creepy hollow 02 - faerie prince

  “Can you blame her?” Raven pulls a chair in front of the mirror and makes me sit down. “This is a big day for her too, Vi. You were her very first trainee, not to mention she’s also like your surrogate mother and sister rolled into one. You should allow her a few tears.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who banished her from the room,” I point out.

  “Yes, well, I don’t want her tears on you.” In the mirror, I see her reach into her makeup case for something. She starts dabbing a sponge over my face.

  “Why aren’t you using makeup spells?” I ask, thinking of all the times I’ve heard her mutter a few quick words and seen a layer of powder form on her palm, or lipstick come out of the tip of her finger.

  “Makeup spells are more for touching up,” she explains. “If you want to do things properly, you need the real stuff.”

  Oops. I guess I didn’t do a proper job at Zell’s masquerade and the Harts’ cocktail party.

  Raven works quickly, coloring my lips with a neutral shade and my eyelids with something dark and smoky. A few brushes of bonze powder enhance the shape of my cheekbones, and a twirl of her stylus lengthens my eyelashes. I hate it when I have to admit that I’m not good at something, but I definitely could not do what she just did.

  “Okay, let’s see if we can tame your mane,” she says as she drops her pot of bronzer back into the case.

  “My mane? Really, Raven, there’s no need to exaggerate.”

  “I’m not sure it’s an exaggeration, Vi. Has your hair ever even been introduced to a hair brush?”

  “I don’t need to brush my hair!” I protest. “I happen to like the messy, wavy, unbrushed look.”

  “Yes. I can see that.” Raven twists a strand of her own sleek, straight hair around her finger as she examines my head. “Well, I say we go with something simple. Curls, some of them pinned up, with small flowers stuck here and there.”

  “Um, sure. You’re the expert.”

  While she heats up her fingers and winds sections of my hair around them, I work up the courage to ask a question I’ve wanted to ask someone ever since I made out with Nate in a tree and a branch spontaneously broke off and almost landed on my head.

  Okay, here goes. “Um, can I ask you something, Raven?”

  “Uh huh.” She lets go of a few pieces of hair, and perfect curls settle over my shoulder.

  “When you’re kissing a guy, and you feel really, uh . . . attracted to him, is it normal to, um . . .” Her fingers stop moving in my hair and she meets my gaze in the mirror. She raises an eyebrow. I clear my throat. “Is it normal to . . .” Dammit, she knows exactly what I’m asking; I can see it in her glittering magenta eyes. “Uh, you know, lose control of your magic? And . . . weird stuff happens?”

  A grin turns her lips up. “Oh yeah. It’s definitely normal.”

  “But that can’t last forever, can it? I mean, things would be exploding all over the place if people couldn’t control themselves every time they kissed or . . . well, other stuff.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “It doesn’t last forever, don’t worry. You learn to control it after a while. Well, with kissing anyway. It’s a little more difficult to control with the ‘other stuff’, as you put it.” Her grin turns mischievous. “You should have seen the first time Flint and I—”

  “Okay,” I interrupt loudly. “I think this falls into the category of Too Much Information.”

  “Well, anyway.” She continues curling my hair. “Now I have to ask: Which boy have you been kissing?” She narrows her eyes at me in the mirror. “Is it at all possible that we’re talking about Ryn?”

  “What? No! Definitely not. There was . . . this other guy.”

  “Other guy?” Raven looks skeptical. “And how come none of us knew about this other guy?”

  I sigh. “Honestly? You wouldn’t have approved of him. He wasn’t really the kind of guy I should have been seeing. I mean, it’s over now, don’t worry,” I assure her. “I just . . . I liked him, he hurt me, and I learned my lesson.”

  “Oh, Vi, I’m—”

  “Please.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t get all soppy on me. I’m totally over it, I promise.” And I realize, as I say the words, that they’re true. I still think about Nate every now and then, but it doesn’t cause that sharp pain in my chest like it used to. And in the days since I finished my final assignment, it hasn’t even crossed my mind to watch his window in the middle of the night. I’ve been visiting Tora, annoying Ryn, cleaning out my house from top to bottom—except for my parents’ bedroom—and using the forest as my training center for random exercises.

  Raven finishes curling my hair, pins a few strands up, and magically attaches tiny flowers here and there. “There,” she says, standing back. “Perfect. Oh, I left your shoes downstairs. Hang on, I’ll go get them.”

  I stand frozen in front of the mirror, afraid for several ridiculous moments that if I move I might mess something up. Then I do something silly and girly that I’ve quite possibly never felt the need to do before: I twirl around in a circle, watching the way the fabric floats out around my body, before stopping to admire the back of the dress.

  When I hear a knock on the door, I brace myself for more of Tora’s tears. When I look up, though, I see a head of black and blue curls peering around the doorway.

  “Zin—Mrs. Larkenwood,” I say, smoothing my hands down over my thighs. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiles as she steps into the room. “You used to call me Zinnia when you were young. I wish you’d still call me that.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Ryn told me you’d be getting ready here, and . . . well, I wanted to see you all dressed up.” She presses her hands together and sits on the edge of the bed. “And I also need to apologize for something. Well, for several things, actually.”

  Confused, I perch on the edge of the bed beside her. I can’t imagine what Zinnia might have to apologize for.

  “I . . . I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you when your father died. I wish I could have been. I was supposed to be.” She takes a deep breath. “Do you know you were meant to come and live with us?”

  My eyes widen as I shake my head.

  “Linden and I—when we were still together—had an agreement with your parents that if anything should happen to us, they would take care of Reed and Ryn, and if anything should happen to your parents, we would take care of you. However, given the circumstances at the time of your father’s death . . . Well, Linden had recently left us, Ryn was angry with everything and everyone in his life, especially you, and I know he would have made life very difficult for you had you come to live with us. So Tora and I arranged for you to stay with her for a while instead. She had been your mentor for almost a year by then, and the two of you got on well together. She cared for you more than you knew, and she was happy to take you in.”

  Zinnia stops talking, and I wonder if I’m supposed to respond now. I can’t imagine how different—how awful—life would have been had I gone to live with Ryn and Zinnia five years ago. Zinnia would have been nice enough, I’m sure, but Ryn undoubtedly would have tried to make my life as miserable as possible. Or perhaps we would have confronted one another far sooner, realized the misunderstanding regarding Reed’s death, and gone back to being friends years ago. The past five years would have been completely different.

  “Anyway, I just want you to know that . . . I’ve always thought of you like a daughter,” Zinnia continues. “I’ve never stopped caring about you or checking in with Tora to see how you’re doing. Ryn’s behavior toward you in the years since Reed’s death has been inexcusable, and I have to apologize for that.” She reaches over and takes my hand. “I don’t know why or how it happened, but I know that the two of you have finally made up, and I am so thankful for that. I only wish I could have done something to make it happen sooner.”

  I squeeze her hand. “You really don’t need to apologize for him, Zinnia. It wasn’t your fault.” I give her
a reassuring smile before standing up.

  “Wait, Vi, there’s something else.” She puts her head in her hands for a moment and groans, then pushes her hair back and looks up at me. “This is the big one because it really is my fault. Um . . .” She runs her hands up and down the length of her thighs. “Before your mother died, she gave me something. A locked wooden box with your name on it. She asked me to keep it safe until the day you graduated. If she were still alive, then of course I would give it back to her so she could give it to you. But if she were no longer alive, then I was to give it to you.”

  With my heart pounding faster in my chest, I slowly say, “Okay.”

  “I hid the box away, checking on it occasionally to make sure it was still there. As the years passed by, I stopped checking. The box was safe, after all. Who would want to take it?”

  I press one hand to my lips, knowing without a doubt that this story isn’t going to have a happy ending.

  “After your father died, I remembered the box and went to check it was still there.” Zinnia looks down at the floor. “It was gone. I don’t know when, or how, but it was gone. I asked Linden about it—he was the only other person who knew where I’d hidden it—but he swore he’d never touched it. And what would he want with it, anyway? He was living a happy life outside of Creepy Hollow with his new wife and child.”

  I nod, although I’m not quite sure why. Part of me wishes Zinnia had never told me any of this. Now I’ll forever be wondering what it was my mother wanted to give me. I drop my hand from my mouth. “Why . . . why didn’t she give it to my father?”

  “I think she was afraid that he wouldn’t be alive either by the time you graduated. The two of them always liked to take on the most dangerous assignments.” She shakes her head, blinking away tears. “Looks like she was right.”

  I turn my back to Zinnia so she won’t see the moisture in my eyes. I don’t usually cry over my parents, but that’s because I try not to think about them much. Zinnia’s story has brought them right to the forefront of my mind, reminding me that neither of them is here to share this incredibly important occasion with me.

  Ugh, what am I doing? I’m going to make myself cry if I keep having thoughts like that. My parents wouldn’t want me to cry on the day of my graduation, would they? I suppose I don’t know what my mother would say, but I know my father wouldn’t want me to cry. He saw how hard I worked for every single assignment. He’d be ridiculously excited and proud if he were here today; he wouldn’t want me crying over a box.

  “This is supposed to be a happy day,” I say, turning back to Zinnia. “It’s a celebration day. We shouldn’t be crying. Yes, an important box went missing, and we’ll never know what was inside it, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  She sits up straight and stares at me. “You . . . have amazing strength.”

  I look away. I’m not sure her words are true. Most of the time I try not to think about all the things that hurt; that probably has a lot more to do with weakness than strength.

  She puts her arms carefully around my shoulders and hugs me. “I really am sorry,” she whispers into my ear. “And I’m very proud of you.” She pulls back and rearranges some of the curls over my shoulder. “Well, I need to dash home and change into something suitable for a graduation ceremony. I expect Ryn will be here soon to meet you.”

  With a final smile, she leaves the room. After checking my appearance once more in the mirror, I pick up Raven’s makeup case and the empty dress bag and head downstairs. Tora goes on and on about how beautiful and grown-up I look while Raven straps me into high-heeled shoes and nerves begin to bounce around my stomach once more.

  We stand around, Raven and Tora chattering on about something, while we wait for Ryn. And wait. And wait some more. After half an hour, my frustration levels have reached a new high. I tuck my amber into the straps of one shoe, and my stylus into the other, and announce, “I’m leaving now.”

  “Oh.” Raven looks around as though she has no idea how much time as passed. “But Ryn isn’t here yet.”

  “Well, the ceremony is due to start in ten minutes, and, while Ryn may not care if he misses his own graduation, I certainly don’t feel the same way.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I peer through the ornate double doors and scan the crowded hall for the guy who is going to be in big trouble when I find him. My eyes brush over the groups of parents, mentors, and trainees, but I can’t see Ryn anywhere. Where the flip is he?

  I step back into the hallway and lean against the wall. One part of me worries about him, but another, larger part is definitely still furious. Everyone is supposed to have a date to this thing, and now I have to walk in there alone.

  I do my best to act invisible as a group of my classmates walks past me. Guys in suits and girls in—just as Raven predicted—big puffy dresses. I don’t think they even noticed me standing there. “I’m taking bets,” says one of them from just inside the doorway. “Who’s your money on? Ryn or Vi?”

  Yeah, they definitely didn’t notice me.

  “Are those the only choices?” a girl asks. Aria, I think.

  “Well, we all know it’s going to be one or the other.”

  “What about Asami?” someone else asks. “I heard his mentor telling my mentor that he was catching up to first place in the last few assignments before our final.”

  “You mean the few weeks since we haven’t been allowed to see the rankings?”

  “Yes. And his final went really well, so it’s definitely possible he’s pulled ahead.”

  Oh flipping hell, are you kidding me? I tip my head back against the wall and close my eyes. Now I’m dateless and I’m losing my top position to someone I never even considered a threat? I bang my head against the wall, which hurts quite a bit more than I expected. “That was stupid,” I mutter.

  With a deep breath, I hold my head up high and walk right past my classmates, down the center aisle, and toward the sixteen chairs reserved at the front left of the hall. I don’t look up while I search for my name. I find it in the second row of eight and take my seat. A minute later, the tinkling of a bell tells everyone still standing to get their butts on a chair.

  The ceremony is about to begin.

  To be honest, I don’t hear much of the blah, blah, blah that goes on at the beginning. Head Councilor Starkweather talks for a while, followed by a guest speaker who tries to inspire us with exciting tales of the exotic adventures he’s been on. I can’t concentrate on any of it, though, because I keep glancing behind me to see if Ryn is standing at the back of the hall. I see Tora, Raven and Flint, who must have been given the evening off guard duty so he could attend. I see Zinnia, looking anxious, and, further back, Ryn’s father. Everyone who’s supposed to be here is here—except Ryn.

  Before I know it, Councilor Starkweather is calling the first graduate up to the stage to receive his markings.

  Okay, WHERE IS RYN!

  My classmates go up to the stage in alphabetical order, each taking about three minutes to recite the Guardian’s Oath and receive their markings from the only Guild Council member who’s certified to draw them. When it comes to my turn—my big moment!—I’m still freaking out over the fact that Ryn is missing. Doesn’t his empty chair bother anyone else? Does this happen every year, someone deciding not to show up?

  Stop, I tell myself sternly. Ryn has made his decision, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Don’t let him ruin this moment for you. I get carefully to my feet. My dress may not be heavy and layered, but I still don’t want to trip over it. The short journey from my chair to the steps at the side of the stage seems to take forever. I lift my dress and climb the stairs, willing myself not to wobble on my high heels. I walk across the stage and come to a halt in front of Councilor Starkweather. With my right side facing the audience, I repeat the words of the oath after her, barely hearing myself over the roar of blood pumping through my ears. I know what I’m supposed to say—something about swearing t
o protect whomever needs protecting, be it human or fae—but if I didn’t have someone to repeat after, I’d probably just stand here squealing, This is it, this is it, this is it!

  When the oath comes to an end, I walk past Councilor Starkweather and kneel in front of the table where the markings artist sits. I raise my hands and place them, wrists up, on the table. The artist dips his specially sharpened stylus into a pot of black ink and begins to draw the curling pattern onto my skin. It stings a little, but we were all warned to expect that. As he works, he whispers the words of the spell that will transfer the protective enchantments from my trainee pendant to the ink embedded in my skin.

  With a nod of his head to indicate he’s done, the markings artist leans back. Councilor Starkweather clears her throat, turns to the front of the stage, and utters the words I’ve been working five years to hear: “You are now a member of the Guild of Guardians.”

  I stand and turn around, dimly aware of the clapping as I look out at the sea of faces. I catch Tora’s glistening eyes, and then my gaze is drawn to the back of the hall. I see him standing there, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching me with an expression I can’t figure out. I should be yelling where the hell have you been, but instead I’m so full of joy and excitement that all I want to do is fling my arms around him and do a whole lot of uncharacteristic squealing. And kissing.

  No. I do not want to kiss Ryn.

  I carefully make my way off the other side of the stage and back to my chair. After two more trainees have received their markings, Councilor Starkweather calls Ryn’s name. He saunters down the aisle as though it’s completely acceptable for him to have shown up late to one of the most important occasions of his life. I realize then that my earlier frustration with him has definitely not disappeared.

  By the time he takes his seat, I’ve surreptitiously removed my amber and stylus from the straps around my ankles. I write a quick message and send it to him. You suck as a date.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him slip his hand inside his jacket. A moment later my amber vibrates. I thought this wasn’t a date.