Traitor (Creepy Hollow, #3)

by Rachel Morgan

  CHAPTER TWO

  I draw my legs closer to my body, pulling my feet out of the way of the two dwarves rushing down the corridor. I don’t know what’s got them in such a hurry so early in the morning—the dwarves around here generally like to take their time—but it’s obviously important. I stretch my legs out again once they’ve passed and lean my head back against Tora’s office door. So much for counseling and a report back. I’ve been waiting here at least twenty minutes and Tora hasn’t shown up yet.

  I stand and pull my bag onto my shoulder. I may as well get down to the Training Center instead of wasting time on a cold, hard floor. I jump over the stray vine busy sneaking its way toward the other end of the corridor and head downstairs. As always, I glance up at the domed ceiling as I cross the foyer. The swirling cloud of protective enchantments is still of the purple-grey-blue family. Ever since Flint told me they would change color if the Guild were under attack, I’ve felt the need to keep checking them. Just in case.

  I’ve almost reached the other side of the foyer when I hear an all-too-familiar voice whining nearby. “But you know me. You see me every day.” I slow down and look over at the entrance. Ryn is arguing with Basil, the day guard.

  “You know the rules,” says Basil. He crosses his arms and looks down at Ryn. As one of the few people taller than my obnoxious classmate, Basil manages this quite effectively. “Find your trainee pendant. Then I’ll let you in.”

  I turn and continue on my way, not bothering to suppress a smile as Ryn groans in frustration. I pass the dining hall—which smells so good I want to stop and have another breakfast—and several empty lesson rooms before I reach my favorite place in the Guild: the Training Center. It’s a massive hall with various areas set up for different kinds of training. Target practice includes shooting arrows, throwing knives and aiming blasts of magic. Trees, ropes, nets, a rock wall and a brick wall are clustered together in the section for climbing practice. Bars of different levels are set up in another area, and large mats meant for anything from stretching to sword fighting are strewn around the place.

  I wander over to the trainee notice boards to check my schedule for the day. Finding the list of fifth years, I scan down it until I spot my name. Whoever organized the schedules has divided my morning into Running, Fish Bowl (Opponent: Honey), Target, and Climbing. I look up at the enchanted clock face painted onto the ceiling. Ten minutes early, but I may as well get started.

  I head toward the running rectangles, passing two fellow fifth years sitting on a mat. They reach forward to touch their toes. I quicken my step. Aria and Jasmine have perfected the combined art of stretching and gossiping, and I’d rather not hear anything they have to say. Especially if it’s about me.

  I dump my bag beside the nearest running rectangle, sit down, and change my shoes. I’m already wearing clothes suitable for training. I remove my sound drops—circular shapes smaller than a coin—from a side pocket and stick one to each temple. With a wave of my hand, music blasts through my ears, drowning out all other sound. I step onto the darkened rectangle of floor, barely concentrating as I whisper the spell in my head. The floor slides away beneath my feet. I settle into a comfortable jog, matching my pace to the beat of the music.

  My thoughts turn immediately to Nate. I still don’t know what to think of him almost blurting out the big-deal L-word last night. How can he think he loves me already? He’s only known me a few weeks. I try to examine my own feelings on the matter. I know I care about Nate, but I’m pretty sure I don’t love him. Not yet. Do I? Maybe I do. Maybe being terrified that I’d lost him in the labyrinth means I love him. Would I do absolutely anything for him, just as he said he would for me? Would I . . . I don’t know, die for him?

  Ugh! Feelings suck!

  I stomp to a halt, pull my long-sleeved top off, and stretch my legs a little. I refuse to worry about Nate anymore. I begin running again, ramping up the speed with a flick of my hand. Faster. Faster. Faster still. I push myself until my legs burn and my breath scorches my throat, at which point a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminds me how monumentally stupid I’d look if I tripped right now. Good point. I slow down.

  I glance over my shoulder to check what’s going on around me. Aria and Jasmine are now shooting arrows at what looks like a stuffed version of their least favorite mentor; Rush and Asami are racing each other on the running rectangles beside me; the rest of my classmates are spread out doing various training maneuvers around the hall.

  I’m about to turn my head back when I notice Ryn striding toward a nearby mat to join his friend Dale. Trying to be subtle about it, I wave my hand past my sound drops, turning the music off in time to hear Dale say, “Dude, you’re late. We’re supposed to be beating each other up with sticks or something.”

  Ryn drops his bag beside his friend’s. “Whatever. I got held up at my father’s.”

  Hmm, that’s not what I saw in the foyer. I slow down a little more so I can hear over the pounding of my feet. I don’t normally listen in on Ryn’s conversations, but I want to know if he’s told his friends he saw me with Nate. I know he hasn’t told Tora; she would have interrogated me immediately.

  “So, did you make an excuse for me?” asks Ryn.

  “Nah. Rowan’s the mentor in charge today. You know how chilled he is; I doubt he even noticed you were late.”

  “So what’s the big deal, then?”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Dale shrug. “Nothing. I just don’t like standing alone on this mat looking like an idiot waiting for my first session partner to show up.”

  Ryn shakes his head. “Dude, you need to stop being such a girl.”

  “Hey, I just—”

  “Morning, boys.” Aria’s sing-song voice interrupts Dale as she and Jasmine saunter over. Jasmine’s already let go of her bow and arrow, but Aria waits until she’s standing beside Ryn and Dale before gracefully stretching her arm out and watching her weapon disappear with a sparkle. Perhaps the boys are meant to find that attractive. I don’t know. She just looks stupid to me.

  Ignoring them both, Ryn sits down on the mat and pulls his shoes off.

  “So you guys missed the party at my house on Saturday,” says Jasmine with a pretend pout. “It was epic. My parents were away on assignment.”

  I focus my attention on the wall in front of me and consider turning my music back on. I’m in danger of falling asleep listening to their inane conversation.

  “Some of us had better things to do,” mutters Ryn.

  “Well, well,” says Aria, before Jasmine can respond to Ryn’s taunt. “Look who’s back from the land of the disgraced.” The muscles in my neck stiffen. I know without a doubt she’s talking about me. I concentrate on keeping my head forward and my pace steady. I will not let them know I can hear them.

  Ryn snorts as he stands. “Right. More like the land of Poisyn.”

  Silence follows Ryn’s statement. I flick my eyes to the side; his friends’ mouths are hanging open. Eventually Dale speaks. “She was at Poisyn?”

  “You were at Poisyn?” demands Aria. “What were you doing Underground, Ryn? You could have been killed if anyone down there had found out you’re with the Guild.”

  “And how exactly would they have found that out, Aria?”

  “I don’t know. Those Undergrounders have their evil ways. And stop avoiding the question. What were you doing down there?”

  Ryn steps closer to her, leaning toward her ear as though to share a secret. Gently, he places a hand on her cheek and says, “It’s funny how you think I’d actually tell you my business.”

  She swats his hand away. “You’re such as ass, Ryn. It’s a wonder there are any people left who like you.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s anyone left who likes me,” says Ryn. “But being an ass seems, oddly enough, to attract people. Look at you, for example. I’ve been an ass to you for years, and yet here you are. Still hanging around.”

  Aria flips her hair over her shoulder and
marches back to the target area. After a moment’s hesitation, Jasmine follows her.

  “I don’t believe you,” says Dale. He glances over at me, and I quickly point my gaze forward once more. “Little Miss Perfect would never go Underground, especially to a place like Poisyn.”

  Ryn laughs as he kicks his bag and shoes off the mat. “There are many things you don’t know about Miss Perfect Pixie Sticks, Dale. Like the kind of company she keeps, for starters. And her complete disregard for the Law.”

  Anger flares hot within me.

  “Come on, let’s fight,” says Ryn before Dale can ask any questions. “This session’s almost over.”

  *

  I push myself for another furious fifteen minutes before bringing the running rectangle to a stop. I sit down, pull a towel from my bag, and wipe it across my face and neck. People like Aria and Jasmine use spells to dry themselves off; I don’t see the point in wasting energy.

  “Vi, you’re back!” I look up to see Honey limping across the hall toward me. Honey and I might actually be called friends if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m always too busy with extra assignments, and she’s always too busy with her Seer-in-training boyfriend.

  “Yeah, my return couldn’t come fast enough.” I remove my sound drops and gesture toward her leg. “What happened to you?”

  She lets her bag slip off her shoulder and onto the floor. “Ugh, I tripped over Nigel.”

  “Nigel?”

  “Yeah, you know, the stray vine that always sneaks down the second floor corridor?”

  I raise both eyebrows. “You named the vine?”

  “I didn’t. It was that guy who visited last week, the one from the London Guild Council.” She sits down, loops her straight blonde and blue hair behind her ears, and pulls the shoe off her injured foot. “Anyway, the name seems to have stuck.”

  “Great,” I mutter as I search inside my bag for a bottle of water. “Not only did I miss a week of assignments, I also missed the visit of some important Council person.”

  “He was boring,” says Honey. “And what are you worried about missing assignments for? You’re probably still miles ahead of everyone else in the rankings.”

  “Not Ryn.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” Frost appears on her fingers, and she wraps her ice-cold hands carefully around her ankle. “The rankings are secret from now until graduation. And we’ve still got a few more assignments—plus the big final—before then. I’m sure you’ll still come top.”

  “Thanks, Honey.” It seems weird to me that she doesn’t really care where she stands in the rankings. But Honey’s always been like that, not really bothered by points. I look down at her hands; the layer of frost is thick now. “How’s your ankle doing?”

  She rotates it. “I can feel it healing, but it’ll take about another half hour.” She hesitates. “So, uh, I spoke to Rowan when I came in. He asked me to swap with Dale for the second session.” She makes a face. “Sorry about that.”

  Great. A one-on-one in the Fish Bowl with the biggest guy in our class. But all I say is, “No problem. I can take him.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Fish Bowl is an enormous orb that shimmers in the far corner of the Training Center. It had another name once, but it’s been called the Fish Bowl for so long that not even the mentors can remember the original name. Several trainees have already gathered at the edges of the opaque orb, waiting to stick their heads inside to watch my session with Dale. They’re supposed to be doing their own training, of course, but mentors always seem to turn a blind eye when it comes to fifth years.

  On either side of the orb is a tower that stretches almost to the ceiling. I head for the tower on the right. Two figures sit at the very top, their legs dangling over the side. I recognize them from their hair color: blue and blonde is Hank, one of the Training Center designers; pink and brown is Tina, a mentor.

  “So you’re today’s setting designer?” I call up to Hank.

  He leans over and looks down. “Sure am.” He winks. “Hope you enjoy it.”

  “Enjoy it?” I cross my arms. “The last setting you designed gave me a broken arm.”

  Even from down here, I can see the mischief in his eyes. “It’s not my fault you fell off the swinging trapeze.”

  The swinging trapeze. Now that was fun.

  “You nearly ready?” Tina asks. I nod and step onto the starting plate. Tina gets up and walks across the beam that joins the two towers, presumably to check whether Dale is waiting on the other side. I look around. It could be my imagination, but every trainee I make eye contact with seems to give me some kind of self-satisfied smirk. I bet they all love the fact that I, the supposedly perfect trainee, was suspended for a week.

  Well, I’ll just have to show them I still plan to be number one. I close my eyes and rub my hands together. I can do this. Breathe in. I can take down a guy more than double my size. Breathe out.

  “Opponents ready?” My eyelids spring apart at the sound of Tina’s shout. She stands in the center of the beam, her legs slightly apart. She raises her stylus above her head. I tense. Sparks explode from the tip, and “Go!”

  I run at the shimmering wall of the orb. It gives way, ghostly white tendrils wrapping around me as I pass through—and then I’m inside. I stop and look around, taking it all in as quickly as I can. An abandoned warehouse. Scaffolding to climb. Bars to swing from. Planks to balance on.

  A roar from the other side of the warehouse attracts my attention. It’s Dale, barreling straight toward me without bothering to take a look at his surroundings. It’s remarkable how much he reminds me of the goblin I fought last night. I stand still, waiting for him to get closer. And closer. At the last second, I jump aside and grab hold of a metal chain. I scramble up it. Dale tugs the chain to the side, and I almost lose my grip as it swings wildly about.

  I keep climbing. As soon as I’m level with a wooden platform, I jump onto it. The whole thing shudders as Dale throws his weight at it. I lose my balance. I fall, but manage to catch onto a metal bar. I swing, let go, and land on Dale’s shoulders. He topples to the ground, taking me with him. His breath escapes him in a grunt as he hits the ground. My head smacks concrete, and for a second I feel dazed. The transparent top of the Fish Bowl swims before my eyes.

  I blink and sit up. I twist Dale’s head sharply to the side with my knees, but he’s too strong for me to do any real damage. I kick his face as he lashes out with a broken pipe. The sharp end slices across my arm.

  I smell blood. Blood and dust. I roll away from him and jump to my feet. He’s up too. He throws a punch, followed closely by a kick. I dodge both, and while his balance is off, I sweep my leg out behind him. It connects with the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground. I jump onto his back, grab the end of the chain, and wrap it around his neck. He claws at the metal links, then changes tactics. Bringing his elbow up sharply, he knocks me off his back. He turns over, clamps his fist around my neck, and slams me down on the concrete floor. My skull screams in protest. My lungs reach for the air he knocked out of my chest.

  “Ready to surrender?” he growls, leaning over me. With his teeth bared and the chain still wrapped around his neck, he looks like a vicious guard dog. I bring my knee up, hard. His face contorts in pain. His grip loosens, and I kick him away from me. I jump up and place one foot on his chest, then grab the chain and pull it tighter. He struggles, but his flailing becomes weaker and weaker, until eventually his eyes begin to slide shut.

  A loud honk indicates the end of the fight. Immediately, I unwind the chain from Dale’s neck and step away from him. I bend over, trying to regain my breath. Dale rolls onto his knees, clutching the red marks at his neck and gasping something that sounds like bitch. Blood runs from a gash above his eyebrow. It’s almost as bad as the slash across my left arm. If Dale and I were friends, we’d sit on a mat together now and help clean each other’s wounds. That’s not about to happen here.

  After a final I’ll-kil
l-you-next-time-we’re-in-here glare, he stalks out the way he came. I turn and exit the orb in the opposite direction. Ignoring the chattering trainees still hanging around the Fish Bowl, I grab my bag and head for an empty mat. I lie down, pull a bottle out of my bag, and squirt some water down my throat. I wait for my breathing to return to normal before I sit up, cross my legs, and locate my emergency kit. I rifle through it and locate a bandage. My arm won’t take long to heal itself, of course, but it’s better to keep it covered while there’s still an open wound.

  I mop up most of the blood before slowly winding the bandage around my arm. The Fish Bowl area is quiet now; trainees have returned to their activities. Nearby, a mentor is teaching a group of first years how to pull their special guardian weapons out of thin air. I remember the first time we had that lesson. Ryn told everyone he’d be the first to make his weapons appear. He wasn’t, of course.

  “Didn’t your father teach you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

  I freeze for a second, then continue winding the bandage around my arm. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude not to wear clothes in public?”

  “What, you mean this?” Ryn points to his naked chest. “I’ll have you know there are at least ten females in this hall who find my lack of clothing highly attractive.”

  “Well, fortunately for both of us, I’m not one of them.” I tuck the end of the bandage beneath the folds and stand. I don’t like Ryn towering over me. “What do you want?”

  Ryn stares at me with the gaze of a melath serpent about to strike. “I want to know why you were listening in on my conversation earlier.” Dammit, how does he know that? “Could it possibly be because of that little rule-breaking secret of yours I’m still hanging onto? The suspense must be killing you.”

  “The only thing killing me right now is the stench of your hypocrisy.”