Calla's Story

Chapter 10

Ten

I stumble out the other side of the faerie paths and onto the old Guild ruins along with Perry and Gemma. “Are you okay?” Gemma asks immediately.

I pull the bangle off my arm and drop it on the ground as if it burns. I raise my hands and press my fingers to my temples. “I’m … so confused.”

The drakoni club owner somehow knew I was with the Guild.

Zed seems to be a friend of his.

A piece of jewelry sent me back in time.

Dad’s involved in illegal bribery.

The artist whose house I broke into saved me, then threatened to cut off my arm.

A random guy who wants to steal the bangle—again, apparently—showed up out of nowhere.

And then a couple of trainees appeared in exactly the right place to rescue me from the whole mess.

What. The heck. Is going on?

“We heard Saskia and Blaze plotting this afternoon,” Gemma says. “That’s how we knew where you were.”

I lower my hands and look at her through the dim moonlight. “Plotting?”

“Yes. Plotting an initiation that sounded a whole lot more involved than ours was. When we were in first year, most of us found the idea of simply being Underground scary enough. Two guardians had recently been found dead down there, and the Guild never figured out what happened, so it was pretty much the most dangerous place for us to go.”

“Which is why that i***t Blaze decided we should all take a trip down there as an initiation ritual,” Perry says.

“And since he was the biggest, meanest i***t,” Gemma says, rolling her eyes, “the rest of us figured we couldn’t say no. We didn’t use the faerie paths. Blaze found one of the entrances, and we each had to go down one by one and stay there for ten minutes.”

“Well.” I cross my arms. “That sounds a whole lot simpler than what I just went through.”

“Yeah. We heard the whole ridiculous plan in the library this afternoon,” Gemma says.

Perry leans closer to me and whispers, “Guild Library,” as if sharing a secret. “Excellent spot for eavesdropping. You’ll discover this soon.”

“Yeah, so they were hoping you’d either get caught while breaking into someone’s home,” Gemma says, “or that their anonymous tip to Club Deviant’s owner would get you in trouble with him. And by ‘trouble—’” she glances at Perry “—I think they meant something a lot worse than just getting kicked out.”

I press my lips together as anger heats my blood. I’ve wound up an outcast at every school I’ve been to, but no one’s ever tried to get me killed before. What is wrong with Saskia?

“We tried to find you at the Guild after we heard everything, but you’d left already. I asked your mentor for your amber ID so I could get hold of you, but the moment I mentioned your name, she looked at me like I was a pile of goblin droppings.”

“Yeah, she’s super friendly.”

“And we couldn’t find your brother either,” Perry adds as he pushes himself up onto a wall. “So we figured the next best thing would be to try find you Underground before you got yourself into too much trouble. We wandered around Sivvyn Quarter for a while, then kept opening doorways near Club Deviant until you finally showed up.”

“Wow. You went to a lot of trouble.”

Perry shrugs and swings his long legs, kicking his heels against the wall. “The bill’s in the mail.”

“Perry!” Gemma elbows him. “Don’t be such a butt-head.”

“What?” His eyes widen in defense. “Obviously I’m joking.”

I feel the hint of a smile on my lips. “Well, thank you for pulling me out of there. I appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Gemma beams at me. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends. Right. I look down. The bangle lies on a rock beside my left foot. I can’t tell if it’s a trick of the moonlight or some kind of magic, but the green stones seem to be glowing. “Being friends would be great,” I say, “but I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Why would you be wasting our time?” Perry asks.

“It’s just … people don’t generally want to be friends with me.”

“Because …”

“They’re scared of me. And soon you will be too. You’ll hear more and more stories about me, stories that will freak you out, and you’ll decide it’s a whole lot safer not being my friend.”

“We already know about the boy and the bicycle,” Gemma says. “So what? He went crazy. Doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

“Everyone knows that story,” I say. “It got out pretty quickly. I’m referring to all the others.”

“Others?”

“Yes. There are other stories.” I fidget with the frayed edge of my makeshift shorts.

“And … are they true?” Gemma asks carefully.

I bite my lip. I can’t tell them everything, but I don’t want to lie to them either. “The truth is that I’ve never made anyone crazy. I’ve never used dark magic, and my mother isn’t an Unseelie faerie.”

“Well, that’s all we need to know then,” Perry says, clapping his hands together as if that settles the matter. “Interview over. You’ll receive a formal offer of friendship in the mail.”

Gemma rolls her eyes and pushes him off the wall.

Exhausted from projecting the detailed dragon scene, I collapse into bed late on Tuesday night—after hiding the time-travel bangle at the back of my sock drawer next to the necklace from Zed that I plan never to wear—and then proceed to oversleep the next morning. I’m lost in a deep, faraway sleep when Mom bangs on my door to ask if I’m still planning to have breakfast at the Guild. I get dressed in record time, ignore the three amber messages I received from Zed during the night, and just about run out of the faerie paths into the entrance room at the Guild. After the guard scans my pendant, I hurry toward the dining hall. I’m almost there when I realize I didn’t bring the bangle. I slow down, wondering if I should go back home and get it, but then decide not to. I haven’t figured out yet if I should take it directly to someone, or if I should return it anonymously.

My amber tingles in my back pocket as I reach the dining hall door. I thought my brief journey back in time had ruined it, but it started working again during the night. I pull it out and read the latest message from Zed.

Please let me know you’re okay. I don’t know what you’re mixed up in, but you know I’m here for you if you need my help.

With an annoyed huff, I lean against the wall outside the dining hall and quickly scribble a reply with my stylus.

What I’m mixed up in? What about what you’re mixed up in? Drinking and playing games with dangerous Underground people. Is that a recent development, or have I just never known about that side of you?

Like I never knew about your girlfriend, I add silently, a dull ache settling in my chest. I haven’t had much spare thinking time recently, but in the moments when my mind hasn’t been occupied with Guild history or potions details or fighting tactics, it’s turned—annoyingly—to Zed. I know I stand no chance with him, but I wonder if, some time in the future, he might see me differently.

Stop being an i***t. Forget him and move on.

Attempting to take my own advice, I drop my amber into my bag and walk into the noisy dining hall. It’s about half full. Most of the occupants appear to be trainees, but I spot some mentors and a few older guardians. I’m about to walk to the table where Perry, Gemma and Ned are seated, but then I spot Saskia two tables away from them. The ache of Zed-rejection morphs into the burning heat of anger. I march across the room, my fingernails pressing into my palms as I clench my fists.

Saskia takes a sip of something from a mug before noticing me. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise as she lowers the mug. “Oh, look who survived initiation.”

I’d love to slap her but I manage to hold myself back. “You nearly got me killed.”

“What? Me?” She pretends to look hurt. “I would never do anything like that.”

“I could have you expelled for what you did.”

“Oh, well, you know all about expulsion, don’t you. I guess I should be afraid.”

Angry images flicker at the edge of my mind, threatening to break free. I force them back. “When exactly do you plan to grow up, Saskia? In a year’s time we’ll all have graduated. We’ll be working here. We’ll be professionals. Are you still going to act like a five-year-old then? Are you still going to attempt to sabotage the people you’re meant to be working beside, not against?”

Saskia looks around at the other fifth-years at her table. “Not all of them. Probably just you.”

“I’m not your enemy,” I force out between my teeth. “I’m here for the same reason you are: to save people. To stop criminals. To see justice served.”

I spin around and head for Perry’s table, only realizing now how quiet the dining hall has become. Keeping my eyes on the empty space next to Gemma, I move as quickly as I can without running. I climb over the bench and sit as Perry starts clapping. “Well done. That was quite a speech. Here, have a cinnamon twist.” He removes one from Gemma’s plate and places it in front of me.

“Does Saskia really have to be so childish?” I ask. “I know she’s annoyed that I didn’t have to start in first year like everyone else, but haven’t I proved that I put in the work, even if it didn’t happen here?”

“It’s more than that,” Ned says, staring into his mug as though he finds the contents fascinating.

“More?”

“The truth is,” Perry says, “she feels threatened by you. She’s worried about her position at the top.”

“The top of what? What position?” Perry and Gemma look at me like I’m stupid. Even Ned lifts his gaze. “Oh, wait, you mean the rankings? Why in all fae would I be a threat to her?”

I receive another are-you-really-that-slow look from Perry. “You’re Ryn Larkenwood’s sister. Everyone know he’s one of the best guardians around. And not only are you related to him, but he’s been training you.”

“A month,” I say. “He trained me for a month. The rest of my training happened with—someone else.”

“Oh.” Perry shovels a fork-full of banana pancake into his mouth. “Well we could spread that bit of information around for you, if you’d like,” he says with his mouth half full. “It would definitely make you seem less threatening.”

“And it helps that you’re hanging out with us,” Gemma adds. “People don’t exactly find us intimidating.”

“Really?” I say with a straight face. “I thought Ned was terrifying when I met him yesterday.”

Ned’s cheeks turn pink, and he stares deeper into his mug. Perry laughs and points his fork at me. “See, Gemma? That’s what’s called a joke. I’m not the only one who makes them. Calla’s gonna fit right in here.” He raises his mug and taps it against my cinnamon twist. “Welcome to Club Outcast, Calla.”

“Welcome,” Gemma says, raising her smoothie glass, then sipping the brownish-green liquid. “I mean, not that you’re an outcast,” she adds after swallowing. “You definitely look like you could be one of the cool people, so I didn’t mean to imply that you’re—”

“Oh, no, I’m an outcast. Attending seven different schools by the age of fourteen will do that to a person.”

“Seven?” Gemma says, pulling her head back in surprise.

“Uh … yeah.” I guess that story hasn’t reached the Guild yet. “Um, four different junior schools, then healer school, then cooking school, then art school …” I trail off as I realize I probably shouldn’t have shared all that. Now they’ll want to know why I went to so many schools. “Anyway,” I rush on, “why do you guys qualify as outcasts?” I pick up the cinnamon twist and take a large bite before anyone can ask me a question.

“Oh, well Ned’s scared of girls,” Perry says, “and I’m a super nerd. So that counts us out of the cool crowd.”

“Thanks a lot, man,” Ned mutters.

“What? Calla’s part of our group now. She needs to know these things.”

“And what about you?” I say to Gemma, hoping to draw attention away from Ned so he can have a chance to recover from his embarrassment.

Gemma finishes the last of her smoothie and says, “My mom’s an admin and my dad’s a florist. So, you know, I don’t have the cool guardian heritage that almost everyone else here has. And I often get accused of being a halfling because apparently I’m not two-toned. Hello.” She points at her head. “Brown plus black equals two colors, and the brown matches my eyes, so I’m all faerie, thank you very much.” She hesitates, then rushes to add, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a halfling.”

Perry shakes his head, then looks at me. “My sister’s a halfling. Half-faerie, half-human. Gem likes to make fun of her.”

“I do not!”

“A halfling? Does …” I look around, then lower my voice. “Does the Guild know?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s on their registry. No point, though, since she doesn’t have any magic. She lives in the human realm with her mom. I visit her sometimes. It’s cool to hang out there with all the human tech instead of using magic all the time.”

“When he says ‘human tech,’ he means movies,” Gemma tells me. “All he ever talks about when he comes back from visits is what movies he watched.”

“Movies are amazing,” Perry says. “The fae world doesn’t know what it’s missing out on.”

The light in the dining hall dims for a moment, then brightens again. “Does that mean something?” I ask, licking cinnamon and powdered sugar off my fingers.

“Time for class,” Ned says with a sigh.

“My mentor’s taking today’s lesson,” Gemma says. She taps her tray twice with her stylus, and it vanishes. Perry and Ned do the same. “Potions are her specialty,” Gemma adds. “I think we’re doing sleeping potions today.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I say as we stand. “I know all about those.”

Perry raises an eyebrow. “Drugging your boyfriends?”

Gemma smacks his arm while I laugh. “No, my mom has sleeping issues. She’s been concocting sleeping potions for as long as I can remember. She’d flip her lid if I got a tattoo or started dating a fifty-year-old, but she’s totally fine with me learning the art of illicit potion-making in our kitchen.”

“Ah, she likes the strong stuff, does she?” Perry says, nodding as if he knows all about strong potions.

“She won’t let you get a tattoo?” Gemma asks before I can laugh at Perry. “But you were with that tattoo artist last night. I thought you guys must be friends since he was helping you fight off that other guy. Unless … was it the other way around?”

“Oh, is he a tattoo artist?” I picture the guy whose house I broke into. I wonder if the dark shapes marking his arms are his own work. “No, I don’t know him. I only met him last—”

“Excuse me.” Saskia steps in front of me. “You’ve got something that belongs to me. My tracker band.”

The tracker band hiding next to the bangle in my drawer. The tracker band I plan to burn when I get home this afternoon. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that,” I say in my best I-don’t-give-a-pixie’s-ass tone of voice. “I lost it.”