Creepy Hollow 7

by Rachel Morgan

  “Nope. My mother’s always been deadly serious about the no-swearing policy in our household. Anyway, the Councilor’s on her way. Message on the plate said she just left the Guild.”

  “That was the sound of a message?”

  “It isn’t supposed to shriek like that,” Jewel says. “I think the notification spell is faulty.”

  The front door swings open, revealing a smartly dressed woman. “Oh, wonderful, you’re here. I didn’t have time to check with surveillance. Shall we go through to the sitting room?” Without waiting for an answer, she strides past us and opens the door beside the sideboard.

  “Councilor Waterfield,” Dash whispers as he takes my arm and steers me around toward the door.

  I expected her to be older, being a member of this special faerie Council or whatever it is, but she probably hasn’t hit thirty yet. I’m also starting to wonder if this world consists of any men, or if it’s just Dash and all the females that fawn over him. I pull my arm free of his grip, muttering that I’m perfectly capable of walking into the next room without assistance.

  The sitting room is pretty, with antique furniture and a large bay window on one side. I think I might be able to see something beige in color through the trees that could be a strip of sand, but Councilor Waterfield invites me to sit before I can take a closer look out the window. I choose one of the single armchairs so I don’t have to sit right next to Dash or the Councilor. She sits with her back to the window, and Dash takes the armchair beside mine. I clasp my hands tightly together in my lap, feeling suddenly nervous.

  “Emerson,” the woman says. “I’m Councilor Waterfield. First of all, welcome to the magical realm. I trust Dash has explained the basics to you?”

  “I have,” Dash says before I can answer. “Only the very basics, though. She has a lot more to learn.” He flashes a grin in my direction, which I wish I could scratch right off. He’s enjoying this way too much.

  “So, Emerson.” The Councilor opens a bag at her feet and pulls out a larger version of the amber thing Jewel was using. Before she tilts it upward to face her, I see gold lettering appear across its surface. “We’ve been tracking you for the last … five years? Is that correct?” She looks up from her magical device.

  “Yes,” Dash answers once more. “Em was twelve when we began tracking her.”

  “So that makes you seventeen now.”

  “If math is the same in this world as it is in mine,” I say, “then yes.”

  Her smile tightens somewhat. “Numbers are numbers, Emerson, no matter which side of the veil you happen to be on. And this side is your side. You’ll need to start referring to it as such.”

  “Of course,” I say, when all I want to do is scream that I only just found out about the existence of this side, so give me a damn break!

  Councilor Waterfield leans back, making herself more comfortable. “In case Dash didn’t tell you, I’m the Guild representative for Chevalier House, which is where you’ll be staying for a while. It’s a school for people like you. People who’ve been brought up with humans and might have had access to their magic but haven’t had anyone to teach them how to use it, or perhaps their magic has only just appeared, and because of some mishap or other, we’ve now become aware of their existence.”

  “What makes it suddenly appear?” I ask. “Why was my magic inaccessible before? Or—why did it come and go? Dash said it was kind of … faulty.”

  She purses her lips before answering. “To be honest, I don’t know. If you were a halfling, it would make more sense. Their magic is highly unpredictable and can sometimes present itself later in life. But faeries … Well, I don’t know. I suppose it happens every now and then.”

  “Wonderful. So I’m a freak even by this world’s standards.”

  “You’re not a freak, Emerson. After you’ve spent some time at Chevalier House, you’ll be able to fit in with the rest of our world just fine.”

  “So basically you’re sending me to magical etiquette school?”

  She breathes out through her nose. I think her patience is beginning to wear thin. “It’s far more than that. They’ll teach you about your magic, about our world. They’ll assist with the logistics of merging your old life with your new one. Whether you should return home or stay here, what story your family will believe while you’re away, what you should tell your family if you decide to return home. Things like that.”

  I cross my arms tightly against my chest. “You should probably know that you needn’t bother coming up with a story for my aunt. She’ll assume I’ve run away, she’ll be glad, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  Councilor Waterfield looks down at her device, pausing for a moment as she reads something. “It appears that’s the story she was given, actually. A guardian glamoured as a policeman has informed your aunt that you ran away. He told her that a security camera caught you getting onto a bus. Police attempted to find you on the other side, but you somehow slipped away without being noticed. They’re still on the lookout for you. Your friends have been told the same story.”

  “But that’s a lie.” I sit forward. “I don’t want my friends thinking I ran away.”

  “Well, Emerson, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice. Once you’ve spent some time at Chevalier House and can safely return to the human world, you can come up with a good excuse for why you ran away. We can have one of our guardians glamoured as a policeman say he or she tracked you down, if that story works for you. I’m sure you can make your friends understand.”

  I slump back in my chair. This woman doesn’t understand, and neither will Val. She’ll see right through me if I try to lie.

  “Now, as I was saying,” Councilor Waterfield continues, examining her device again. “All footage of last night’s earthquake incident has been located and destroyed so that no one knows you were connected, and memories have been altered. An expensive cover-up—not all magic is free or cheap, you know—but we can’t have humans running around spreading stories about what you did. And if you do decide to return to your old life, you can do so safely without anyone knowing what happened.”

  “So … so that’s it? I have to go to this school for a little bit, and then I can return to my world?”

  “Yes.” She slides her amber device back into her bag. “Dash will take you there now.”

  “Um, who pays for this school?” I ask, angling my body away from Dash as I ask. Pointless, since he can still hear me, but I’d rather not see his expression if I have to admit to Councilor Waterfield that I have absolutely no money.

  “It’s funded by the Guild,” she says. “The program is considered part of security. It’s dangerous having fae running around with magic they can’t control. Far better to have you educated so you can safely re-enter society, on this side of the veil or the other side. Now.” She stands and picks up her bag. “Someone will arrive here shortly to run a few tests on you before you leave for Chevalier House.”

  “Tests?” I shrink back against the cushions. “What tests?”

  “Oh, nothing scary. Just standard procedure. To test for Griffin Abilities, magic levels, that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t want any tests. Don’t I have the right to refuse things like—”

  “Perhaps,” Dash says as he stands, “we could do the tests in a few days after Em has settled into Chevalier House. She’s been through a lot already. And with her … history. Her mother …” He lowers his voice, as if whispering that one word—mother—instead of speaking it out loud means it won’t bring up all the shock, confusion and hurt I felt earlier. I stamp down the pain as Dash continues. “I assume you remember everything from my previous reports, Councilor, so you’ll understand that the concept of ‘running tests’ has negative connotations to her.” He places his hands respectfully behind his back. As his sleeves pull up slightly, I notice the same tattoo on his wrists that I saw on Jewel’s arms.

  Councilor Waterfield clicks her tongue. “Fine. I’ll send someone to C
hevalier House at the end of the week to do the tests there.”

  That doesn’t sound much better, but hopefully I’ll be out of Chevalier House by then. We leave the sitting room and find Jewel still hanging around near the front door. She looks up from her amber, her eyes wide. “Big news,” she says. “Like, huge. Someone’s made a breakthrough with a spell for the veil. The Guild thinks they’ll finally be able to seal the tear over Velazar Island. There’s a meeting in twenty minutes so they can tell us more about it.”

  “Correct,” Councilor Waterfield says, hurrying past Jewel. “That’s why I was late getting here. We received the news just this morning. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back before the meeting begins.” She holds a pen up to the front door, and after a few scribbled words, a dark opening appears. Even though I expected it this time, it’s still horribly unnatural so see a hole of nothingness taking shape and then disappearing after swallowing a person.

  “This is so exciting,” Jewel says once the Councilor is gone. “Are you coming?”

  Dash shakes his head. “I’m escorting Em to Chevalier House now.”

  “Oh, but this is important. Bring her with, and you can take her to Chevalier afterwards.”

  “No need,” Dash says with an easy smile. “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it later. And I doubt Em wants to sit through a Guild meeting after everything she’s been through in the last few hours.”

  Jewel’s smile slips for just a second, before stretching wide once again. “You’re always so thoughtful, Dash. Going the extra mile with your assignments.” She leans in and gives him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later.”

  I wait until she’s gone before saying, “I see you don’t mind pissing off your girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend? Jewel?” He laughs. “We’re just friends. Wait, why did you say she’s angry? She wasn’t angry.”

  I slowly shake my head. “You’re such an idiot.”

  He grins. “For once, dear Emerson, you are almost right. I was almost an idiot earlier.” His gaze moves past me and up, scanning the ceiling briefly. “Fortunately, I was saved just in time.”

  I can’t help glancing up as well, but I see nothing except a few cobwebs and a spider. Apparently those aren’t unique to the human world.

  At the sound of the front door opening, I look past Dash. On the doorstep stands a man with pointed ears and spiked black hair. This is normal now, I remind myself as my eyes refuse to move from those abnormally tapered ears. Totally normal.

  “Emerson?” he enquires. I nod. “The professor is expecting you.”

  Six

  We arrive at an embellished metal gate separating us from a garden of manicured maroon grass and bushes adorned in the colors of autumn. A chilly breeze raises goosebumps along the exposed part of my arms. “Is this anywhere near the house we were just in?” I ask. It doesn’t feel like it, but with the faerie trails—faerie paths?—making travel so quick, it’s impossible to tell.

  “No,” Dash says. “We’re in a completely different part of the world in the foothills of a mountain range.”

  I peer between the metal-shaped leaves of the gate, and on the other side of the enormous house, I see snow-capped mountain peaks. The elf—I assume the pointed ears means he’s an elf—opens the gate and lets us into the garden. We walk along the paved path, up the few steps to the front door, and inside. A crackling fire and a cozy atmosphere greets us in the large open entrance hall of Chevalier House.

  “I’ll get the professor,” the elf says, heading toward the stairs.

  I cross the room, my feet sinking into the thick rug as I look around. A table stands in the middle of the room, with a beautifully painted vase at its center filled with flowers I don’t recognize. Richly embroidered curtains frame the windows, and painted portraits in gilded frames decorate the walls. I think about staying here, even for just a few days, and I can’t quite believe it. It’s a million times fancier than any other house I’ve ever lived in. “Of course it is,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  “What?” Dash asks.

  “The Guild, your parents’ home, this place … I guess when you live in a world of magic, everyone can have whatever fancy, schmancy house they like.”

  “Well, not really.” Dash pushes his hands into his pockets. “Most faeries live in regular tree houses. That’s how we lived until Mom got lucky with her fashion design and clothes casting. She won an award, and then this celebrity hired her to make a dress for some important event. Word started spreading about her work, and she ended up with more high-society clients. Even some of the Seelies—the fae royalty—have worn her dresses. So, yeah.” He shrugs. “Now we have a fancy, schmancy house.”

  “Interesting. Must have been hard for you whenever you were in my world, having to pretend you lived in some crappy part of Stanmeade.”

  “So hard,” he jokes, though his voice lacks humor.

  “No wonder you still live at home with your parents. Why rush to move out and be independent when you can lounge around in a mansion for years?”

  He doesn’t respond, and I continue to examine the portraits on the wall. In the corner of my vision, I see someone walk into the room and out another door, but I ignore whoever it is. “So, you and Jewel aren’t together, but you have matching tattoos,” I say to cover the growing silence. Silence leaves space for thoughts of Mom to sneak in, and I’m not ready to deal with that. “Seems pretty serious to me. I mean, there’s no going back from that, right?”

  “Matching tattoos? Oh.” Dash starts laughing. “You mean these?” He holds his hands up, displaying his tattooed wrists, then doubles over as laughter consumes him. I fold my arms and pointedly ignore him until he’s recovered enough to say, “These are guardian markings. We get them once we’ve graduated.”

  “Wow, you actually managed to graduate? How surprising.”

  “Yep.” He smiles proudly. “Less than a year ago.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes before turning back to the portrait of a young woman. I read the ridiculous name on the polished bronze plaque beneath the painting: Azure Plumehof. Seriously? Azure, Dash, Jewel … Don’t these magical people know anything about normal names? My gaze slides to the date below the name, which tells me this painting is over three hundred years old. Flip. I wonder if the house is also that old.

  I hear laughter behind me and look over my shoulder to see a young boy grinning while Dash writes on the boy’s arm with the same pen he uses to open magic doorways. I make out a spark of light before the boy says, “Thanks, Dash!” and runs off.

  I look away, pretending to examine the crystal-embellished tassels hanging from one of the curtain tie-backs. “Will they give me one of those magic pens here?”

  “What magic pens?” Dash asks.

  “You know.” I glance back at him, nodding toward the pen in his hand. “The pens you guys use to open doorways.”

  “Oh.” Dash snickers. “That isn’t a pen. It’s a stylus.”

  “It looks like a pen. And from what I’ve seen, it acts like a pen.”

  “Well, it isn’t. It has no ink. It’s essentially just a stick that channels magic.”

  “So … it’s a magic wand?”

  “Pretty much. And you’ll have to prove you can safely use your magic before you’ll get one.”

  “Fine,” I mutter, crossing my arms and wandering over to the table. I lean closer to the vase and examine the oddly shaped flowers.

  “Dash, Emerson!” exclaims a female voice from the direction of the stairs. “How lovely to see the two of you.”

  I straighten and step back as a woman with pink in her blonde hair and miniature banana earrings dangling from her ears descends the stairs. A woman I’d guess to be in her twenties, maybe early thirties. The same woman, I realize with a lurch, from the portrait. “Emerson,” she says as reaches the bottom of the stairs. “So lovely to meet you. I’m Professor Azure Plumehof, but please call me Azzy.” She holds her hand toward me. I
stare at it, then back up at her face.

  “Azure Plumehof?” I look over my shoulder at the portrait, then back. “You can’t be. The woman in that painting would be over three hundred years old. She’d be a shriveled-up old prune.”

  Azzy laughs as she lowers her hand, apparently unperturbed that I didn’t bother to shake it. “Dash didn’t explain that part?”

  “I guess it didn’t come up,” Dash says. “She was too fixated on the fact that her hair is blue.”

  I glance down at the pastel blue strands hanging over my shoulder that I’d somehow managed to forget about. With a blink, I return my attention to the most recent earth-shattering revelation. “Wait. You’re telling me you people are immortal or something?”

  “Is that so hard to believe,” Dash asks, “given every other so-called ‘impossible’ thing you’ve discovered so far this morning?”

  “It’s—just—”

  “We’re not immortal, dear,” Azzy says with a brief frown in Dash’s direction. She clasps her hands together over her layers of loose, floaty clothing. “We live several centuries, which is a far cry from immortality.”

  “Several … centuries …” I murmur.

  “Don’t worry,” Azzy says, smiling kindly. “We’ll give you plenty of time to absorb all this new information. That’s why Chevalier House exists—to give you a safe place to learn more about yourself and the world you’re now part of. There will be history lessons, magic lessons—all the basics that young faeries learn in junior school—and interviews so you can give us information that will assist in finding your real family.”

  “My—what?” Real family? I hadn’t given the idea a moment’s thought.

  “But we can begin all that tomorrow. For now, let me show you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a trying day so far, and you probably need to rest. You’ll find everything you could possibly need in your room: clothes, toiletries, makeup—if that’s your thing. If you need something else that I’ve forgotten, or if the clothes are the wrong size, just let me know.” She pauses, as if she might be expecting me to say something, but I’m a bit too overwhelmed to form words. “And if your brain is too fired up for you to rest right now,” she continues, “you can explore the house and the gardens. Meet the other fae who are staying with us at the moment.”