A Faerie's Secret (Creepy Hollow Book 4)

by Rachel Morgan

“Firstly—” Chase ticks off one finger “—it doesn’t matter if she can’t hear you. Secondly, visiting her doesn’t mean you have to stop being angry. And thirdly … what kind of a question is that? I’m not a stranger, and I’m not a heartless monster, so of course I care.”

  “Um … okay.” I instruct myself not to dwell on the part where he said he cares—he would care about anyone in this situation, Calla. You’re no one special—and focus instead on points number one and two. “I suppose I could think about the possibility of visiting her.”

  “That sounds like a start.” Chase rolls up the chosen artwork and opens a doorway near his desk. “Ladies first,” he says.

  “Right.” I need to go to Ryn’s now, where he’ll probably want to know where I’ve been all night—and I doubt he’ll settle for the vague answer Vi will already have given him: Underground. His protective tendencies were sweet when I was little, but I’m getting over it now. He needs to realize I’m no longer a child.

  “Oh, before you go, I wanted to ask you something.” Chase rubs the back of his neck and hesitates, his mouth half open as if he’s about to speak. “Actually, don’t worry about it.”

  He seems awkward suddenly, and I wonder if … maybe … No, don’t be ridiculous, Calla. The cool, tattooed vigilante faerie does not feel that way about you. “Well, now I’m curious,” I say as sprite wings flutter in my stomach. No. You are not curious. Didn’t you learn your lesson with Zed?

  “I was going to suggest something,” Chase says, “but …”

  “You were going to suggest what?” I ask before the logical side of my brain can take over and stop me.

  “I’m fascinated by your Griffin Ability and the opportunities it presents. I’d love to work with you, but with your loyalties strictly aligned with the Guild and their way of doing things, and me being … not with the Guild, it probably wouldn’t work out so well.”

  “Oh, right, yes. That’s probably not a good idea.” Which makes it so confusing that my first thought was actually, That would be so much fun! It would be fun, but I have a feeling Chase operates outside the law, and that would be a problem for me. I step through the doorway Chase has been holding open with his foot and turn around. “Thank you for listening last night. And for letting me stay.” Then I walk into the darkness, try to put those intense storm-green eyes out of my mind, and think of the forest near Ryn’s home.

  * * *

  I walk through the trees for a while before heading back to Ryn’s. When I get there, Violet is out, so I have to face Ryn on my own. I tell him I spent the night with a friend. He says, “A friend who lives Underground?” I don’t answer, and, with what looks like extreme difficulty, he leaves it at that. Vi probably told him to give me a break. Hopefully she reminded him that when they were my age, they were running around doing whatever the heck they pleased. He then offers to take me to the Creepy Hollow Guild’s healing wing to see Mom and speak to the healers. After deciding that Chase might be right after all, I say yes.

  The healing wing smells odd, like the substance Mom pours on the kitchen floor at home before reciting the cleaning spell. It’s stronger, though, and mixed with the underlying sweet scent of poppinies, the flowers used to make an exceptionally strong painkiller. I rub my nose as I follow a healer into a long room and walk between two rows of beds. Some of the beds are hidden by floating curtains pulled closed around them, while other beds are visible, their occupants sitting up and talking quietly with visitors.

  “She’s in here,” the blue-uniformed man in front of me says, stopping and pointing to a floating curtain on my right. I thank him and he leaves. After a moment’s pause, I pull the curtain aside just enough to walk into the enclosed area.

  I stand and look at her, a still, silent form in a neat, white bed. If not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the occasional flutter behind her eyelids, I wouldn’t believe she’s alive. I take slow, careful steps toward her. As I reach the bedside, slender branches rise from the floor and weave themselves into a stool. A cushion appears on top of it. I nudge the stool with my knee to make sure it’s sturdier than it looks, then sit down.

  My hand inches forward and rests on the edge of the bed next to Mom’s pale arm. “Just so you know,” I whisper, “I’m really mad at you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why? You made up all these stories when you could have just told me the truth.” I press my fingers into the blanket. “You really need to wake up so I can shout at you properly. This whispering thing isn’t working. And also … it’s just freaky seeing you lying here like this. So you have to wake up. Okay?” I lean back and watch her, waiting, hoping that somehow my voice can drag her from the depths of this enchanted sleep. It doesn’t, though. Of course it doesn’t.

  I stand, find the gap in the floating curtain, and push my way out. I walk past the row of identical floating curtains and out to the corridor where I last saw Ryn. A woman dressed in a pale blue healer uniform is approaching him from the other side. I reach him at the same time she does. “You’re Kara Larkenwood’s daughter?” she says to me.

  “Yes. Do you know anything more about my mother?”

  “Is your father here?” she asks. “I should probably speak to both of you together.”

  “Um, no.”

  “We don’t know when he’ll be here,” Ryn says, “so if you know something, please tell us.”

  The healer’s eyes flick with uncertainty toward Ryn. “You are …”

  “Linden Larkenwood’s son.”

  “Please,” I say. “Whatever you know, just tell us. You’re starting to scare me.”

  Ryn puts an arm around my shoulders. The healer clasps her hands in front of her. “The bottle that was found next to your mother had several drops of liquid left inside it. Our analysis spells identified it as a sleeping potion.”

  I nod. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Did you know how strong it was?”

  “Well, she only took a few drops every night, so it must have been rather strong.”

  The healer shakes her head. “Stronger than that. One drop could send a person into a deep sleep for days. It’s illegal to buy and sell potions of this strength without a permit. We don’t know how much your mother ingested, but if the bottle was full, we’ve calculated she could be asleep for …” The healer twists her hands together, looking between the two of us, possibly weighing how best to share this final piece of information.

  “For?” I prompt, not willing to wait a second longer.

  “At least a year.”

  “What?”

  “Probably longer.”

  “That’s insane! How will she survive that long?”

  “Potions of this sort are designed to sustain the body while—”

  “Is there anything we can do other than wait?” Ryn asks. “Any potions or magic that can reverse the effects of a sleeping potion?”

  “Not something this strong,” the healer says, then rushes to add, “but, uh, we’re working on creating an antidote. And our potion makers are very skilled. Don’t you worry, I’m sure they’ll come up with something.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  I’m paging through Gringel’s Potion Manual, Eighteenth Edition on Saturday evening when Vi arrives home from work. After my visit to Mom, I gathered every book on potions I could find in Ryn’s house and spread them over the kitchen table. I know the possibility of me coming across something that all the expert healers and potion makers don’t already know about is slim, but I don’t have any homework and there’s no way drawing will distract me now, so this is all I’ve got to focus on.

  I hear Vi talking to Ryn before she comes into the kitchen. She bends and hugs my shoulders and says, “Ryn told me. I’m so sorry. But at least there’s nothing wrong with her other than sleep.”

  “A year, Vi,” I say as I page through Gringel’s. “A year. Or more! Imagine how much she could miss in that time?”

  “It won’t be that long, Calla.�
�� Unlike the false assurances of the healer, Vi’s voice carries actual conviction. “We don’t know how much of the potion your mother actually drank. And she’s been taking sleeping potions since she was a teenager. I’m sure she’s developed some form of tolerance toward them. Why else would she be in possession of one so strong?”

  I tap a pencil against my chin and nod as Vi sits opposite me with a glass of her favorite energy-boosting, body-healing concoction. It’s a mix of at least twenty different ingredients, all of which taste disgusting. “I suppose that makes sense. That would also explain why she makes sleeping potions so often.”

  “Exactly. You said she makes a new one every few weeks, right? She wouldn’t need to do that if she had a potion strong enough to last a year. Or two to three years, if you take into account all the waking hours in a day when she wouldn’t need it.”

  “Right. Okay.” I sit back and close the heavy cover of Gringel’s. “Why didn’t I think of that before I spent all afternoon searching for every reference I could find of sleeping potions?”

  Vi takes a big gulp of her drink, grimaces, and says, “Too anxious to think properly?”

  “Maybe. So hopefully it’ll only be a few weeks before she wakes up.” I tilt my head to the side and add, “Do you actually like that stuff you’re drinking?”

  “Ugh, no. But it works.” She downs the rest of the drink, shudders as she swallows, then stands and takes the glass to the sink.

  “Whoa,” I say as she turns. “What happened?” Her hair is secured atop her head, and across the back of her neck are three deep gashes.

  “What? Oh, just some training exercises with a manticore that got a little out of hand. The wounds have been treated already, and the Drink of Supreme Grossness—” she waves the glass she just cleaned “—will help. I’ll be healed in a few hours.”

  “Great way to end a Saturday,” I mutter.

  “It was great,” she says, enthusiasm lighting up her face. “This team has made so much improvement. They’re almost ready to go out there and fix up some real-life mess.”

  The door leading from the living room swings open and Ryn walks in. “Isn’t it nice when the criminal you’ve been hunting down for weeks shows up unconscious on your doorstep?”

  “How convenient,” Vi says. “Which doorstep are you referring to, exactly?”

  “The Guild’s. So I need to go in for a few hours.”

  “Don’t you guys ever get weekends off?” I ask. “Vi just got home, and now you’re off to work.”

  “Uh, sometimes,” Vi says. “Why do you think he turned himself in?” she asks Ryn.

  “Not sure yet. I think perhaps one of his own turned on him.”

  “Sounds like the criminals are doing your job for you.”

  “Not complaining,” he says with a grin.

  “Lazy butt,” Vi says. “You should come to my Guild sometime. We do real work there.”

  “Your Institute is filled with reptiscillas.”

  “And that’s what makes it awesome,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Okay, I’m going to clean up before Calla and I make something amazing for dinner.”

  “Hey,” Ryn says as she walks past him. “What happened to your neck? I didn’t see that when you came in.”

  “Oh, just a few scratches.” Vi touches the side of her neck gingerly. “The manticore training was today, remember? It knocked me around a bit, but I’m fine.”

  “It knocked you around?” Ryn looks horrified, which is puzzling, since getting knocked around is nothing new in the guardian line of work. “This is what I’m talking about, V. This is why it isn’t safe for you to work anymore.”

  “No, no, no,” she says, turning back to him and shaking her head. “That wasn’t part of the deal. We agreed I wouldn’t have to stop work now.”

  “Well maybe we were wrong.”

  “Um, should I leave the room now?” I ask.

  “If you’re allowed to work,” Vi says, completely oblivious to my question, “so am I.”

  “I’m not the one who’s—” Ryn cuts himself off as he looks at me. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says to Vi, then walks out of the room.

  “Yes. We will,” she shouts after him. “I’ll be talking, and you’ll be listening to my side of things.”

  “I can’t hear you,” he shouts back. Vi looks at me and rolls her eyes. A moment later, we hear a knock coming from outside the living room, followed shortly by Ryn saying, “Tilly?”

  “Tilly?” Vi says, frowning. She hurries out of the kitchen, and I get up to follow her. “Tilly!” she shouts gleefully, and I walk into the living room in time to see her wrap her arms around someone with blond and pink hair. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I’m sorry for arriving unannounced,” Tilly says, “but I suddenly had some time off, and I thought, ‘Why not?’ So here I am! And I brought dinner. Hi, Calla!” She waves at me over Vi’s shoulder.

  “Hey.” I smile and wave back. As far as Vi and Ryn’s friends go, wacky explorer Tilly is probably the most fun. She talks non-stop and tells amazing stories—which are made more amazing by the fact that they’re all true.

  “Tilly, you have awful timing,” Ryn complains. “I’m on my way to work.”

  “Oh, bummer.” Tilly looks sad for a moment, but then she grins. “Girls’ night!” She throws her hands into the air and accidentally whacks Filigree in his tiny owl face. “Oh! Sorry, Fili. I didn’t see you sitting there on that totally inconspicuous coat hook.”

  Filigree flaps his disapproval, then lands on the floor, morphs into a cat, and walks off without another glance in Tilly’s direction.

  “I really have to go,” Ryn says. “Enjoy your girls’ night.”

  Half an hour later, we’re sitting at the kitchen table digging into the various containers Tilly picked up from The Brownie’s Munch Box while mouse-formed Filigree nibbles chocolate-covered nixles. Having never eaten anything from Brownie’s before—Mom has a strict home-cooked-meals-only policy—I make sure to sample something from all seven containers.

  “So I’m lost in the middle of a jungle,” Tilly says between mouthfuls, “my stylus has been eaten by a giant toad-rabbit thing, I’ve fought off two lizards in order to keep the gem safe, and now I’m faced with a whole bunch of warrior dryads who obviously think I’m threatening their home. I’m thinking this expedition is an absolute fail when, out of nowhere, Jayshu comes swinging through the trees on a vine, bellowing like an ogre. He lands in the midst of the dryads, whips out the giggle spray, and within half a minute all the dryads are doubled over, laughing hysterically.”

  “That did not happen,” Vi says when she’s recovered from her laughter.

  “One hundred percent true story,” Tilly says. “Giggle spray. Jayshu’s planning to patent it. Gonna make a fortune.”

  “Who’s going to buy that stuff?”

  “The Guild. Once you guardians realize you can win every battle by making your enemies giggle.”

  “That’s so ridiculous I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I know. They’ll never see it coming. Oh!” Tilly waves her fork excitedly in the air. “I almost forgot the best part of the meal.” She reaches into the bag slung over one side of her chair and pulls out a brown glass bottle. “Galar mead. This stuff, ladies, is amazing.”

  “Ooh, yes, I want to try that,” I say, reaching for the bottle.

  “I’m not sure your mother would be too pleased if I let you do that,” Vi says.

  “Mom’s asleep, remember? And when she wakes up she’ll have far more important things to worry about than the fact that I sampled—” I examine the label “—twelve-year-old mead. Wow. That’s quite old.”

  “And it is quite amazing,” Tilly says, standing up and searching the cupboards for appropriate glassware.

  “Oh, I won’t have any,” Vi says as Tilly returns to the table with three glasses.

  “What? Don’t be so boring.” Tilly taps the cork with her st
ylus. The cork pops out, and Filigree scampers over to get a better sniff at the contents of the bottle.

  “I’m not, I just don’t feel like—”

  “No. Not feeling like it is not an option. I went all the way to the Slievaran Mountains where the Galar dwarves make this stuff. Do you have any idea how far away that is?”

  “Um … five seconds via the faerie paths?”

  With a deadpan expression, Tilly blinks and says, “Fine. Do you have any idea how hard you have to focus to wind up at precisely the right spot on the Slievaran Mountains in order to find this stuff?”

  “Very hard?”

  “Exactly. That’s how far away this place is. So you have to try the mead.”

  Vi groans. “I’m sorry. I wish I could, but I’m just really not feeling like it.”

  Tilly passes me a glass with a small amount of mead, then leans back and examines Vi with a frown. “We’ve drunk mead together before.”

  “We have.”

  “You liked it. A lot. You said it was your new favorite drink.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Ohmygosh.” Tilly straightens suddenly, her eyes wide.

  “What?” Vi and I ask at the same time.

  “Ohmygosh. Oh. My. Gosh.” Tilly’s smile stretches wider than I would have thought possible, as if she’s squealing silently. “You’re having a baby!”

  I almost drop my glass. “What?”

  Vi’s expression is frozen, her mouth half open and her cheeks rapidly turning pink. Then she slaps her hand down on the table. “How the freak do you know that?”

  “Oh, it is so obvious.”

  “It is not!”

  “THAT IS SO EXCITING!” I yell, jumping up and flinging my arms around her, splashing half my mead on the floor. A second later, Tilly joins us, completing our group hug with bouncing and squealing.

  “No—stop—it’s not exciting, it’s terrifying!” Vi exclaims, attempting to swat us away.

  “Well of course it’s a little bit terrifying,” Tilly says as she and I return to our seats, “but it’s mainly exciting, right?