Reflection Pond (5 page)

Ever.

A soft knock drew her from the mirror to the door. A woman smiled from the hallway, her blond hair falling in soft waves around her face, drawing a snap of memory from Callie, like seeing a photograph of someone she knew years ago.

The woman wore a shimmering golden gown that showed the intricate, curving tattoo on her chest. “Calla Lily,” she whispered, drawing Callie into a soft, fragrant hug. “I can’t believe you’re finally here. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting.”

Callie pulled away from the awkward hug and the woman laughed, a light, bell sound. Her dress swooshed as she led Callie deeper into the room. “Of course you wouldn’t recognize me. I’m Sapphire.”

But Callie did recognize her, or at least, she
thought
she did. Something prickled at the back of her mind, and eventually bloomed into realization. “You look like me.”

Sapphire’s smile stretched into a grin.

“Yes.” She draped an arm over Callie’s shoulders and led her to the mirror. Their eyes stared back, identically slanted. Their hairlines arched into the same peak, just slightly off center. The same bow lips, the same dusting of freckles.

“Sisters,” Sapphire said softly. “Not that I’m supposed to tell you that. Family is hard to find around here, but I have an advantage. I saw you coming.”

“You did?” Callie murmured, still transfixed on the mirror.
Sister,
she thought. Someone to hold her hand, someone to share secrets with, someone to love. She wanted that, didn’t she? Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “You’re lying.” If this was some kind of joke, it was the worst kind of cruel.

Sapphire laughed again, squeezing Callie’s shoulders, warming them. “If only you knew how funny that is.” She withdrew and moved toward the door, dress glistening like a jar of fireflies. “I just wanted to say hello before the ceremony. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up now that you’re home.”

The door shut behind Sapphire, leaving Callie alone. She leaned over, putting her hands on her knees. “When I open my eyes,” she whispered, “this will all disappear.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she took three deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Three…

***

Rowan felt Callie shiver. Her arm was delicate against his, as though any force might take her down. The pulse at her wrist fluttered erratically and the vessels at her throat jumped just as fast.

The people spread before him like a sea of twinkling colors. Rowan knew all their names and faces, how long they’d lived in
Eirensae,
what their powers were, but he could think of less than ten whom he actually cared for.

Callie’s fingers pushed into his arm and he snuck a sideways glance at her. She’d lifted her chin, but her free hand trembled against the banister. An uncertain smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Rowan wished he had a camera to record this moment, one of the few he might like to take with him when he left. He settled for memorizing the graceful slope of her neck, the slant of her cheekbones, the way her scent—lilacs and chamomile—made him dizzy. He should’ve told her she looked beautiful, she was, after all, a girl, and they liked that sort of thing.

When they reached the final steps, the crowd broke into applause.

“People of
Eirensae,
” Hazel cried. She stood on the stage in the center of the room, her tiny body swathed in gold fabric, a crown of red curls around her head. “I present to you, Calla Lily, a child of
Eirensae
returned to her rightful home.”

Cheers resounded through the crowd. Rowan clapped along with the rest of them. Callie’s cheeks flamed bright pink and she stared at the gold-flecked floor.

Hazel lifted her arms and the glowing orbs that hung suspended above them flickered. “Join me in welcoming her.” She said a few more words in Gaelic, which were repeated by the crowd, and then the band behind her started playing. Hazel stepped off the stage and disappeared into the throng of people.

“What did she say?” Callie asked, angling toward Rowan.

“The Gaelic? It’s an ancient incantation. It means welcome home.”

“Oh,” she said. Her expression remained perplexed. “Can I ask you something?” she murmured, gazing over his shoulder.

He shrugged.

“Is it weird…or maybe wrong, that all of this…it feels—I feel,” her words drifted away.

“Like home?” he supplied, feeling his throat close around the word.

Callie bit her lip.
“Never mind.”

Rowan kept Callie firmly in his grasp as she
was passed from person to person. Some of them hugged her and whispered, “Welcome home,” while others touched her forearm, her face, her hair. The sweet scent of flowers and honey with an earthy undertone enveloped them. He knew the welcome ceremony was overwhelming Callie, but for some reason, the gentle return pressure of her fingers on his relieved him.

Callie inspected the palace with a silly, half-smile on her lips. The room
rose two stories above them. Glowing orbs danced like a million stars in the space—so many that he couldn’t make out the ceiling beyond them. Blue fabric that matched Callie’s dress lined the walls. It spilled onto the floor and ended in a waterfall of azure flowers that people crushed underfoot. A five-piece string band played on the stage. Already several people danced to the haunting music, twirling around the golden wood floor.

Willow sashayed up, flinging her hair over her shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink?” She gave Rowan a pointed look.

“I—uh…sure,” Callie said finally. “Is there soda, or something?”

Rowan smirked and let the dancers swallow him up. Across the room, he leaned against the bar and grinned at the faerie bartender. He didn’t have to get drunk to see her unglamoured. She smiled back, showing him teeth that tapered into sharp points.

“Rowan.” She shook her hair, blinked, and her eyes changed from vivid green to sunshine yellow. “I saw you with the girl.”

“Mmm?”
He said, noncommittal, leaning in close to hear her over the party.

She blinked again.
Yellow to florescent pink. “Pick your poison. I’m sure Callie will be amicable to our…selection.”

Rowan felt laughter rumble in his chest. “Just give me whatever.”

The bartender disappeared for a moment and returned with two champagne flutes, one filled with a deep blue fizzing drink that puffed violet smoke, the other was a dark shade of indigo that swirled and sparkled. She winked at Rowan, one eye teal, the other pitch black, iris-less. “Have a good time,” she cooed, trailing her tongue over the sharp daggers in her mouth.

Rowan thanked her and pushed his way to the crowd, shuddering over thoughts of the faerie’s teeth and the rending they could deliver.

When Rowan neared the group, he saw Callie fidgeting with her hands, scanning the crowd. He let himself think she was looking for him. He crept up from behind and whispered in her ear. “Looking for someone?”

She jumped and spun, nearly knocking the drinks from his hands.

“Ooh!” Willow exclaimed. “Drink the blue. It makes you—” Ash shushed her. “It’s good,” she amended.

Callie inspected the drinks, skepticism all over her face. “What is it?”

“Oblivion,” Ash said with a grin.

Rowan handed her the blue drink, giving the other to Willow, who thanked him and downed the flute in one swallow. Callie was slower, pressing the glass to her lips and inhaling before tipping it back. If it tasted strange, she didn’t comment. She took another sip of the wine and Rowan wondered how long it would take the drink to affect her.

“Shall we dance?” Ash asked, nodding to the dance floor, making Rowan regret not being the first to ask.

“Um…no.
Not really.” She took a few steps back, distancing herself from them as if she thought they might drag her on the floor against her will.

Ash frowned. “You have to dance, it’s your ceremony.”

“It’s like the law or something,” Willow chimed in, looping her arm through Ash’s. Standing side by side, their features were nearly identical, down to the way they tilted their heads and waited for Callie to answer.

“I don’t dance,” she said. “Besides,
there’s tons of people out there. No one is going to notice me standing over here, drinking my…oblivion.”

Ash and Willow shared a look.

“She says that now,” Ash said. “Dancing is like breathing around here. We dance for
everything.”

“Birth,” Willow said, “dance, death, dance, sunrise, dance, sunset, dance—”

“She gets it,” Rowan interrupted.

“The same rule applies to drinking,” Ash said. He pushed the bottom of Callie’s glass back to her lips. “Drink up, gorgeous.”

Hazel found them before anyone managed to get Callie away from the wall. “I trust you are well?” she asked, inspecting Callie with open curiosity. There was something else in her gaze that turned Rowan’s insides to stone.
Want.

Rowan had a strong urge to step between them.

Callie nodded, gaze going to Ash who’d stepped away slowly like a child trying to evade his parents. He disappeared into the churning swarm of people.

Rowan frowned—of
course they’d all abandon Callie if Hazel was involved. He moved closer to Callie and fixed his sour expression on Hazel, but she ignored him, gesturing to the mass of moving bodies.

“It pleases
Eirensae
to have our children return home. We are glad to welcome you back.” Her eyes shifted to Rowan and her mouth furrowed as though she’d been sucking a lemon. “We’ll meet with the Elders to discuss your living arrangements in the morning. Be sure to keep her safe,” she said, turning back to Callie.

Callie lifted her chin. “I think I should go home.”

Hazel laughed. It was the sound of branches scraping across a frozen lake. “Child…you
are
home.” She brushed Callie’s cheek before disappearing into the throng.

“You should mingle. Everyone’s here for you,” Rowan said after Hazel retreated.

Callie gazed at the spot where Hazel had been, her expression a mixture of worry and curiosity. “I just keep thinking I’ll wake up,” she said, bringing a hand to her face where Hazel had touched her. “This doesn’t happen. There just…there isn’t—” she broke off and tossed Rowan a glance. Her cheeks turned red.

“Welcome to the never-ending dream,” Rowan said bitterly. “Let’s dance.”

***

Everything was surreal and cloudy. It felt good to let loose and move and embrace the blankness at the edges of her mind. Her limbs felt electric against Rowan’s,
free
. His body was fluid, his motions in perfect time with the music. Callie didn’t even have to think about what would come next, everything just
flowed.
It was as though they’d bottled the pure essence of life in the drinks they kept handing her. They pulsed in her veins and rippled in her mind. She was
alive.

Callie spun away from Rowan straight into Ash’s arms. She felt him laugh and then Ash dipped her until her hair swept the floor, dropping flowers all the way. Ash danced more carefully than Rowan, each step measured and planned, but dancing with Rowan was a lot like falling, and she thought that was the best part.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

Callie looked up, blinking to clear the dizziness. She didn’t remember walking to the bar. A giggle fell from her lips before she could stop it. The woman’s hair was blue, not the crayon blue that turned green when you washed it, but iridescent blue, as though the strands
were made from tissue lamé. When she grinned, she revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth, pointed like a cat. The bartender’s eyes flashed from green to violet.

Callie pressed her fingers into her eyes. They felt numb, much like her thoughts.
There was something she was supposed to do, somewhere to be, but whenever she tried to pull up the thought, she had the strangest urge to dance. She giggled more.

A man ste
pped up to the bar. Green, spiky leaves grew from his head and hung down his shoulders like bizarre dreadlocks. He asked for a Poplar Pixie, which turned out to be a green drink with yellow chunks floating in it.

Callie covered her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She dropped her hands only to wish she hadn’t. Black antennae sprouted from a man’s forehead and ended in tiny balls. When he moved, they danced above his head like a New Year’s Eve headband.

“I’ve got it from here,” Rowan said, catching Callie around the waist as she tried to stumble away.

“She’s unwell,” the man said, concerned.

“I said
I’ve got it,”
Rowan barked. His fingers gripped her elbow in a steel vice, forcing her thoughts to clear.

“I think I’m hallucinating.” Callie leaned her weight on Rowan to stay upright, certain she was dreaming or dying. Maybe she’d already died. She thought of the pond.
Suffocating.