The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2) (6 page)

Bran pushes his hands into his pockets. “There’s nothing to say except don’t worry about it. Security has already been increased, the protective enchantments are currently being strengthened, and you have more important things to think about over the next few days.”

I glance at Ryn to see what he thinks of Bran’s words, but his face is turned away from me. Surely he must be more concerned about this whole thing than I am; his mother is involved in investigating the murder.

We reach the foyer to find most of our classmates and their mentors already there, some receiving last minute advice, some chatting to their assignment partners, and others simply standing around looking nervous. Dale looks over at us, shakes his head, and mouths something at Ryn that looks like
Bad luck, dude
. I turn my back on him without waiting to see if Ryn mouths anything back.

“Okay, trainees. Here it is.” Bran stands on the first step and looks down at us as he waits for silence. “Your big moment. Your final assignment. What happens over the course of the next few days will determine the direction your life takes after graduation.” His eyes move from one trainee to the next. “Remember that you can receive bonus points for completing the assignment and returning safely before Friday, but that doesn’t mean you should rush it.” His gaze stops on Dale. “You’ll likely make a stupid mistake and lose points instead.” He claps his hands together. “So, good luck, and off you go.”

Noise fills the foyer as trainees and mentors say goodbye and begin writing doorways on walls and the floor.

 “I know you can do this,” Tora says, pulling me into a tight hug. “But remember to be careful.”

“Always,” I say. “And try not to get struck by magical bolts of lightning while I’m gone.”

Tora steps back. “Don’t worry about the storm. We’re all going to be—”

“Oh, for the love of all things Seelie,” Ryn says. He opens a doorway in the air, grabs my arm, and pulls me in after him.

“Hey! I was still saying goodbye.”

“No, you were wasting time. Now keep your mind blank; I’m trying to direct the paths.”

I bite back a retort and try to think of nothing. The darkness melts away, and Ryn and I find ourselves standing on a perfectly manicured lawn, getting our first glimpse of the Harts’ home. It’s far bigger than I expected, and everything seems to be white and glass. White walls and pillars, square angles everywhere, and glass from floor to ceiling in just about every room. A wooden deck stretches across the side of the house, looking out over the garden. Umbrellas and loungers are arranged around a swimming pool with sparkling turquoise water that seems to disappear over one side of the deck. All in all, it seems an obscene amount of space for two people to live in.

“Flip,” Ryn says. “I thought our mentors said this assignment was boring.”

“Well, that was probably because we didn’t get to go to Egypt or Thailand or somewhere equally awesome like everyone else in our class.”

“But they’re probably staying in a shack in Thailand. This looks like it belongs on the cover of a property magazine.”

I look at him. “What do you know about property magazines?”

“I read.”

“While on assignment?”

“Of course. It gets boring waiting for the bad guys to show up.”

I shake my head and turn my gaze back to the house. “Okay. Day one: observation. Let’s get inside there and assess the situation.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryn says. Before I can take a step forward, he pulls me into a doorway in the air, and a second later we’re standing on the deck.

I shake his hand off my arm. “I wish you’d stop doing that. It would have taken us, what? Fifteen seconds to walk up here? But no, you always have to show off by opening doorways in the air.”

Ryn leans toward me with a grin and whispers, “Jealous,” as he walks past me and through an open sliding door. I take a deep remember-you’re-supposed-to-be-friends-now breath and follow him.

“You got your glamour on?” I ask. “We don’t want anyone seeing us now.”

“I should be asking you that,” he says with a glance over his shoulder at me. “Of the two of us, you’re the only one who’s broken that rule.”

“I did not break that rule,” I say with a huff. “He just happened to be able to see through my glamour.”

“Speaking of halfling boy,” Ryn says as we walk past a white lounge suite that looks as though no one’s backside has ever graced it, “what’s he up to these days? You heard anything from him since he decided to hand you over to the Unseelie Court?”

I pick up a strange elephant statue and pretend to examine it. “No comment.”

We wander through the house, taking our time. Every room is perfect, not a cushion or tall-stemmed flower out of place. Even the art on the walls and the framed black and white family photos are perfectly in line. It’s hard to imagine anyone lives here.

We come to a circular stairway leading both up and down. Ryn decides to go down, so I follow him. We may as well see everything together.

“Ah, looks like we’ve found the fun part of the house,” Ryn says as we enter a room decidedly less tidy than the rooms upstairs. A pool table fills half the room, and squishy grey couches are arranged in the other half. The table between the couches is covered in junk food and DVDs.

“Hey, Pixie Sticks,” Ryn says. “Look here.” He holds up a long, pink straw and shakes it, smirking at me. “Someone who can’t spell named a candy after you.”

“Look here.” I grab a DVD off the table. “Someone with no imagination named a movie after you.”

He stares at the cover. “
Dumb and Dumber
? Ha! You need to try harder than that, V.”

I throw the movie back onto the pile and sigh. “I’m having an off day.” I start climbing the stairs, leaving Ryn to roll a ball across the pool table.

I follow the smell of bacon and coffee and find the kitchen, a spotless room where every appliance seems to be from a matching set and every surface is free of fingerprints. A young woman in an apron hums quietly to herself as she prepares a meal.

“A bit late for breakfast, isn’t it?” I say to Ryn as he walks in behind me.

“Not when you don’t have to be at work early in the morning. Man, these guys must have the latest in every kind of human technology.” He leans in to take a closer look at the computer screen on the front of the fridge. “Their TV must be
amazing
.”

“You watch television on assignment too?” I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

“Yeah, you should try it, V. There are some highly addictive series out there.”

“Ryn! We’re supposed to be protecting humans when we’re on assignment, not hanging out in front of their televisions.”

“And how about if I’m not on assignment? Can I do it then?” He trails his hand over a marble countertop while watching me. I glare back. The woman continues humming, completely unaware of our presence.

“Cecelia, please bring the sugar,” calls a male voice from the next room.

The woman puts down a fork and hurries over to a cupboard, dodging past Ryn—though of course she’ll have no idea why she decided to do that—on her way. She grabs a pretty glass bowl that already has sugar in it. We follow her into a small dining room where a distinguished looking man is sitting at a rectangular table reading a newspaper. A mug sits on the table in front of him.

“Here you go, sir,” Cecilia says, placing the sugar bowl near a collection of jars already on the table. “I’m sorry I forgot to put it out.”

“Oh, not a problem,” says the man, barely glancing up from his newspaper as Cecilia returns to the kitchen.

“And this must be Mr. Hart himself,” Ryn says, leaning over the man’s shoulder to get a closer look at the article he’s reading.

“
What on earth?
” Mr. Hart drops the newspaper and jumps up, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. Ryn stumbles backward into me, clearly horrified that this man can see us.

“Oh crap,” I mutter. “
Not
a good start.”

“P-please,” stutters Mr. Hart, backing away from us. “Not now.”

I’m about to reassure him when I feel a tug on my arm, and, for the third time today, I find myself pulled into a doorway in the air.

“What the flipping hell was that?” Ryn demands when we step out behind a tree in the Harts’ garden.

“Well, obviously he can see us.”

“Yes, Violet, I gathered that. But
why
? He’s human.”

I shake my head. “This better not be another Nate case. I’ve had enough of halflings.”

“Do you think we’ll be accused of breaking rule number two now?” Ryn asks as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Probably not. That man already knows about faeries, and not because of us.”

“Yeah, I guess. But how are we supposed to observe him if he can see us?” Ryn throws his hands up in frustration.

“Um . . .” I twist a strand of hair around my finger while thinking. “Okay, what if we take the faerie paths back to the dining room, but instead of opening a full doorway, we open a space that’s just large enough to peek through?”

Ryn looks at me like I’m stupid. “So instead of two faeries in his dining room, he’ll see an eyeball floating in midair? Wow. Brilliant.”

“Obviously I’d try to be as inconspicuous as possible.” When Ryn doesn’t say anything, I add, “Do you have a better idea?”

“Fine, we can try it.”

I open a new doorway. We walk through while I think about the curtain in the room Mr. Hart is sitting in. Hopefully my floating eyeball will be less obvious against the pattern of the fabric. The darkness in front of us begins to dissolve away, but I catch the opening with my fingers, pinching the edge and closing it back up until there’s only a small opening. I look through it.

“Well, this is great,” Ryn says beside me. “I can’t see a thing now.”

I widen the opening with my fingers until it stretches in front of Ryn’s face, then I close up the space between us so that two separate openings exist. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

I put my eye to the tiny window and see Cecelia place a mug on the table in front of Mr. Hart. “Thank you,” he says as he straightens the pages of his newspaper. “I’m sorry I was so clumsy with the first one.”

She bobs her head and leaves the room. Mr. Hart glances around nervously, then pulls a phone from his pocket. He jabs a few buttons before bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello? David?” he says after several seconds. “It’s happened again. Two of them just appeared right here in the breakfast room.” He pauses. “Yes, faeries! What else would I be talking about? You haven’t forgotten our last few conversations, have you?” Another pause. “No, your mother doesn’t know anything. I don’t want to alarm her. But listen—” his eyes dart around the room “—we’re entertaining tomorrow night. Please come. I desperately need to—” He breaks off as a woman with a phone at her ear enters the room. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slides the phone back into his pocket and clears his throat as he reaches once more for his newspaper.

“We’re fortunate to see quite a lot of them,” the woman says into her phone as she pulls out a chair and sits down. “They’re actually staying with us at the moment while my son and daughter-in-law are overseas.” The woman’s skin appears flushed, and her hair, which is tied tightly on top of her head, is a deep shade of auburn that can’t possibly be natural given her age. She’s barefoot and wearing workout clothes. She leans back in her seat as Cecilia places a bowl of fruit salad in front of her. “Oh, no, they’re older than that now. Grace is thirteen and Jamie is eight. Mm hmm. Yes. Yes, we really
must
, it’s been
so
long since I saw you.” She looks at her husband and rolls her eyes. “Okay, goodbye now. Bye.” She drops the phone onto the table with an exasperated sigh.

Mr. Hart, who has regained his composure since his wife entered the room, says, “Something wrong, dear?”

“That woman!” Mrs. Hart picks up her spoon. “I don’t know why she keeps pretending we have anything in common anymore. I’m just going to have to ‘forget’ once again to make a plan to see her.” She spoons some fruit into her mouth. “Are Grace and Jamie up yet?”

“I haven’t seen them this morning,” Mr. Hart says. He puts his newspaper down and reaches for his mug.

I pull my eye away from the hole and look over at Ryn. “Aren’t children supposed to be at school at this time of day?”

“Maybe they’re on holiday.”

I return my gaze to the window and hear Mrs. Hart asking, “Who were you talking to when I walked into the room?”

“Oh, that was David.” Mr. Hart takes a sip from his mug and disappears behind his newspaper.

“David? You’ve been talking to him a lot in the past few days. Is something going on?”

Mr. Hart lowers the crinkled pages just enough to look at his wife over the top. “Of course not, dear. Can’t I have a simple conversation with my son?”

“No, I don’t think you can, actually. He only ever seems to call when he’s in trouble and needs something.”

“Well, trust me,” Mr. Hart says, lifting the newspaper once more. “He isn’t in trouble this time.”

“David. That’s the youngest son, right?” I say to Ryn.

“Yes.”

I watch Mr. Hart take a sip of his coffee. “I say we try some confusion potion right now and see if we can get the information out of him. I mean, it probably won’t be as easy as that, but if he’s confused enough he’ll tell us anything.”

“I would’ve suggested that myself, Violet, except for the part where he’ll be able to
see
us putting the potion in his coffee.”

“I’m not an idiot, Oryn. I do actually have a plan.” I close up the hole in front of my eye and think of the kitchen instead. A doorway opens near the stove where Cecelia is nudging a poached egg out of its mold and onto a plate. I sit down on the kitchen floor and remove my potions kit from my bag. By the time I’ve enlarged it and found the ready-made confusion potion, Cecelia is heading to the dining room with the plate in her hand. I jump up, run after her, and manage to throw a few drops onto a buttered piece of toast before she leaves the room.

Time to watch and wait. I observe Mr. Hart through the crack between the door and the wall. He eats quickly, washing the meal down with a few gulps of his coffee. “Well, I’ll see you after golf,” he says to his wife. He folds the newspaper and leaves it on the table. “You’ll confirm with the caterers for tomorrow night?”