Masquerade (Creepy Hollow, #4) (2 page)

*

My dreams fade into one another. Dreams of drowning and screaming. Dreams of bubbles and lights. Dreams of a boy with sun-darkened skin and laughing eyes.

The pillow beneath my head is soft. I crack my eyes open enough to see familiar blue and green swirls on the fabric beside my cheek. How did I get home?

*

I don’t know how long it is before I finally feel the pull of the waking world. I rub my eyes and blink several times, trying to orient myself in this room that seems familiar and yet not familiar. Why is there a fireplace?

I think about sitting up, but the memory of what happened inside the mountain comes slamming back, enough to pin me down to the bed. I imagine Nate standing in the shadows of the cave, and it feels like something is pressing down on my chest. I can’t breathe properly.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t—

Ryn’s face appears in front of mine. I jerk away. “What—what are you doing here?” My voice is croaky.

He raises an eyebrow. “I live here.”

My mouth forms a confused O, but then I realize that’s why everything looks so familiar-but-not-familiar. This isn’t my home; it’s Ryn’s. And the bed I thought I was sleeping on isn’t actually a bed; it’s the couch I spent many nights on, years ago, in what feels like another lifetime. It’s been made up like a bed though, with the same sheets and cover I remember from my childhood.

I should sit up now—I feel quite vulnerable just lying here—but my body is stiff and achy. I blink a few more times and look around. From what I can see of the sitting room, it looks pretty much the same as the last time I was here. Ryn kneels on the floor, leans his elbows on the edge of the couch, and laces his fingers together. He rests his chin on top of his fingers and, with his face entirely too close for comfort, fixes me with his bright blue stare. “Would now be a good time to say ‘I told you so’?” he asks.

I roll onto my back so I don’t have to look at him. “Depends. Did you ever tell me that my halfling boyfriend would betray me to an evil faerie?”

One of Ryn’s elbows slips off the couch. “That guy’s a
halfling
? Wait, you have a
boyfriend
?”

I sigh. “Like that’s really the most important piece of news right now.”

“I’d say it certainly merits some attention.” Ryn resumes his position at the edge of the couch. “Who would have thought you’d be able to find someone interested in keeping your company?”

Thanks.
If it was anyone else, I’d be offended. It’s Ryn though, and I’ve had years to get used to his insults. I meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you just leave me there to die, Ryn? We’d both be having a far more pleasant time right now if you had.”

“If you were dead, Pixie Sticks, there’d be no one for me to torment.”

“Do you mean to tell me that I’m the only one you bestow your delightful insults upon?” I place a hand on my chest. “I’m touched.” And now it’s definitely time to go. I push myself into a sitting position and run a hand through my hair. It’s clean. The bed cover falls away from me and it appears I’m also wearing clean clothes. They must be Zinnia’s.

“Love the dress you had on,” Ryn says without moving away. “It showed off your pixie-stick legs to full advantage.” If I had enough energy I’d slap him. “I see you’ve also taken to wearing a certain fashion item in your ears.” There’s an edge to his voice as his fingertips brush my earlobe.

I swat his hand away. “I don’t wear them to annoy you, you know.” I picture the tiny arrow-shaped earrings and push away the memory of Nate finding them in the bottom of my boot. “It’s an added bonus, of course, but the real reason I wear them is because they remind me of Reed.”

Ryn’s eyes bore into mine. “And when you wear them, do you think of me too? Or have you forgotten that they were a gift from both of us?”

My eyes slip away from his. I had forgotten that.

“Violet, you’re awake.” I look up to see Ryn’s mother at the foot of the stairs. She’s dressed all in black, with an array of small knives secured in a belt around her hips. She must be on her way to an assignment.

I swing my legs around and stand up. “Zin—Mrs Larkenwood,” I say, feeling a little light-headed. “Thank you for taking care of me, and for the clothes.”

“Vi, are you sure you should be standing up?” She hurries across the room. “You were very badly hurt. You may need more rest.”

“Oh, I think I’m fine.” I wave away her concern, despite the dizziness that swirls in my head. “I should be getting home now. I just want you to know how grateful I am. You must have used a lot of healing magic.”

Her eyes flick to Ryn for a second before returning to me. “I should have done so much more,” she says softly. I’m not quite sure what she means. I get the feeling she wants to say something else, but instead she steps forward and hugs me. Her dark, curly hair tickles my cheek. It has blue in it, just like Ryn’s. “Take care of yourself, Vi.” She steps back and turns to Ryn. “Can I speak to you?”

Ryn sighs. “If you must.” He follows her out of the room.

Don’t think about Nate. Don’t think about Nate.

I look around for my belongings. I can’t see Raven’s dress—it’s probably been thrown away—but I find my boots standing against the wall beside the fireplace, and my stylus on the mantelpiece. I sit down on the low table in front of the couch and pull the boots on. I wave my hand across them and watch the laces tie themselves all the way up to my knees.

“So,” says Ryn, wandering back into the room. “Mom’s team is off to Italy for a few days.” He throws himself into an armchair. “The glamorous life of a guardian.”

“Italy?” I turn my back on him and begin removing the bedding from the couch. “Don’t they have their own Guild?”

“Apparently the Italians need my mother’s expertise.”

I fold up the bedding and leave it lying on the couch. Hopefully Ryn will deal with it before his mother returns. “Well, thanks for saving my life.” I turn to leave.

Ryn jumps up and follows me to the part of the wall where I used to let myself out. “Do you remember when we didn’t hate each other?” His voice is as light as though he’s enquiring about the weather.

I cross my arms. “My memory doesn’t extend that far back.”

“Really? Your memory’s that bad?” He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall. “Doesn’t seem like you; you’re so good at holding a grudge.”

“Multiple grudges, if we’re going to get technical.”

“Have I really done that many awful things to you, Pixie Sticks?”

“You stuck a sign on my back that said ‘Call me Shorty’ on our very first day of training.”

“You have to admit, that one was rather amusing.”

“In third year you told everyone I had some kind of contagious disease.”

“Well, you did have a suspicious mark on your—”

“And in fourth year I was apparently having an affair with a five-hundred-year-old mentor.”

“Should I have picked a younger one for you to—”

“You threw away my mother’s tokehari!” I shout at him.

A beat of silence. Then, “Oh? My memory’s a little fuzzy on that one. You’ll have to remind me of the details.”

“Gold chain. Gold key. You chucked it down the singing well that leads Underground.”

“A key? Oh dear, have you been locked out of somewhere ever since?”

“No, Ryn, but that’s not the point, dammit!” Tears burn behind my eyes. “It was never meant to open anything, it was meant to be a reminder of my mother.”

“Well, a key that doesn’t open anything sounds like a useless key, and even if you still had it, I doubt you’d be able to remember your mother. You were only three years old when she—”

“STOP!” My whole body is shaking. “I don’t care how much of a jerk you decided to become, you have
never
had the right to do or say any of these things.”

He pushes away from the wall. “I didn’t
decide
to become a jerk, okay. Things happened, and—”

“Things happened?
Things?
” Is it possible that eight years have passed and this is the first time we’re talking about Reed? “He was my friend too, Ryn. But I didn’t see his death as a reason to alienate every person who ever cared for me.”

“Well, everyone has different methods of coping.” His hands are out of his pockets now, clenched into fists at his sides. The look in his eyes warns me to back off. I ignore it.

“This is a
coping method
? Well, clearly it’s not working for you.”

“He was my brother!” Ryn yells, all pretense of composure shattered. “How the hell did you expect me to cope with that?”

I step closer to him. So close our faces are almost touching. “You want a coping method? Here’s one you obviously haven’t tried yet: GET. OVER. IT.” Clenching my stylus so tightly I’m in danger of snapping it in half, I scrawl a doorway onto the wall. Without another look at him, I step into the darkness.

I run. My limbs feel weak, and my heart pounds unnaturally fast, but still I run. I have to. I need to.
How could he do this to me?
I push harder, the dark forest streaming past me, air burning in my throat. I don’t want to think of him. Not ever again. But every footstep that slams into the ground shoots his name across my mind. Nate, Nate, Nate, Nate, Nate—
Ugh!
How could he do this?
I skid to a halt, stumble, and trip over a pixie that wasn’t there a second ago. It scurries away as I fall onto my hands and knees. I clench a fistful of leaves and twigs and let out a wordless scream.

It feels good.

I crawl toward the gnarled roots of the nearest tree and collapse against them. My breathing is heavy. I guess Zinnia was right about me needing more rest. I close my eyes and see Nate’s smiling face against the back of my eyelids. Something twists painfully in my chest. He said he cared about me. He almost said he
loved
me! So how could he trick me into walking right into Zell’s hands? Zell must have some kind of hold over him, right? My desperate heart begins grasping for excuses, but I chase them away. There is no excuse good enough for what Nate did. I would never have betrayed him like that, no matter what anyone threatened me with.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I want to stay angry. I try to cling to it, but I feel it slipping away, leaving a hollow ache behind. My chest hitches and a sob escapes my lips. Then another. The forest swims before my eyes as tears well up and spill down my cheeks. I find my stylus and write a doorway on the tree trunk behind me. I crawl into it.

On the other side, in my sitting room, I don’t bother standing up. I drag myself over to the couch, lean back, and draw my knees up to my chest. The tears keep falling. I don’t try to stop them. I feel as though I am crying with my whole body. Great, shuddering gasps that leave me even more desperate for air.

Something soft nudges my side. Filigree, in white mink form, slips into the gap between my legs and chest. His warm, furry form is comforting, which makes me cry even harder.

I wipe my hands across my face. Stupid, stupid, STUPID. I should
not
be crying over a boy. I didn’t even love him. “I DID NOT!” I shout, watching a few sparks fly off my tongue. I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince. Filigree snuggles closer, his claws poking me through my clothes. No. I didn’t love Nate. I was just stupid enough to care about him, that’s all. And now I am alone again. There is no one for me to daydream about. No one for me to visit at night. No one for me to share my world with. It’s just Filigree and me alone in this house again. Like it was before.

Except now it’s a lot worse, because now I know what I’m missing.

I take a deep breath and push myself to my feet. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Fili.” I sniff and rub my eyes. “We can make it the way it used to be.” With Filigree curled around my neck, I hurry upstairs to my bedroom. I pull my emergency kit out of my training bag and dump the contents on my bed. “Where is it, where is it . . . There.” I wrap my hand around the tiny vial, then push it into my pocket. I pull Filigree off my neck and place him on the bed, where he promptly turns into an owl. He stares at me with unblinking eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take it. Not yet, anyway.” I pat his feathery head. “I’ll be back soon.”