Zed is gone and I have no idea how to find him, but the witches … the witches did this magic, and I know exactly where they are. I might not be able to make Zed pay for what he’s done, but I will make sure those witches regret the day they decided to help him.
* * *
I slip into the mountain and arm myself with various weapons before heading Underground. It’s dangerous in these tunnels for a faerie who looks anything like a guardian, but I couldn’t care less. In fact, I welcome the possible danger. Try something, I whisper in my mind to the pair of reptiscillan men who narrow their eyes at me as I pass. To the man in the hood with the glaring red eyes. Just try something. I dare you to. But I make it to the area of the tunnels where Wickedly Inked once was, where the witches now have their store, without incident. I walk boldly up to the entrance—
And find a dark, empty room.
My cry of frustration is almost a snarl. Clearly this isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped, but I refuse to be put off. Someone must know where those two witches went. Someone must have seen or heard something. I begin my search of the wide, winding tunnels, walking into every bar, every shop, every area that doesn’t look like it’s a private residence. I discover nothing, and in several places I end up fighting my way out with the assistance of an illusion. In my current frame of mind, though, I don’t particularly mind. Punching and kicking seem like excellent outlets for my pent-up pain.
Eventually I reach Club Deviant, the place owned by the drakoni man Ryn’s team recently arrested. The drakoni man who knows Zed. He may not be around for me to question, but perhaps whoever’s managing this place now has information I can use. The club is almost empty, given the fact that it’s about midday. A smoky haze still hangs in the air, though. I doubt it ever lifts. I walk to the bar area and take a seat. The elf slouching against the counter behind the bar opens one sleepy eye and looks at me. “Mm?” he grunts.
“I’m here to see whoever’s in charge.”
“I doubt he wants to see you,” the elf says, making an effort to open both eyes so he can trail them down over my body and back up. “Or perhaps he does. Come back tonight and you’ll find out.”
“I’m not coming back tonight. I’m looking for information about a guy named Zed, and I want it now.”
The elf leans forward across the counter, close enough that I can see the glitter sparkling in his sleek black hair. “You want it now? Oh, well if you want it, then of course you can have it. That’s the way the world works, right?”
“I don’t have time for your sarcasm.”
With lightning speed, his hand flashes forward and grabs my arm. “And I don’t have time for your faerie entitlement. Think you can walk in here and demand whatever the hell you want? Think again, sweetheart. Nobody—and I mean absolutely nobody—in this club is going to be giving you any information about anything. And before I kick you out of here on your ass, I’ll be teaching you a—”
“What’s going on here?” a sultry voice asks. A feminine hand snakes around the elf’s forearm. His grip on me loosens immediately. He sucks in a breath and tries to move backward, but the woman beside me—the woman I now recognize—yanks him closer. As he leans partway across the bar, gasping for breath, she whispers, “You don’t want any trouble, do you, Lucimar?”
“No, no, of … of course not.” He shakes his head and she releases him. He falls back, clutching at his throat and almost knocking over a row of brightly colored bottles on the back counter.
“You don’t want to be here,” the woman who is part siren tells him.
“I … I don’t want to be here.” He pushes himself away from the counter and staggers down a passage to the back rooms of the club.
The woman swivels on her seat to face me and crosses one leg over the other. Wearing a form-fitting dress, a long coat and heels, she’s as glamorous today as every other time I’ve seen her. “Looking for trouble, Calla?”
“Elizabeth,” I say evenly. “Or is it Scarlett? I never did ask which name I’m supposed to use.”
She lifts one shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. I answer to both these days.”
“Well, Elizabeth.” I stand. “Yes, I am looking for trouble, and so far I haven’t been able to find it. So while I appreciate you interfering in a situation I was in complete control of, I need to keep searching.”
She laughs as I turn away. “What an amusing way to pass the time. Perhaps I can join your search for trouble. Chase probably doesn’t like the idea of you hunting for it on your own.”
Chase doesn’t know, I admit silently. “Not unless you can help me find a faerie named Zed or the witches who vanished from Underground sometime in the past week.” And if she hasn’t stopped by the mountain yet to offer her assistance with the plan to rescue Chase, then I doubt she’ll want to help me. I don’t play well with others, she once said to Chase.
“Witches?” Elizabeth repeats, pulling a glove onto her bare hand. “Since when are there witches around here? They know they’re not welcome in this part of the world.”
“I don’t know,” I say as I walk away. “I just need to find them.”
“Hey,” she calls after me. “Do you know their names?”
I stop and look back at her. “No.”
She slides off her stool and sashays toward me. “Luckily for you and your trouble hunting, I might still be able to help you.” I follow her out of the club to the dim tunnel where she asks me to tell her where I last saw the witches. When I mention that they had a store down here where they sold their wares, she looks pleased. “If they occupied that space for more than a few hours, they’ll definitely have left traces of their magic.” She tells me to meet her there in half an hour. She vanishes into the faerie paths, and I turn around to wander my way back through the tunnels. I could go straight to the shop through the paths, of course, but then I’d have to wait for Elizabeth. And waiting means I’d have to occupy my mind with something—something that would no doubt be swallowed up by the guilt-beast straining at the cage my mind has locked it in.
I focus intently on everything I see and everyone I pass as I stride along the tunnels. Anything to keep me from giving in to the guilt that wants to consume me. In the end, I arrive at the empty Underground room only a minute or two before Elizabeth. I’ve just finished casting an orb of light when I hear her footsteps outside. I send the light floating up to the ceiling as she stops in the doorway with a book tucked beneath her arm and looks around. “So empty,” she murmurs. “I knew Chase moved out of here after you discovered his true identity. He mentioned a brief and unpleasant encounter with the new occupant of this space, but he forgot to mention it was a witch.”
“It was rather an unpleasant surprise to find those women here,” I say, remembering the day I came to look for Chase.
Elizabeth steps into the room and walks around the edge, running her hand along the stone walls. Near the back of the room, beside a door that leads to a second, smaller room, she pauses, running her fingers through faint grooves I can barely see. “Yes,” she whispers. “They definitely left traces of themselves here.”
She turns back and moves to the center of the room, steps out of her high-heeled shoes, and sits on the floor. Despite her figure-hugging dress, she manages to appear graceful and elegant as she tucks her legs beneath her body. She places the book on the ground in front of her, removes a bejeweled ring from a compartment carved into the back pages, and turns to a specific page. Then she removes a mirror from her coat pocket. “Should I sit?” I ask as she slowly enlarges the mirror, coaxing it to a size large enough to show one’s head and shoulders.
“Yes. Sit there,” she says, waving to the space on the other side of the book. She places the mirror beside it, removes one of her gloves, and puts the ring on. As I sit with my legs crossed beneath me, she begins reading from the book. The words don’t sound like any faerie magic I’ve heard before. They sound … harsher somehow. As she speaks, she waves her arms in sweeping motions toward th
e walls. Something that looks like dust separates itself from the walls and floats on invisible currents. Streams of this dust curl and dance through the air before arcing down and plunging into the mirror. The mirror itself begins to cloud over. When Elizabeth finishes her spell, a billowing mistiness fills the glass surface.
“If the witches are anywhere near a mirror, they’ll sense that they’re being called,” she says, pushing herself to her feet. “As curious as I am to know why you’re so desperate to speak with them, I’ll give you some privacy.” She slips her shoes back on and walks out to the tunnel.
I pick up the mirror and balance it on my crossed legs. The misty surface slowly begins to clear, revealing moving shapes. One shape in particular—the shape of a person—grows larger and becomes still. The background comes into focus first. Endless sand dunes, and in the distance, a structure that looks like a pyramid with a second smaller pyramid sitting atop its apex. When eventually a woman appears, it isn’t the one I expected. Not dark eyes and pointed teeth, but silver hair and a smile I want to tear off with my bare hands.
Angelica.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
“Oh, look who’s calling,” Angelica says. “We wondered if we might be hearing from you soon. Allow me to express my deepest condolences for your loss. Or hasn’t that happened yet?”
She knows. She knows exactly what the witches did to Victoria. “I will tear you apart,” I say between gritted teeth.
“Ah, so it has happened. And I believe you tried the tearing apart thing once already,” she adds with amusement, “and gave up to run after my son instead. How did that work out for you?”
I hate her so much I can taste it. “Did I mention what a despicable waste of magic and breath you are?”
“I believe you might have.”
“Whose life do you plan to trade next? You used your own son to get yourself out of prison, so who will it be for Amon? Who are you going to exchange for him?”
“Amon can stay right where he is.”
I shake my head. “You backstabbing bitch. He orchestrated this whole plan, and now that you’re free, you’re going to leave him to rot in prison?”
She cocks her head. “You should be glad. One less enemy running around for you to worry about.”
“Remind me to thank you when I’m finished stabbing needles beneath my fingernails.”
She laughs. “Oh, it is fun playing around with people again. One of the many advantages of being free.”
“Not for long,” I mutter.
She raises an eyebrow. “Do you plan to put me back in my cage … Calla?” She says my name as if it’s a taunt. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Come out of hiding and we can arrange that.”
“I don’t think so.” She steps away, out of view, and it’s a fair head that takes her place.
“You called?” the witch says, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. She’s the younger of the witches I met Underground. The only one I’ve had any dealings with.
“What did you do?” I demand, my fingers shaking as I grip the mirror. “What spell did you give Zed? How could you kill an innocent child like that?”
“Zed?” she asks innocently.
“You know,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice, “the one you gave the dragon disease spell to. The one who must have been very angry when he discovered you sold a cure to me.”
She waves her hand. “We sorted that one out. He came to understand why I sold you that cure. Just business, of course.”
“And then you helped him murder a child!” I yell. “You disgusting piece of filth! What spell did you give him to—”
“Don’t shout at me about things you don’t understand,” the witch snaps. “You shouldn’t be worrying about a child who’s dead. Oh no, dear golden haired girl.” Her voice turns low and threatening. “You should be worrying about yourself now.”
“You can threaten me as much as you want, but it won’t stop me from making you pay for what you’ve done.”
That lazy smile creeps onto her face once more. “You’re the only one who’s going to be paying.”
“What?”
“A little silver bird told me all about your special magic. Your Griffin Ability, as the Guild has named it.”
A chill creeps up my spine. “So? You can keep dreaming if you think you’re going to get your hands on my power.”
She chuckles. “I don’t need to dream. Not when I’ve already cast the spell that will let me take your power for myself.”
A shudder runs through me. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, but I can, and I have. The curse has already been performed.”
I hate the quiver in my voice as I ask, “What—what do you mean?”
“It was quite complex. I’m rather proud of myself for having completed it.” She preens. “The effect is simple, though: the more you use your special ability, the weaker you’ll become.”
I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous. All magic replenishes itself after use.”
“Not anymore,” she whispers, stepping closer to the mirror. “You and I are linked now, and I feel it every time you use that special power. Your core magic will grow weaker and weaker over time, and in that moment when the life finally vanishes forever from your body, the only magic that remains, the only magic I care about—your Griffin Ability—will flow out of your body and into mine.”
I’m still shaking my head. “That isn’t possible. You can’t do that.”
“You know nothing about what I can and cannot do with witch magic.”
“I know that you can try to scare me with lies—which is what you’re no doubt doing right now.”
A predatory smile sits upon her lips. “You know I speak the truth. You’ve felt it already. You felt it the moment the curse was laid upon you.”
An image of my nightmare flashes across my mind. Her black eyes, her scraping fingernails. “H-how?”
She tilts her head. “Don’t you remember the blood you gave me?”
“But—but the vial broke. You can’t have used my blood.”
She laughs. “Oh, you silly girl. You think spilled blood can’t be retrieved? I don’t need it to be clean, if that’s what you’re thinking. The splinters of glass made no difference. On the contrary. They’ll probably add a nice spike of pain to the effects of the curse, a needling headache whenever you use your magic.”
I swallow. My hands are shaking properly now. How did this happen? How did this confrontation slip so quickly out of my control? It was supposed to be about Victoria—about finding out what the witch did to her and coming up with a way to make everyone involved pay—and now it’s about … a curse placed on me?
With a wordless yell, I fling the mirror across the room. It shatters into hundreds of shards, sparkling in the enchanted light. Fear and hatred war within me. I choose the hate. I hate, hate, hate that witch more than I ever believed possible.
Elizabeth rushes into the room, looking around. “What happened? Why did you break my mirror?”
I ignore her as I push myself to my feet. I shout again, tilting my head back and baring my teeth at the ceiling. My orb of light cracks apart, sending flashes of light around the room before vanishing. In the ensuing darkness, I grit my teeth and speak. “I decided long ago that I never want to kill anyone, but … that witch … I want to kill her. I want to kill her! I will search every desert in the world if I have to, and then I’ll make her suffer the way my family is suffering.”
Elizabeth takes another step into the room and folds her arms over her chest. “That’s … quite extreme.”
“Someone is dead because of her magic.”
“Oh, well of course you should kill her then.” She waves her hand at the mess of shattered glass, causing it to sweep itself up into a neat little pile. “I’m sure it will make you feel much better, and you won’t wind up regretting it in the least.”
“Don’t patronize me with your sarcasm,” I spit. �
�You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“No, but I know what Chase went through. I know what kind of person he turned into because he was bent on revenge, and I wouldn’t recommend that path to anyone.”
“This is different,” I mutter.
With a snap of her fingers, the glass shards and empty frame vanish. “You want to hurt someone who first hurt you. It isn’t different at all.”
It is, I tell myself. I’m not trying to bring the whole world to its knees just to punish someone who hurt me. I simply want anyone who’s caused me and my family any pain to pay for their crimes and to suffer as much as we’ve suffered. “Just … don’t,” I say to Elizabeth, pushing past her as I head for the door. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me. Perhaps it would if you cared a little more about Chase than you pretend to, but your words are meaningless if—”
“Don’t you dare question how much I care about him.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I say with a humorless laugh, looking over my shoulder at her. “You haven’t even offered to help with the rescue plan.”
Her eyes narrow. “What rescue plan?”
* * *
Elizabeth sweeps into Gaius’s study where he’s leaning over a drawing with Ana. “How could you not tell me?”
He looks up, startled. “Elizabeth—hi. And Calla! You’re back!” He’s about to address me further when Elizabeth smacks a fist down on his desk.
A Faerie's Curse (Creepy Hollow #6) Page 10
