CHAPTER
TWELVE
“Tell me again what we’re doing in here?” Gemma asks on Monday afternoon.
I lift the goggles hanging around my neck and position them over my eyes. “My dad told me to paint. So I asked if I could paint the walls in the guest bedroom. He said yes.”
“I see.” Gemma gives me a doubtful look. “I’m guessing he didn’t know you meant this.”
I look around the bare room at the balloons of paint floating in the air. “He didn’t ask me to be specific, so …” I shrug. “I didn’t give him specifics.”
“Uh huh. Hopefully he appreciates your design style.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. Mom, on the other hand, will probably freak out when she wakes up and sees it. Who knows when that will happen, though, so let’s not worry about things we can’t control.” I push my shoulders back and lift my arms into position. A bow glitters in my grip a second later, with an arrow ready to fire. I aim for a balloon and say, “Let’s get this redecorating party started.”
“Wait.” Gemma puts her hand on my arm. “Are you sure it’s safe to shoot arrows in such a confined space?”
I lower the bow. “It’s not that confined. If it was, I’d be having a panic attack.” At the questioning look on her face, I add, “Claustrophobia.”
“Ah.”
“We’ll go one at a time, and that way we won’t shoot each other.”
“Okay. That’s comforting.”
“And if we make holes in the wall, we’ll just fix them.”
“Right.”
I raise my arms again, pull the arrow back, follow my chosen balloon for a few moments as it drifts lazily through the air, then fire. With a loud pop, bright green paint shoots out and splatters across two walls, the floor, the ceiling, and both of us. Gemma shrieks and jumps backward. I laugh as I wipe green paint off my goggles. “I told you to wear old clothes, didn’t I?”
“You did. I’m glad I listened.” Gemma pulls her arm back as a knife forms between her thumb and forefinger. While she looks around for a balloon to aim at, I free my arrow from the wall it’s embedded in and let it vanish. As I skip back to Gemma’s side, she aims for a balloon behind me. Her arm flashes forward, and purple paint explodes everywhere. She squeals again, then laughs and says, “That was oddly satisfying.”
“I know!” I get as far back as I can, choose a blue balloon, and line up my second shot. “Where are Perry and Ned this afternoon?”
“Perry had some extra training. Ned was being weird. He said he doesn’t want to see you at the moment.”
“Oh.” I try not to be offended by that comment and shoot the balloon instead.
When it’s safe to open our mouths again, Gemma wipes a hand across hers before saying, “Don’t worry about him. It took him months before he was comfortable around me. I’m sure he’s still just getting used to you. He’s strange like that.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah.” She pulls a throwing star from the air this time. “What’s the smoky white stuff in some of the balloons?”
“Those are mini tornado charms. I thought the wind blasting out of them might create some cool patterns in the wet paint.”
“That sounds … a little bit destructive. I’m going to leave those ones to you.” She flicks her wrist forward, and pink paint flings itself across the room a second later.
“What happened at the Guild today?” I ask as I reach for a knife. “Anything exciting?”
“Not really. Some lessons, some training. Lily and Rosa were absent, but I suppose that’s expected given that Saskia was their best friend. Oh, there was something interesting.” She ducks her head as I aim at a red balloon. Red paint adds itself to our canvas, and Gemma continues. “Some genius inventor guy has finally figured out what combination of spells to apply to the replay devices so they can now play sound. Apparently these spells have been in the testing phase over the past few months, but now they’re ready to sell to the public.” She wipes her paint-splattered hands on her pants and reaches into the air for an arrow. “Your friendly mentor read the letter to us this morning. There are teams going around to all the Guilds to add these spells to the surveillance and assignment replay devices. I think they’re coming to us tomorrow.”
“I’m sure Olive had something negative to say about that.”
“Of course. She said, ‘I wonder how much we have to pay this teenage know-it-all to add sound to the assignments that are painful enough to watch as it is.’”
I shake my head and laugh. “She is so predictable. And that was an excellent impersonation, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Gemma pulls her arm back, then throws the arrow at an orange balloon.
We finish up all the paint balloons before I finally pull a throwing star from the air and aim at one of the tornado balloons. “I’m not quite sure what’s going to happen with this one, so maybe just … brace yourself.” Gemma nods, raises her fists, and bends her knees slightly, as though preparing to fight off a great force. My hand snaps forward, the balloon pops, and a great gust of wind swirls around us. I throw my hands out to keep from falling as the wind spins me around and my ponytail flaps wildly around my face. I can’t see anything, I can barely breathe, and I’m wondering if this was a gigantic mistake.
Then the wind vanishes. Gemma and I stumble to a halt and grab onto each other. “Whoa,” she says. “Don’t do that again. I think one was enough.”
I nod, looking around the room. The tornado wind has spun streaks of color around the room so that the splatters all appear to point in the same direction, one color bleeding into the next in an infinite spiral.
After admiring our work, Gemma and I head to my bathing room to clean up. “Oh, I didn’t realize my mom was trying to get hold of me,” Gemma says after washing her hands and fishing her amber out of the safety of her pocket. She frowns at the screen, then sucks in a shocked breath.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Oh no,” she murmurs. “This is bad. This is really bad.” She looks up. “Remember I said Lily and Rosa weren’t at the Guild today? It’s because they both started getting sick last night. Healers managed to slow down the symptoms, but they both …” Gemma’s voice catches as a sheen of tears appears over her eyes. “They passed away this morning.”
* * *
“I leave for one weekend,” Ryn says, “and people wind up dying from a disease no one’s ever heard of while my little sister is accused of being the one spreading this deadly disease.”
I hug a cushion to my chest as though it’s the only thing holding me together. “Yes. This is why you shouldn’t leave.” I clear my throat to try to rid my voice of its wobble. “I hope your weekend was better than ours.”
“It was actually two and a half weeks, but yes, it was much better than the weekend you and Dad had.”
“I’m so sorry,” Vi says. “I wish communication was easier through the Kaleidos shimmer. We would have come back immediately if we’d known.”
“It wouldn’t have made much difference,” Dad says, returning from the kitchen with a tray of food. It’s nothing spectacular, just a few snack items he’s quickly gathered together. Normally I’d be happy with this kind of dinner, but right now I feel too ill to eat anything.
“Dad’s right,” I say as he places the tray of food on the coffee table between the four of us. “You don’t work at the Guild anymore, and Ryn isn’t allowed anywhere near the case, so it’s not as though either of you could do anything to help.”
“I may not be allowed near the case, but that doesn’t mean I can’t gather information so we know at least some of what’s going on.”
I look up from my spot on the floor. “What did you hear today?”
“It wasn’t only those two girls who died. One of the night guards and one of the Fish Bowl setting designers, both of whom danced with Saskia at the ball on Friday night, also fell ill last night and passed away.”
No, I wail s
ilently. Not another two people. I release a shuddering breath and say, “So … this disease is spread by touch then? And it doesn’t act immediately. People fall sick a day or two later. So by the time we know who we shouldn’t be touching, it’s too late.”
“Seems to be that way,” Ryn says.
“This could be catastrophic,” Vi whispers. “This disease is going to spread quickly. Exponentially. Every Guild member and their families could be wiped out within weeks.”
Ryn grasps her hand. “You need to go back to Kaleidos. I don’t care that the time difference is the other way around at the moment. You need to be somewhere safe, where this disease can’t—”
“Okay, let’s not panic about this,” Dad says. “Healers are working nonstop to figure out a cure for this thing. They’ve already managed to slow it down somewhat, so they’re on the right track. I’m sure it won’t be long before they create a cure or an antidote or something.”
I shake my head and murmur, “You can’t be sure of anything.”
“Well, at least I’m looking on the bright side instead of using words like ‘catastrophic.’”
“Someone needs to visit those witches,” I say. “If they’re the ones who made this spell, then they probably know the cure.”
“I heard something about that too,” Ryn says. “In the lunchtime queue in the dining hall. Someone was telling Councilor Merrydale that his team searched every tunnel in the area you told him about, but no one found any hint of a witch.”
My grip on the cushion tightens. “That can’t be right. I didn’t just imagine them.” I stare at the food that no one’s eating. “I suppose it has been several days since I saw them. Perhaps they’ve left already. Or maybe those guardians didn’t look in the right place.”
“Maybe,” Ryn says, but he sounds unsure. As if he doubts the existence of these witches in the first place. I’m about to argue that I did not simply make them up when Vi interrupts.
“Why start with that girl in particular? Was it a random choice, or a calculated move?” She turns to me. “What was her name again?”
“Saskia Starkweather.”
“Saskia Starkweather,” Ryn repeats slowly.
“Sounds familiar,” Vi says. “Oh.” She sits up a little straighter. “Back when Ryn and I were trainees, the head Councilor at the time was named Starkweather. She died in the Guild explosion. I wonder if Saskia was a relative of hers.”
“Should be easy enough to find out,” Ryn says.
“Just don’t let anyone know you’re looking into this case,” Dad warns.
“Genealogy records are public. I won’t need permission to see them.”
Dad nods, and the four of us stare at the food for a while. “Somebody needs to eat something,” Dad says eventually.
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
“Cal, you need to eat.”
“You didn’t bring plates, Dad,” Ryn says.
Dad lets out a long-suffering sigh as he stands. “I didn’t think we’d need them, but if you insist.”
As Dad leaves the room, Ryn leans closer and lowers his voice. “I know we’re all thinking it, so one of us may as well say it out loud. Is he the one doing this? Has he been waiting all this time to make his move?”
I know without a doubt that the ‘he’ we’re talking about is Chase. “You’re right,” I say, knowing this is not the time for secrets. “I have been wondering if it’s him. He … he was there that night.”
“What?” Ryn and Vi’s furious whispers coincide.
“Yes. I saw him in the ballroom, but I lost sight of him before I could get close enough to speak to him.”
Ryn looks at Vi, then back at me. “That’s too much of a coincidence. He must be involved somehow.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not.”
“How could he not be involved?”
“I don’t know, but …”
Ryn rolls his eyes. “Right. The two of you were ‘friends’ so you don’t want to think that he could do something this terrible.”
“I don’t want to think he could do it either,” Vi says quietly.
“But he could,” Ryn says. “And he has. He’s killed many, many Guild members in the past. Don’t forget who he really is.”
“Who he was,” Vi points out. “He may not be that person anymore.”
Ryn shakes his head. “We need to go to the Council.”
“And tell them what?” I demand. “That Vi and I have seen Lord Draven? Who’s going to believe us? They’ll think we’re—”
Dad walks back in then. Vi grabs an apple from the table, as though that was the reason she was leaning forward. Ryn scratches his ear. I try not to look guilty.
“Perhaps we should talk about something else,” Dad suggests as he places a pile of small plates on the table. “This is all getting very depressing.” He takes a seat and turns to Ryn and Vi. “Have you thought of any names for the baby?”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
I’m clawing my way through dark water with a serpentine beast chasing me. I can see the edge of the pool, but my arms move in slow motion. The serpent is catching up. I know it; I can sense it. My fingers reach for the edge of the pool, almost there, almost there. They graze the edge—and something bites down on my ankle, tugging me back into the depths. I scream in pain and terror, my voice lost in a stream of bubbles. A hand wraps around my wrist and tugs upwards. With a great splash, I’m pulled from the water. As I lie dripping wet on the stone floor, looking up at my rescuer, I realize that this is just another nightmare. With the realization, the pain fades away. The edges of the dream become fuzzy, and the person kneeling beside me comes into focus.
“Piker’s Inn on Ratafia Island,” Gaius says quickly. “If you remember nothing else when you wake up, remember that. Piker’s Inn on Ratafia Island. Tell Chase.”
I blink at him as he becomes clearer. Why does this part of the dream seem so much more real than everything else? “This is a crazy question,” I say, “but are you real?”
Gaius looks startled. “You’re still asleep. You’re still here.”
“I … I know.”
“Yes, yes, I’m real,” he says hurriedly. “It’s a Griffin Ability. One of the many I’ve been forced to take. They didn’t realize I could use it to travel into dreams. I tried contacting Chase, but he has so much protection around his mind, it’s impossible. I tried others on the team as well, but I don’t know if they heard enough before they woke.”
“This is crazy,” I murmur.
“No!” He grips my hand. “It’s real. I’m real.” He starts to grow fuzzier and smaller, as though I’m being pulled away from him. “Piker’s Inn, Ratafia Island!” he shouts. “Don’t forget when you wake up! Please don’t forget!”
* * *
I’m awake before my eyelids open. I sit up, pushing my hair away from my face and rubbing my eyes. This is the real world. This—me sitting on my bed, my blurry eyes focusing on the clock—is real. And yet … the end of that dream felt more real than anything else I’ve ever dreamt. What if it was real? I lean over and pick up my amber and stylus from my bedside table. I stare at the blank amber for several more moments. Then, before I can change my mind, I write Chase a message.
You probably won’t get this, but if you do, and you haven’t found Gaius yet, check Piker’s Inn on Ratafia Island. P.S. I don’t want to hear back from you.
That last bit sounds rather childish, but I send the message anyway. Chances are that Chase won’t even receive it, so there’s no point in agonizing over the wording. I drop the amber onto the bed beside me and rub my temples. Dad will be off to work shortly, if he hasn’t already left, and I’ll be spending another day trapped inside a house that feels as though it’s getting smaller and smaller. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday … and now Wednesday. My fifth day under house arrest. I wonder how long it will be before I start feeling claustrophobic inside my own home.
My amber vibrates and pings, and I o
pen my eyes to see a message from Ryn. I pick up the amber and take a closer look.
Eleven more people dead. The Guild is under quarantine. No one here is allowed to leave. Those still at home have been ordered to stay there and restrict contact with family members. I told Vi to return to Kaleidos. She finally agreed for the baby’s sake. She’s staying on her own near the island for another twenty-four hours. When she’s certain she isn’t sick, she’ll go through the shimmer. Will keep you and Dad updated.
With shaking fingers, I pick up my stylus and write, Stay in your office and don’t touch anyone. Don’t you DARE get sick. Then I jump off the bed and rush out of my room, calling Dad’s name. Based on the answering silence, he’s already left for work. I run back into my room and grab a mirror from my desk. I’m about to call him when my amber emits another ping. I lean over the bed and see a message from Perry. My heart plummets as I read his words.
Gemma’s sick. I’m so scared I can’t even think properly. I don’t know what to do.
A shiver of fear races through me. I drop the amber and press my hands to my face. “No,” I murmur. “No, no, no.” This is all spiraling out of control way too quickly. We need a cure NOW, dammit! If eleven more people are dead, then the healers obviously haven’t found one yet, which leaves the witches as the only other option.
I rush to my closet and grab the first clothes I find: a pair of pants, a T-shirt and a hoodie. After dressing, I tug my boots on, then throw all the money I can find into my smallest purse and slide it into my left boot. I fetch my amber and stylus and open a doorway on the nearest wall. Screw the house arrest and the tracker spell. If I manage to get hold of a cure, it’ll be worth whatever consequences I have to deal with when I get back. I imagine the Underground tunnel where Wickedly Inked used to be and hurry into the faerie paths.
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