The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) (39 page)

Jay, Asami and I receive our next assignment the following morning. An elf walked into a restaurant in the Creepy Hollow Shoppers’ Clearing last night and attacked a young faerie girl. Then he ran off into the forest and disappeared. This morning another attack was reported by someone coming off the Tip-Top Path. Fortunately, her boyfriend was there to save her, but the elf got away once again. Now it’s our job to track him down and make sure he never attacks anyone else.

We need to interview witnesses to try and establish who the elf is, why he’d want to attack these girls, and where he might be now. It takes time, which is good, because I need a distraction. I need something to keep me from counting down the time until Zell is supposed to meet with his followers to share his plans.

Ryn and I spend every evening in the gargan tree, which is how I end up missing a visit from Dad. I wanted to kick myself when I got home and saw his note lying on my bed. He apologized for not being able to visit sooner and said he had no idea when he’d get the opportunity to come again.
Something big is going on
, he wrote.
Stay safe.
I wish I could tell him about D and that I’ll soon know when the big showdown is happening. Surely he can come out of hiding then and help us fight?

On the day of Zell’s meeting with his followers, I keep the comm-glass in my pocket wherever I go. I just have to be careful not to sit on it. The entire time I’m with Ryn in the gargan tree, I expect the glass to buzz in my pocket. It doesn’t. I get home and stare at it for a while, but still it doesn’t buzz. Squirrel-shaped Filigree looks at me oddly from the foot of the bed, as if to say,
Why is the light still on? When can we sleep?

“I’m not sleeping until I’ve heard something from D,” I tell him. “You’re welcome to go and sleep in another room where it’s dark, if you want.”

With an annoyed sniff, he jumps to the ground and scurries under the bed.

“Or you could sleep under the bed, I guess.” I continue staring at the comm-glass until my neck starts to get sore. I lie down and place the comm-glass on the pillow beside me.
I won’t sleep, I won’t sleep, I won’t sleep.

The next thing I know, I’m lying on my back, the grey light of dawn is peeking through my enchanted skylight, and there’s a frenzied buzzing beside my ear. I sit up in fright and clutch the comm-glass tightly, blinking sleep away.

I know everything. Come to the Rose Hall.

I reach for my stylus on the bedside table.
Coming now
.

I pull on my boots, stuff my stylus into one of them, throw the eternity necklace over my head, and hurry into a faerie path. Rose Hall is situated at one end of the Creepy Hollow Shoppers’ Clearing. A market is held inside there once a week, and the hall is also used for large functions sometimes, like parties. Otherwise, it remains empty.

I walk along the empty path running between the store fronts. Rose Hall is built into the stocky widdern tree at the end of the lane. There’s no doorway carved into the trunk like some of the shops here, but the words ‘Rose Hall’ are written on a sign hammered into the ground right next to it.

Will I be able to open a doorway into the hall? I’ve never tried before, so I don’t know if it has the same protective magic our homes have. I don’t see why it should, since there isn’t much inside to steal. I hold my stylus against the trunk of the tree and hesitate. I look around, remembering that I told Ryn I wouldn’t meet D in a secluded spot. Oops. I was in such a rush that I didn’t think about that until now.

Is this a trap? An ambush? Is Rose Hall full of Unseelie faeries waiting to attack and capture me? Perhaps the notes and the comm-glass were from Zell himself. Perhaps this whole thing is just his elaborate way of getting me to come willingly to him.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Trap or not, I can’t back out now. I need to know what’s inside this hall. So I take a moment to gather enough power from my core to stun a faerie or two. I hold the swirling ball of power above one hand while I write a doorway onto the tree with the other.

It works.

A section of the tree melts away. I take a few careful steps forward into the darkened hall. The only light in here is the pale light of dawn filtering through an enchanted stained-glass window at the far end of the hall. I slip my stylus away and create an orb of light. I send it up to the ceiling where it illuminates an empty hall.

There is no one here.

Was this a joke, after all? No, it couldn’t be. How would D have known about the fire if she wasn’t part of Zell’s inner circle? I turn slowly on the spot. There’s nothing in here except for a few scattered leaves and . . . What is that? My eyes fall on a cylindrical shape on the floor in the far corner of the hall. I walk toward it, making sure to stay constantly alert for any movements or sounds.

I reach the corner of the hall and bend over to pick up the object. It’s a scroll. A small spike of adrenaline shoots through my veins. This must be it. Why else would a scroll be lying here if not for me to pick up? I absorb the ball of power back through my hand, then pull the string away from the scroll and hastily uncurl the pages.

Yes! This is it!

It mentions all the Guilds, as well as the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Wow, is Zell going to try and take over
everything
in one night? Does he have an army big enough? I scan through the pages quickly—details, details, details—searching for the most important piece of information.
When
is this going to happen? Finally, I find it, and ice freezes in my blood when I see the number.

Three days.

In three days our whole world is going to erupt.

*

I run across the foyer of the Guild—protective enchantments in the domed ceiling? Check—and up the stairway. Up and up until I reach the Council members’ level. I fly along the corridors toward Councilor Starkweather’s office. I skid to a halt in front of her door and rap my knuckles against it. No answer. I try again. Still no answer. She isn’t here. And of course she isn’t, I realize, because even though she’s a workaholic, it’s five o’freaking clock in the morning.

With a frustrated groan, I stride back down the passage. This is just fantastic. I finally get my moment to prove to Councilor Starkweather how useful I can be, and she isn’t even around. And I can’t wait until she gets here because I need to show this to someone
now
. It’s beyond urgent.

I wonder if there’s any chance Tora is here this early. She’ll know who I should give this information to. I jog back down the stairs and hurry along her corridor. I’m about to knock on her door when I see someone even better. “Bran!” I run up to him. “You’re part of the team that’s investigating Zell, right?”

With a sigh he says, “You know I am, Vi. You’ve already interrogated me, and I’ve told you I can’t give you any details.”

“I know, I know, but you need to see this.” I shove the scroll into his hand. “It’s from someone at the Unseelie Court. She sent me a letter and said she wants to take Zell down just as badly as we do.”

Bran scans the first page with a frown on his face before looking up at me. “Is this a joke?”

“That’s what I thought when I got the first note from her, but it isn’t. She told me there would be a fire at the London Guild, and there was. Then she sent me this glass thing so she’d be able to contact me when she had all the information.” I pull the comm-glass out of my pocket and show it to him.

He takes it from me. “I haven’t seen one of these before,” he mutters, turning it over several times. “She contacted you before the London Guild fire?”

“Yes. The day before.”

“And you haven’t told anyone about this until now?”

“Well, no.”

“Violet! Why not?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s childish, but I was so mad that Councilor Starkweather refused to involve me in the Zell investigation. I wanted to prove that my input could be valuable and that she was wrong not to include me, so—”

“Look, Vi, as someone who’s dealt directly with Zell, your input
is
valuable, but you have to see that a complex and dangerous investigation such as this one is more suited to guardians with decades—
centuries
, in some cases—of experience.
You’re not there yet.
It was entirely inappropriate of you to keep this information to yourself. You should have known that.”

Crap. I am
so
not used to disappointing my superiors.

“I’m sorry.” I hang my head. “But,” I continue carefully, “what would you have done differently if I had told you about it? This woman only wanted to give
me
the information.”

“We would have followed you to make sure you were safe and that it wasn’t some kind of ambush, or that somebody didn’t place a tracker of some sort on you when you weren’t looking.”

“But . . . I didn’t actually meet with any real person.”

“That isn’t the point, Vi!” He clenches the papers in his hand. “The point is that you should have told us about this earlier.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry
.” I really am. “But this is happening in
three days
, Bran. We need to do something. Don’t you need to have a meeting with all the other Council members, like, immediately? Don’t we need to plan so that we’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, scanning his eyes once more over the pages as he paces across the width of the corridor. He stops. “Why haven’t our Seers Seen this?”

Hmm. Good point. “I don’t know. Maybe they’ll start getting glimpses of it now that the final plan is in place.”

Bran’s expression grows doubtful as he looks at the pages in his hand. “I’m not sure we can trust this information. It could be that someone is trying to mislead us.”

“I guess it could be. But what if it isn’t? We can’t
not
do something about this.”

Bran squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something I can’t hear.

“So, will you call a meeting?”

“Of course,” Bran snaps. I can’t remember him ever snapping at anyone before. He shuffles through the pages and holds the last one up. “Three days,” he mutters. “We can be prepared in three days.”

“Wait, do that again,” I say. I take the page from him and hold it up to the light. The faint outline of the Unseelie Queen’s insignia becomes visible in the center of the page.

“Well,” Bran says, “at least we know these pages really did originate inside the Unseelie Palace.”

Which, I suppose, still doesn’t confirm that the information is legitimate.

“I need to go,” Bran says. “I’m taking this with me.” He holds up the comm-glass before striding away from me toward the stairway. “And do not tell anyone about this, Vi. I don’t want panic spreading.”

*

I sit in the gargan tree and wait for Ryn. I spent all day trying to focus on the elf assignment and, for the most part, failed miserably. All I could think about was the fact that we might all be fighting for our lives in a few days’ time. On the one hand, it’s a good thing the showdown is finally upon us, and we can stop wondering if and when the carpet is going to be yanked from beneath our feet. On the other hand, what if we lose? It’s unlikely since we now know it’s coming, and we’re
guardians
, after all. This is what we’re trained for. But . . . what if there are too many of them and we don’t have enough power?

When I left this evening, Council members from all over the fae realm were arriving. They tried to remain cool, greeting one another as if nothing was wrong—probably for the sake of the confused guardians around them who have no idea yet what’s going on—but I could see the unease behind their smiles. Adair and the few other senior guardians I passed on my way out also looked grave. They must have been told already.

I’m starting to wish I hadn’t gone off on my own to retrieve the information from D. If the day arrives and no one shows up to attack us, well, it will be a good thing, but I’ll also be in monumental trouble. I’m the one who brought this information to the Guild, so I’ll be the one responsible for causing all the panic and the meetings and the preparation and then . . . the anticlimax.

Crap. Why didn’t I think of this possibility before I went charging off on my own little mission? And where is Ryn? I glance up at the position of the moon. He’s usually here by now. I send him an amber message, but I get no response. I try to remember if he told me he’d be working tonight. My memory comes up blank.

I wander through the faerie paths and come out in my sitting room. Perhaps Filigree will play a card game with me to take my mind off things. We never did finish that game Ryn interrupted a few weeks ago. I climb the stairs and find Filigree curled up in armadillo form on my pillow. I haven’t seen that one in a while. I flop onto my stomach on the bed and poke him—just as a buzzing sound comes from my bedside table.

My amber? No, it’s in my pocket. So that only leaves . . . the second comm-glass. I yank the drawer open and stick my hand in, pushing the eternity necklace aside to get to the rectangular piece of glass.