creepy hollow 03 - faerie war
“Probably.” I gently rub my still-burning palms together until a mist begins to pour from them. I blow it toward the bars. It curls through the air, but instead of passing between the bars, it meets an invisible barrier. “Yeah. Same as the net.”
When I look back at him, Ryn is watching me with an expression I can’t quite define. Sadness and longing? More than that? Just when I start to feel a little weird, he looks away. He leans against the bars and examines his hands. “At least we can still use magic, even if it’s only in here.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t we be able to use magic?”
Instead of answering me, he pushes back the sleeve of his right arm. Then he reaches forward and takes my right hand. He gently pushes my sleeve up until I can see my guardian markings and the scar that rings my wrist. The scar that matches his. “I started telling you about it before,” he says, “but I was interrupted. Zell discovered a metal that blocks magic. He fashioned the metal into strips that could wrap around a person’s wrist and stick there, blocking the use of magic. I’ve worn one. You’ve worn two.” He touches my wrist, sending a shiver up my arm. “The metal is incredibly painful to remove from your skin, and when the procedure is finished, it leaves a scar.”
“Unlike any of our other wounds,” I murmur.
“Yeah. Anyway.” He folds his arms across his chest and walks to the other side of the cell. He leans against the wall and says, “We need to be smart about this. There’s no point in trying to attack them when they’re on the other side of the bars. But they’ll have to come inside eventually, to move us out, if nothing else—”
“And that’s when we’ll strike.”
“Yes. We’ll need to gather power so that if the opportunity comes to stun them, we can take it.”
“But we won’t know when they’re coming, and once they do, there won’t be enough time to gather all that power.”
“There might be, if we keep them talking before they come in.”
I sit down on the floor and cross my legs. I nod. “We can try that.” I look up. “Do we fight well together? I mean, not against each other, but as a team?”
He joins me on the floor, but on the opposite side of the room. “We do. At least, we did before you forgot me.”
Right. So the fact that I took that stupid potion is once again ruining everything. But I don’t want to go back to talking about that because there’s really no point. I don’t know what else to talk about, though. There are so many questions I want to ask about my past, but how can I when they don’t seem nearly as important as our present? When the silence between us begins to feel awkward, I say, “I assume they took your amber and stylus?”
Ryn nods. “I checked as soon as I woke up.” He leans forward and runs his finger along the rough floor. “You know, silence used to feel natural between us. We were friends for a long time before we hated each other. And then we were friends again before we were . . . more. The point is, I don’t want you to feel weird around me. Yes, I miss the way things were, but I’m certainly not going to force myself on you. If the only thing we can be is friends, then I’ll take that. So . . .” He gives me the smile I was probably madly in love with in my previous life. “No weird silences?”
I return the smile. “Okay. No weird silences. But just so you know, if you did try anything, I’d—”
My words are cut off by the echo of heavy boots in the passage outside our cell. Ryn and I jump to our feet immediately. Any remaining sluggishness from the stunner spell vanishes from my system. I imagine reaching into the core of my being as I start gathering power. I hope Ryn is doing the same.
A bald, tattooed manticore rider slows to a lazy swagger as he comes into view. “Well, well, look who’s awake.” He grasps the bars and leans forward, obviously confident we won’t be able to hurt him from in here. “Did you have a good night?” he asks with a smirk.
“Look, I think there might be a mistake here,” Ryn says carefully. “We’re not marked; you’re not marked. Surely we should be on the same side?”
The rider faerie laughs. “We’re on no one’s side but our own.”
I make sure I’m still gathering power before I say, “So why lock us up? Why not just let us get on with our own business?”
“Because that would be bad for our business.”
“Which is what exactly?” Ryn asks, not quite as politely before.
Tattooed Guy scratches his chin before saying, “I guess you could call it bounty hunting.”
What? “And we’re the bounty?”
“You got that right, sweetheart.”
Ryn moves a little closer to me. “Why? What did we do?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Tattooed Guy waves a dismissive hand. “No need to blame yourself. It’s all about who you are, not what you’ve done. You see, we have a deal with some of Draven’s men. They steer clear of our territory, and we bring them unmarked fae. For a fee, of course. And guardians are worth the most.” He rubs his hands together, probably in anticipation of his payout. “So, you’ll be visiting the Unseelie Court. Not yet, of course. We like to collect at least ten fae before making the trip. Until then, and as long as we have another free cell, we should probably separate the two of you.”
Ryn takes another step toward me, so that his body is partially blocking mine. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Oh, I think it is.” Tattooed Guy looks to the side as another pair of footsteps makes its way toward our cell. The second rider who aided in our capture saunters into view with a large cylinder held over his shoulder. He watches us with a smug expression, and I know he wants us to ask, so I do.
I nod my head toward the cylinder and say, “What is that?”
The smug smile stretches wider. “I know you guardians have your pretty weapons, but this is something that’ll blow the underpants off anything you’ve got.”
“I doubt it,” Ryn mutters.
“Do you now, young master guardian? Well, I’ve always been a collector of shiny things, and right here—” he pats the cylinder “—is where I keep my lightning collection.”
My eyebrows climb higher.
“Yup, I’ve been fortunate lately with all the storms Draven’s been throwing around. Plenty of opportunity for lightning collection.” He takes a step closer to the bars and watches me with unblinking eyes. “Ever been fried by lightning, missy?”
I don’t actually know, but I’m guessing probably not. Before I can say anything, his partner pulls out a key from his pocket, holds it up, and says, “So. You two just behave yourselves, and no one will get hurt.”
I return my attention to the power I’m gathering. I’ve definitely got enough to stun one of them. I look over at Ryn, but he’s watching the rider insert the key into the lock. The key twists, and the loud click tells us the door is open. He steps inside and beckons to me. “Come quietly, little guardian, and I won’t have to hurt your friend.”
I don’t move.
With a sigh, he walks toward me. I’m about to send all my stunning power straight at him, but Ryn gets there first. He throws his arms out faster than I can blink. But instead of seeing the rider fall, I see bright, crackling light flash past me. I recoil as I hear it strike the wall.
After blinking my temporary blindness away, I find the three of us inside the cell still standing, along with a small crater in the wall. The second rider is standing in the doorway with his lightning cylinder pointed at Ryn. The smug smile has been wiped from his face.
“Next time, it’ll be your face, pretty boy,” he warns.
He must have shot lightning at Ryn’s power to keep it from striking the rider inside the cell. There’s no time now for Ryn to gather more power, which means it’s down to me. If I can stun the lightning guy before the cell is locked, hopefully Ryn can take down the guy who now has his hands on me.
I put up a fight as he drags me from the cell, but only for show. I want to get out so I can get to the other guy. Ryn grabs my arm as I pass hi
m, but the lightning cylinder swings to point at me instead, and Ryn backs off at once. Lightning Guy steps back from the doorway to allow my captor and me to leave. The moment I pass the bars, I tear one arm free and shove it toward Lightning Guy, releasing all my pent up power. He knocks my arm to the side with his cylinder, sending all my power straight into the passage wall instead. The wall shudders, and a crack appears.
Dammit!
I jab my elbow back hard into my captor’s stomach and slam my boot down onto his foot. His hold on me loosens enough for me to pull away from him and aim a punch at Lightning Guy. Before I can swing my arm forward, the cylinder flies at my head.
I hear Ryn’s shout, but I can’t see anything for a few moments. When my vision clears, I find myself on the passage floor with a throbbing ache threatening to split my head in half. I see Ryn struggling with the first guy. Then I see the flash of crackling light that strikes Ryn in the chest and throws him back into his cell.
“No!” I scramble up onto my knees, but Lightning Guy grabs a fistful of my jacket and drags me across the floor to the next cell. I kick him as hard as I can, and he kicks me right back. The impact of his foot in my stomach sends me across the threshold and into the cell.
The door slams shut.
As soon as I’m able to breathe again, I start calling out for him. “Ryn? Ryn, are you okay? Are you there?” I pat against the wall, then start banging with my fists. I stick my arm between the bars at the edge of my cell and stretch as far as I can to the side. I can’t reach the next cell, but I slap my hand against the wall and call for him some more.
Nothing I do gets any response from him.
Oh, please, please, please be okay. I realize my face is wet with tears. I don’t know why I’m crying. I only just met this guy. We’re barely even friends. But I know what he’s supposed to mean to me, and maybe I was starting to feel just a hint of that. I figured that with time, maybe I’d come to realize why the old me cared so much for him, and maybe I’d care for him too. But what if that time is up? What if he’s gone and I didn’t even get a chance to know him again?
No. He can’t be dead. I clutch my aching head in my hands and start pacing the cell. Like Jamon said, it’s really difficult to kill faeries. The only way Ryn could die is if his injuries are so bad that his body’s magic can’t heal them before it runs out. His injuries would have to be really severe. Does lightning count as really severe?
Of course it does, the horribly logical part of my brain screams at me. It’s lightning, for crap’s sake. If lightning collected from an enchanted storm could gouge a crater into a solid brick wall, what could it do to a faerie’s body? I don’t want to imagine it. I don’t want to think about the state he’s in right now. I don’t want to know if the burning flesh smell lingering in the air is real or imagined.
I continue pacing the floor of my cell because there’s nothing else to do. I can’t bear to sit still. Every few minutes I start calling Ryn’s name again. He never calls back. I have no idea what time of day or night it is because this cell has no window either, and the dim light in the passage never changes.
Eventually—has it been hours yet?—I take off my jacket and transform it into a mattress big enough for me to curl up on. I lie next to the bars so that I’ll be the first to hear it if Ryn makes a noise. I don’t think it’ll be possible for me to fall asleep—and I don’t think I should sleep, what with Ryn close to death next door—but the next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes to the sound of disappearing footsteps, realizing I didn’t hear them approaching in the first place.
I guess I fell asleep, but whether it was for two minutes or two hours or more, I have no way of telling. “Ryn?” I tap on a metal bar with my knuckle, then call his name again.
Still nothing.
I notice a different smell in the air. Something like food. I sit up and find a bowl of soup at my feet. Vegetable chunks float in a pool of brownish liquid. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing, but the smell draws me closer. I guess it’s not in the bounty hunters’ best interests to starve their prisoners. I’m sure strong, healthy faeries fetch a better price than malnourished ones.
The last thing I want to do is accept food from these people, and the thought of Ryn lying seriously injured—or worse—next door turns my stomach. But I also know it’s not in my best interest either to starve myself. When the time comes to take that trip to the Unseelie Court, we will fight our way out of here. So I take the bowl of soup in my hands and start eating.
When one of the tattooed faeries returns to take my bowl, I jump up. “The guy next door,” I say. “Is he okay? Is he . . . is he still alive?”
The faerie smirks at me, bends to take the bowl from beneath the gate, and leaves without saying a word.
“Wait!” I shout after him. “Just answer me, dammit!”
I sink back onto my mattress. Maybe I should have asked nicely. Begged or used the word ‘please,’ at least. As disgusting as it would make me feel, I could try begging next time he comes by. This is about Ryn, after all, and he’s more important than my pride.
I realize my headache has passed. I examine my hands and see that the crisscross of red burns has healed, which explains why my back doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe I was asleep for quite a long time. Which means . . .
Why hasn’t Ryn woken up yet?
I resume my pacing and my silent begging. Please, please, please be okay. I shake the bars and bang on the walls a few times to release some frustration. It doesn’t really work, but it does reveal to me that there’s a tiny hole in the wall that divides Ryn’s cell from mine. It’s at the level of my hip and can’t be bigger than a pinhead. The crater, I remember suddenly. It must have broken almost right through the wall.
I kneel down and press my eye to the hole, but of course I can’t see anything. I drag my mattress over and sit next to the hole. This will be better than shouting into the passage when Ryn wakes up.
Because he will wake up.
I lean against the wall and tilt my head back. I lift my hand and blow air gently over it until a bubble forms. It floats off my hand and into the air. I create more bubbles, trying to fashion each one into a different shape. It passes the time and helps to relax me. Instead of thinking about Ryn never waking up, I think about telling him all the complex shapes I was able to create when he does wake up.
I’ve just blown a bubble that looks like a rabbit when I hear a dull thud through the wall behind me. I freeze with my hand in the air.
“V? You there?”
Relief explodes within me like warm, golden rays of sunlight. I scramble around and speak into the hole. “Ryn! You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive,” he croaks. “No manticore-riding, bald guys stand a chance against me, right?”
My words sound so weak repeated back to me now, but I’m so happy he’s alive that I laugh anyway.
“Are you okay?” he asks me.
“Am I okay? Ryn, you got hit by lightning. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. What’s the word? Peachy. I’m totally peachy.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help smiling. When I said it, I made sure to put as much sarcasm behind the word as possible, but the way Ryn says it tells me he’s not peachy but doesn’t want me to know. I place both hands against the wall. “You can’t possibly be peachy, Ryn. Tell me how you really are.”
“Well, there might have been a hole in my chest at some point, but it seems to be healing. I don’t think the lightning that hit me was as powerful as the one that hit the wall.”
A hole in his chest? And he survived that?
“Anyway, you didn’t answer me,” he continues. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Bored and frustrated—” and terrified you were dead “—but otherwise fine.”
“Good. Uh, there’s a bowl of cold soup on my floor. Do you know if it’s safe?”
“Well, I ate mine a few hours ago, and I’m still alive.”
I wait for him to fetch his b
owl. When a shadow moves past the hole, I assume that means he’s returned to the wall. I remember my promise about no awkward silences and decide to fill the quiet before it becomes awkward. “I was thinking about what that guy said about taking us to the Unseelie Court. That must mean Draven is based there.”
“Probably. Although it sounded like we’ll be handed over to Draven’s men, not directly to the lord. The prisoner we had at our base for a while—the one who’s now been cured—told us Draven was probably using the Unseelie Court as his base, but she didn’t know for sure.”
“Well, as much as I want to see Draven up close and put an end to all this, we can’t do that until we find the Star.”
“No. We need to get away long before we reach the Unseelie Court.” He goes quiet, probably eating his cold soup. After a minute or so he says, “I hope Arthur’s okay. Oliver certainly isn’t going to be happy with me when he finds out I lost his dragon.”
“Well, he can comfort himself with the fact that Arthur will be happier in the wild than locked up in a cramped enclosure.”
“Arthur is a shrinking dragon, V. Space was never a problem as long as he was in his shrunken form.”
“Oh. A shrinking dragon? That . . . sounds vaguely familiar. Did we learn about them at school?”
“Yeah. Junior school. And one of our early group assignments involved a shrinking dragon.”
“Oh.” I lean sideways against the wall and twist a piece of hair around my finger. If I have to find something positive in this situation, it’s that I can learn more about my past.
“You know, I was thinking about something before that explosion at the base.” Ryn’s voice sounds a little further away, as if he’s lying down now. “Why can’t you remember any of your assignments? It’s not like you loved the creatures you had to fight.”
Good point, but I stopped trying to figure out my memory problems a while ago. “Um, I do remember brief flashes of fighting various creatures,” I say, “so I haven’t forgotten them entirely.”