a few moments before I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “Okay, spit it out. What are you really doing here?”

He lets out a long sigh and sits up. He bites his lip, then presses his hands together. “Uh . . . so, I’m a real jerk,” he says. “I know that. And it’s intentional, and I do have a reason for acting that way, but not when it comes to you. With you, I have no excuse. We were really good friends, and I never should have blamed you for what happened to Reed.” He looks down at his lap. “I always knew deep down that I was being irrational, but it’s like you said. I wanted to blame someone, because if there was no one to blame, if it was just a silly accident, then it all seemed so horribly pointless. So—” he takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye “—I’m really sorry.”

It’s a while before I find my voice. “Wow. I’m impressed.”

“You should be. I practiced that out loud at least ten times before I came over here.” He hesitates, probably waiting for a response, but I can’t think what to say. Part of me is still trying to figure out whether he’s being sincere or if this is some big joke I’m about to find myself the butt of. “What?” he asks. “You look like you don’t entirely believe me.”

I sigh. “I just . . . don’t get it. Two days ago you still hated me, and now this?” I narrow my eyes. “Do you need another favor? Is that what this is about?”

He shakes his head and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. “I guess I can’t blame you for jumping to that conclusion.” He stares up at my skylight for a while before looking back at me. “I’m just really grateful for what you did for Calla, even after everything I’ve said and done to you over the years. It kind of . . . made me look at you differently.”

For some reason, I feel a flush rising in my cheeks. “And then you came over here, pinched one of my poetry books, and proceeded to take great delight in proving me wrong.”

Light sparkles in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Well, I couldn’t resist that part.”

“Enjoy the feeling while it lasts.” I poke him with my toe from under the covers. “You won’t be proving me wrong again any time soon.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Challenge accepted.”

I whack him on the side of the head with the nearest pillow. “How about you leave now so I can sleep?”

“One last thing.” He sits back. “What do you think about, I don’t know, maybe being . . . sort of friends?” He raises an eyebrow and extends a hand toward me.

“Sort of friends?” I eye his outstretched hand for a moment, then reach forward and grasp it. “I guess we could try that.”