A Faerie's Curse

Chapter 12

Twelve

“Oh, look who’s calling,” Angelica says. “We wondered if we might be hearing from you soon. Allow me to express my deepest condolences for your loss. Or hasn’t that happened yet?”

She knows. She knows exactly what the witches did to Victoria. “I will tear you apart,” I say between gritted teeth.

“Ah, so it has happened. And I believe you tried the tearing apart thing once already,” she adds with amusement, “and gave up to run after my son instead. How did that work out for you?”

I hate her so much I can taste it. “Did I mention what a despicable waste of magic and breath you are?”

“I believe you might have.”

“Whose life do you plan to trade next? You used your own son to get yourself out of prison, so who will it be for Amon? Who are you going to exchange for him?”

“Amon can stay right where he is.”

I shake my head. “You backstabbing b***h. He orchestrated this whole plan, and now that you’re free, you’re going to leave him to rot in prison?”

She c***s her head. “You should be glad. One less enemy running around for you to worry about.”

“Remind me to thank you when I’m finished stabbing needles beneath my fingernails.”

She laughs. “Oh, it is fun playing around with people again. One of the many advantages of being free.”

“Not for long,” I mutter.

She raises an eyebrow. “Do you plan to put me back in my cage … Calla?” She says my name as if it’s a taunt. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Come out of hiding and we can arrange that.”

“I don’t think so.” She steps away, out of view, and it’s a fair head that takes her place.

“You called?” the witch says, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. She’s the younger of the witches I met Underground. The only one I’ve had any dealings with.

“What did you do?” I demand, my fingers shaking as I grip the mirror. “What spell did you give Zed? How could you kill an innocent child like that?”

“Zed?” she asks innocently.

“You know,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice, “the one you gave the dragon disease spell to. The one who must have been very angry when he discovered you sold a cure to me.”

She waves her hand. “We sorted that one out. He came to understand why I sold you that cure. Just business, of course.”

“And then you helped him murder a child!” I yell. “You disgusting piece of filth! What spell did you give him to—”

“Don’t shout at me about things you don’t understand,” the witch snaps. “You shouldn’t be worrying about a child who’s dead. Oh no, dear golden haired girl.” Her voice turns low and threatening. “You should be worrying about yourself now.”

“You can threaten me as much as you want, but it won’t stop me from making you pay for what you’ve done.”

That lazy smile creeps onto her face once more. “You’re the only one who’s going to be paying.”

“What?”

“A little silver bird told me all about your special magic. Your Griffin Ability, as the Guild has named it.”

A chill creeps up my spine. “So? You can keep dreaming if you think you’re going to get your hands on my power.”

She chuckles. “I don’t need to dream. Not when I’ve already cast the spell that will let me take your power for myself.”

A shudder runs through me. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but I can, and I have. The curse has already been performed.”

I hate the quiver in my voice as I ask, “What—what do you mean?”

“It was quite complex. I’m rather proud of myself for having completed it.” She preens. “The effect is simple, though: the more you use your special ability, the weaker you’ll become.”

I shake my head. “That’s ridiculous. All magic replenishes itself after use.”

“Not anymore,” she whispers, stepping closer to the mirror. “You and I are linked now, and I feel it every time you use that special power. Your core magic will grow weaker and weaker over time, and in that moment when the life finally vanishes forever from your body, the only magic that remains, the only magic I care about—your Griffin Ability—will flow out of your body and into mine.”

I’m still shaking my head. “That isn’t possible. You can’t do that.”

“You know nothing about what I can and cannot do with witch magic.”

“I know that you can try to scare me with lies—which is what you’re no doubt doing right now.”

A predatory smile sits upon her lips. “You know I speak the truth. You’ve felt it already. You felt it the moment the curse was laid upon you.”

An image of my nightmare flashes across my mind. Her black eyes, her scraping fingernails. “H-how?”

She tilts her head. “Don’t you remember the blood you gave me?”

“But—but the vial broke. You can’t have used my blood.”

She laughs. “Oh, you silly girl. You think spilled blood can’t be retrieved? I don’t need it to be clean, if that’s what you’re thinking. The splinters of glass made no difference. On the contrary. They’ll probably add a nice spike of pain to the effects of the curse, a needling headache whenever you use your magic.”

I swallow. My hands are shaking properly now. How did this happen? How did this confrontation slip so quickly out of my control? It was supposed to be about Victoria—about finding out what the witch did to her and coming up with a way to make everyone involved pay—and now it’s about … a curse placed on me?

With a wordless yell, I fling the mirror across the room. It shatters into hundreds of shards, sparkling in the enchanted light. Fear and hatred war within me. I choose the hate. I hate, hate, hate that witch more than I ever believed possible.

Elizabeth rushes into the room, looking around. “What happened? Why did you break my mirror?”

I ignore her as I push myself to my feet. I shout again, tilting my head back and baring my teeth at the ceiling. My orb of light cracks apart, sending flashes of light around the room before vanishing. In the ensuing darkness, I grit my teeth and speak. “I decided long ago that I never want to kill anyone, but … that witch … I want to kill her. I want to kill her! I will search every desert in the world if I have to, and then I’ll make her suffer the way my family is suffering.”

Elizabeth takes another step into the room and folds her arms over her chest. “That’s … quite extreme.”

“Someone is dead because of her magic.”

“Oh, well of course you should kill her then.” She waves her hand at the mess of shattered glass, causing it to sweep itself up into a neat little pile. “I’m sure it will make you feel much better, and you won’t wind up regretting it in the least.”

“Don’t patronize me with your sarcasm,” I spit. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“No, but I know what Chase went through. I know what kind of person he turned into because he was bent on revenge, and I wouldn’t recommend that path to anyone.”

“This is different,” I mutter.

With a snap of her fingers, the glass shards and empty frame vanish. “You want to hurt someone who first hurt you. It isn’t different at all.”

It is, I tell myself. I’m not trying to bring the whole world to its knees just to punish someone who hurt me. I simply want anyone who’s caused me and my family any pain to pay for their crimes and to suffer as much as we’ve suffered. “Just … don’t,” I say to Elizabeth, pushing past her as I head for the door. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me. Perhaps it would if you cared a little more about Chase than you pretend to, but your words are meaningless if—”

“Don’t you dare question how much I care about him.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I say with a humorless laugh, looking over my shoulder at her. “You haven’t even offered to help with the rescue plan.”

Her eyes narrow. “What rescue plan?”

Elizabeth sweeps into Gaius’s study where he’s leaning over a drawing with Ana. “How could you not tell me?”

He looks up, startled. “Elizabeth—hi. And Calla! You’re back!” He’s about to address me further when Elizabeth smacks a fist down on his desk.

“Chase is in the clutches of the Seelie Court, and you didn’t tell me?” she demands.

Gauis’s eyes flick from me back to Elizabeth. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, you’re not the easiest person to get hold of, and we’ve been preoccupied with the rescue plans. You’ve never wanted to be part of the team anyway, so what good would it have done to inform you?”

“This is Chase we’re talking about! Of course I want to be part of any rescue plans you’re putting together!”

Ana places her hands on her hips. “You can’t just barge in here and—”

“I am part of this rescue mission. Don’t you dare leave me out of anything.”

“Well then,” Gaius says. “I suppose that’s settled. Now, Calla, I’ve been dying to know whether you were able to—”

“I didn’t. I … couldn’t. Something … Victoria …” I breathe deeply to hide the sob that rises up and shudders through my being. I push it down. Down, down, down into that hard core of hatred and guilt. “She died. During the night.”

Silence. Elizabeth looks at the floor. Ana’s face turns sympathetic. Then Gaius hurries around the desk, saying, “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.” He hugs me and rubs my back, and I wish he wouldn’t because that makes it even harder not to cry. “Your poor brother,” he murmurs. “And his wife. I can’t … I just can’t imagine.”

They hate me. They’ll never forgive me. “Can we … just … focus on getting Chase back?” My voice is weirdly high-pitched and shaky. I clear my throat.

“Yes, of course.” Gaius pats my back one last time before returning to his desk. “Right then. We need a new plan for getting to the Seelie Court.” He picks up a screwdriver and taps it against the drawing he was examining when we walked in here. “How about we find someone else who has an invitation to the princess’s party, and Calla can follow him or her on the night of the event, then come back for the rest of us once she knows where she’s going. Although …” He taps the screwdriver against his chin. “If it’s a lengthy journey, there won’t be time for that.”

“We need to know the location before then,” Ana says. “That would be cutting it way too close.”

I move to the edge of the room, trying to breathe, trying to forget, trying to focus on anything other than Victoria and Ryn and Vi.

“You must know someone, Gaius,” Elizabeth says as she sits in a chair in front of the desk and crosses one leg over the other. “You know everyone, don’t you?”

“I’m flattered you think I’m so well connected, Elizabeth, but no. I do not know every royal, noble and high society fae invited to this event.”

“Oh, what about Trian Hared, the musician?” Ana says. “Remember we got his dragon back for him when someone stole it? ’Cause he had no permit so he couldn’t get the Guild involved? He definitely counts as a celebrity, so he might have been invited.”

Gaius points the screwdriver at Ana. “He might have been.” Then he frowns. “Now that I think about it, how would the Seelie Queen ever keep her palace’s location such a secret if she holds events that so many fae who don’t live there are invited to. I wonder if perhaps none of these people actually know where they’re going. Perhaps guards are sent to guests’ homes to accompany them to the palace.”

“In which case guards are the only ones who know where it is,” Elizabeth says. “That would make more sense in terms of security.”

“Well, I’m going to speak to Trian anyway,” Ana says, walking to the door. “Hopefully he remembers me.”

“In the meantime,” Gaius continues, “we now have a drawing of what my friend remembers of the dungeons beneath the Seelie Palace. I just need to ask Chase if he can see anything from his cell so we can attempt to figure out exactly where he’s being kept.” He looks at me.

“Oh, right.” I feel in my back pocket for the telepathy ring and hand it to Gaius. I think of the way I shouted—silently—at Chase earlier, and the ache in my chest throbs more painfully. After a moment, Gaius removes the ring and leaves it on his desk. “No reply. Must be sleeping. I’ll try again later. Calla, if you need to be with your family right now, I completely understand. There’s nothing else for you to do here at the moment.”

I nod and leave the room, but I don’t head back to Creepy Hollow. I can’t face Ryn, and I know I’m the last person he wants to see. I walk downstairs, intending to go to the gym to take out my feelings on a punching bag, but I find myself continuing further down. A punching bag won’t help. A workout won’t help. No exercise can distract my mind from the ache in my chest and the guilt-beast stalking my thoughts. The only true distraction is the one thing I never want to face: my phobia.