It’s gone.
“No!” I shout. Why is it gone? It was here when I left, less than an hour ago. I search all around the drawer, but there’s no necklace to be found anywhere.
I run back down to Tora. I lift the top half of her body and hold her on my lap, letting my magic seep into her wherever our skin is touching. “Please don’t die,” I sob. “Please don’t die, please don’t die.”
“Are my legs . . . still there?” she manages to ask. “Can’t . . . feel . . .”
I lean over her and let my tears fall onto her chest. “I’m so sorry, Tora. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“Remember . . . I . . .” Her words die on her lips as life vanishes from her eyes.
I clutch her hands tightly, desperately. I can’t breathe. Where is the air? Why can’t I breathe? Bright spots of light dance before my eyes. I let go of Tora’s hands and fall back onto the ground. And suddenly there’s a release, and I’m sucking great breaths of air into my lungs.
Not that I deserve it. I should be the one lying dead on the ground, not Tora. I stand up. I walk blindly over the wreckage of my house. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I plan to do. All I know is that I don’t want to think. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to be here.
I collapse onto the highest point of my destroyed home and hold my head in my hands as I cry. I can’t fix this. I can’t make up for it. I don’t even know how I can live knowing that she died because of me.
My hands drop to my sides, and one of them comes to rest on a pile of glass. The contents of my emergency kit, scattered and broken. My trembling fingers sift through the items that managed to survive and linger on one of the vials. I pick it up. Forget, says the label.
That’s what I want. I want to forget everything that’s happened. I want to forget that it’s my fault.
I unscrew the top.
I lift it to my mouth.
I close my eyes and pour it down my throat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I awake in a small, dimly lit room with a ceiling that feels too close. I roll onto my side, rubbing my scratchy eyes. The room is bare except for a chair and a small table. On the table sits a lantern with a candle flickering inside.
“Oh, you’re awake, dear. How lovely.” Someone short comes into the room. Someone with grey hair and wearing a long dress. She bends over me, and I see black eyes in a face covered with reptilian-like scales.
Reptiscilla, my brain tells me. “Who are you?” I ask.
She smiles down at me, and wrinkles form at the corners of her eyes. “Someone who decided not to leave you out there in the wreckage.”
“The wreckage?” I repeat. I’m still trying to make sense of where I am, how I got here, and what happened before I fell asleep. I’m coming up blank.
“The wreckage of the forest. It was torn apart by an evil faerie.” She shakes her head in disapproval. “Draven, they say his name is.”
“Draven?” Never heard of him.
“And what is your name, dear?”
My name. That’s an easy question. And I have the answer. It’s right here on the tip of my— “Violet,” I say, relieved the name came to me.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else do you remember?”
What do I remember? Now that one’s a little harder. I search my fuzzy head, then shake it. “To be honest,” I say, “not much.”
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Once again, the number one thank you goes to God. I owe Him everything.
Kittie Howard, here is a great big THANK YOU for your expert editing skills and your willingness to read my work no matter how tight the deadline. I am so grateful we “found” each other online!
To Nicola Vermaak—thank you for your proofreading eyes and for always bugging me to hurry up and finish the next story so you can read it. You help me to keep writing.
To everyone who read The Faerie Guardian and wanted to know more—you guys rock. Because of you, I now know what an amazing feeling it is to have people eager and excited for the next story in my series. My very own series! So to all the readers out there who contributed to that feeling—a massive thank you! You make all the hard work worth it.
I don’t think any acknowledgements section will ever be complete again without a thank you to all book bloggers. Without you, dear book bloggers, my books would be review-less and lost amongst the millions of other books out there. Thank you for sharing your love of reading with the rest of the world.
And to Kyle, my sunshine, my best friend—thank you for always being the biggest believer in my dreams.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Morgan was born in South Africa and spent a large portion of her childhood living in a fantasy land of her own making. After completing a degree in genetics, she decided science wasn’t for her—after all, they didn’t approve of made-up facts. These days she spends much of her time immersed in fantasy land once more, writing fiction for young adults.
Connect with Rachel online:
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Find out more about Creepy Hollow by visiting the Creepy Hollow website.
Also by Rachel Morgan
An A to Z of Creepy Hollow Fae
The Creepy Hollow Series
The Faerie Guardian
The Faerie Prince
Book 3 (2013)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Acknowledgements
About the Author
creepy hollow 02 - faerie prince Page 29
