Violet's Story: (Creepy Hollow Books 1, 2 & 3)

DESCRIPTION

Seventeen-year-old Violet Fairdale has one job: protect humans from dangerous fae. It’s a job she's good at—until the cute guy whose life she just saved follows her back into the glittering and dangerous world of magic.

Now she’s broken Guild law and risked her future as the top graduate of her class. The last thing she wants to do is spend any more time with the guy who got her into this mess, but the Guild requires that she return Nate to his home and make him forget everything he's discovered of the fae realm. Easy, right?

Not when you factor in evil faeries, long-lost family members, and inconvenient feelings of the romantic kind. Vi is about to find herself tangled up in a dangerous plot—and it’ll take all her training to get out alive.

Guild Rule No. 1:

Never bring a human into the fae realm.

Guild Rule No. 2:

Never reveal yourself to a human.

PART 1

ONE

My assignment tonight is cuter than most. Tanned skin, defined jawline, athletic sort of build. He’s asleep at his desk, his cheek stuck to the open page of a textbook. Strands of sun-bleached hair lie across his forehead, and his lips—which I may or may not have been admiring for the past half hour—are parted.

I slide off the window seat and creep across the room. It’s bigger than I first thought: with couches and a television arranged to form a separate sitting area, it’s more like a hotel suite than a regular bedroom.

Great. More places for things to hide.

I shrink into a shadowed corner and wait. For what, exactly, I’m not sure. The Seers never See more than a glimpse of what may happen. The boy’s steady breathing fills the room. A breeze lifts the curtain, and I catch the flicker of a streetlight on Draven Avenue.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe—

There she is! With a hiss, the serpent woman streaks across the room, lamplight reflecting off her scaly skin. I stretch my arms into position and feel the prickly warmth of the bow and arrow as they materialize in my hands. I pull back and let go. The arrow flies across the room in a shower of orange-gold sparks, finding its mark in the reptiscilla’s shoulder.

She cries out, stumbles, and twists in my direction. Her black eyes bore into mine. It’s happening already, she whispers.

She rips the arrow from her shoulder—a move that must have really hurt—and lunges for the boy. I toss my bow aside and dive toward him too, knocking his sleeping form to the floor. He’s awake now, which isn’t ideal, but at least he can’t see us.

I roll off him and spring to my feet, just in time for the reptiscilla to throw herself at me. We’re on the floor. She buries her fangs in my arm, but I barely register the stinging pain. I hear Tora’s voice in my head: Bend your knees, arch your back, thrust your opponent right off.

I hurl my body over and pin the reptiscilla down by her throat, my free hand already reaching into the air for another arrow. I bring it down swiftly, straight toward her heart.

But she’s gone.

Thankfully. I hate it when I have to kill them. With a heavy breath, I collapse against the nearest wall, still gripping the arrow. The cord that held my hair back has come undone, and tangles of purple and dark brown fall in my face. I push them away and begin to feel the tingling ache of the reptiscilla’s bite.

What … the hell … was that?

I raise my eyes. My assignment is looking at me.

At me!

My heart stutters. I mentally feel for my glamour, the magic that should be making me invisible right now. It’s still in place, I’m sure it is. So how can he possibly see me?

Crap. This is bad.

A few feet away from me, the boy pushes himself up into a sitting position. What just happened?

Um … Dammit, I’m going to lose so many points for this.

And what the hell is that?

I follow his gaze to the arrow in my hand. It sparkles with its own light, as though made of hundreds of tiny white-hot stars. I can see how that would look weird to a human. I let go of the arrow. It vanishes, causing the boy’s eyes to grow even wider.

Well, I should really be going. I stand, hoping my stylus is still in my boot.

Wait. He gets to his feet. "Who are you? What are you doing here? What was that … thing?"

That thing? I casually reach behind me for the wall. Oh, you know, just a product of your subconscious. And all that ice cream you ate earlier. Indigestion can make for some interesting dreams. I cringe internally. Dreams? What idiot would buy that explanation?

His eyebrows draw together. I guess that could make sense. You are way more attractive than any real-life girl who’s managed to find her way into my bedroom.

This is not happening.

I slide my hand into the top of my boot and retrieve my stylus. You need to wake up and carry on studying, I tell him. Then I turn to the wall and scribble a few words across it. The writing glows and fades, and a portion of the wall melts away like ribbon held too close to a flame. Goodbye, I call over my shoulder. I step into the yawning darkness, holding two words in my mind: Creepy Hollow.

Argh! I cry out as a hand grabs hold of my arm. The arm that’s only just begun to heal from the reptiscilla’s bite. I stumble on the invisible path, my mind loses hold of my destination, and I tumble out of the darkness and onto the forest floor. I don’t usually exit the faerie paths so clumsily, but I don’t usually have a human on top of me.

I lie there blinking as the reality of what just happened strikes me like a slap in the face.

A human.

In the fae realm.

And I’m the one who brought him here.

No no no NO.

I give him a good kick and he lands on the ground beside me with a groan. What did you do that for? I demand, jumping to my feet. You can’t follow me through! That’s not how this works.

He sits up and stares at his surroundings—the wildly tangled trees; the creeping mist; the shifting smoke-like colors in the yuro plants’ leaves—with a mixture of horror and awe on his face. That … was …

Probably the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done, I say. I doubt he’s listening though.

I think you were right about the dreaming thing, he says. There’s no way this could be real. Am I high on something?

Ugh. I clench my fists so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my skin. It’s magic, you moron.

He looks at me and frowns. There’s no such thing as magic.

Well, you probably think there’s no such thing as faeries either, and yet here I am. And here he is. In my forest. My home. I kick a flurry of leaves into the air. Their colors shift rapidly in protest, cycling through an endless palette: lavender, magenta, burgundy, sienna. I bury my face in my hands. I have so failed this assignment.

No way, he says, rustling the leaves as he stands. You can’t be a faerie. You’re way too big.

I lower my hands. Excuse me? I’ve been called many things in my seventeen years, but ‘big’ has never been one of them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Aren’t faeries supposed to be, like, really tiny? With wings and a wand and faerie dust?

I’m not Tinker Bell!

He takes a step back. Okay, okay. Since this is a dream, I guess you can be whatever you want to be.

Did it feel like a dream when I kicked you?

Actually, that did kind of hurt. He rubs his leg.

I shake my head. "This is such a mistake. You should not be here."

So you don’t have wings then? he asks.

Sure I do. They’re in my pocket.

Really?

No! I’m trying to think of the best way to fix this, and I wish he’d keep quiet.

"Oh, wait, you do have a wand though. I saw you using it on my wall."

It’s not a wand, it’s a stylus. Just a stick, really.

But it—

You know, if it weren’t my sole purpose in life to protect humans like you from crazy magical fae, I’d leave you here to find your own way home.

Is that what you were doing in my room? he asks after a moment.

I sigh. Yes. I was on assignment.

I was your assignment?

Wow, you catch on fast. Yes.

He hesitates a moment, then grins. That’s kind of hot.

Okay, listen up, Draven Avenue, I say before he can make any more inappropriate comments. I’m going to open up another path and take you back to— I stop as something occurs to me. Wait a sec. Why aren’t you dead?

Um …

"Faerie paths are for faeries. You shouldn’t survive the journey."

He stares back at me, and it’s then that I hear the footsteps. Guilt tightens my chest and sends my heart racing. I get the sudden urge to open up a doorway and push the boy into it, but I’m worried it was some strange fluke that he survived the first journey. What if a second one kills him?

A figure appears between the trees and my pounding heart sinks when I see who it is. I’m definitely not getting out of this one.

Ryn, I say, trying to keep my voice even. Back so soon? That’s unlike you. I heard you came in second to last for the assignment before this one.

Ryn stops and leans against a tree, tossing a ball of moonlight back and forth. Its glow dances across his face and causes his blue-black hair to gleam. Don’t you mean second, Pixie Sticks? I would have thought you’d pay more attention to your closest competition.

I would—if you were competition worth paying attention to.

Ryn’s eyes narrow. He opens his mouth to speak, then freezes, his eyes moving to the boy beside me. He pushes away from the tree and steps closer. "You have a friend, Pixie Sticks? he says. You’ve actually managed to find someone willing to—" He breaks off and stares at the guy for several moments. His eyes slide back to mine, and a grin spreads across his face.

He knows.

Well, well, well. Look who broke rule number one. He spins the ball of moonlight on the tip of his finger before squashing it into nothing between his palms. Tell me, Pixie Sticks. How does it feel to fail an assignment?

My mental call is automatic, and barely a second passes before my bow and arrow are blazing between my fingers. I point the arrow directly at Ryn. He flicks his wrist, almost too fast to follow. A whip with as much fiery brilliance as my own weapon appears in his hand with a snap.

Wanna play? he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

Get out of here, Ryn, I say without lowering the arrow.

Ryn laughs and winds the whip around his arm. He hesitates, as if teasing me, then tosses the whip into the air where it disappears. He pulls out his stylus and opens a doorway in the air in front of him. Show-off. It’s the one thing he can do better than I can. I have to use a solid surface to open a way to the paths. I’ll make sure Tora knows about this, he says as he steps through the doorway. You know, in case you forget to mention it to her. The air closes up behind him.

Great, great, great. I wish I were still at the age where having a tantrum would be acceptable. I’ve never known anyone to mess up an assignment this badly, and I’m pretty sure it’s not even my fault.

Pixie Sticks? asks my human companion.

I swing my arrow toward him. Don’t call me that.

He raises his hands in surrender. Sorry. I thought that was your name.

I fling my weapon into the darkness and watch it vanish. "That is definitely not my name."

Oh. He stares at me with large toffee-brown eyes, waiting, as though I’m supposed to say something now. But I am not going to be the one to make this situation any less awkward. So … he says eventually. What is your name?

Well, I’ve just about told him everything else. Why not my name? My name is Violet. Violet Fairdale.

He laughs. Right, and my name’s … He catches sight of my expression, and the smile fades from his face. Oh. You’re being serious. I thought … because of the … He waves his hand in the general direction of my head. Is he suggesting I’m crazy?

I cross my arms and turn away from him, trying to pretend he isn’t here. Ryn will definitely tell Tora about my disastrous assignment, and, knowing him, he’ll make it sound as bad as possible. I need to be the one to tell her, but I’d rather explain this in person than in a message. I glance up at the sky. It’s late, but I know Tora will be at work still. How quickly can we get there?

So did you get the purple hair and contacts to match your name?

I blink at the boy standing in front of me once again. What is he talking about?

You know, contacts? He points at his eyes, and after a few seconds I make the connection between the word ‘contacts’ and the memory I have of a girl sticking curved, gel-like shapes into her eyes. That was the assignment where I got rid of the fire-spitting lizard that found its way into some bathroom plumbing.

I narrow my eyes. Are you suggesting that something about my appearance is fake?

Well, yeah. Purple eyes and purple streaks aren’t natural.

They are where I come from.

A buzz in my pocket catches my attention. With a growing sense of dread, I reach in and slide out the rectangle of amber. Sure enough, Tora’s graceful script burns across the amber’s smooth surface.

See me. NOW.

TWO

Dammit, Ryn, I mutter. With one swipe of my hand, I clear the words from the amber and stuff it back into my pocket.

What was that? the boy asks. Did you get a message on that thing? What’s it made—

We’re leaving, I snap. Try to keep up.

Wait, he says. I turn back, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but the look on his face stills me. I know he’s around about my age, but he seems younger all of a sudden. Lost, almost. This … this is all real? he asks. I’m not actually fast asleep in my bed, dreaming some crazy dream?

For a moment my frustration dims, and I see a confused human standing in a world he was never meant to know about. I should at least try to be civil, shouldn’t I? But then I think of what I’m about to lose because of him. I could be expelled, or, at the very least, suspended. All my training could be for nothing. All the blood, the bruises, the pain. The nightmares that come after having to kill someone. I may have gone through that for nothing—all because this boy couldn’t just stay in his damn bedroom.

Yes, I say, doing my best to keep my voice free of emotion. It’s real. And you have no idea what you’ve cost me by being here. I turn away from him and climb over giant, twisting roots as I head in the direction of the Guild.

Hey, what do you mean? he asks as he catches up to me. What have I cost you?

My fingers curl automatically into fists, and I force my words out between my teeth. "I am two months away from graduation, Mr. Draven Avenue. Two months. That’s how close I am to being the best guardian the Guild has seen in years, and you may have just ruined that for me."

I hear nothing but the sound of our footsteps, and then he says, My name’s actually Nate.

Well, clearly Nate doesn’t get why I’m so upset. And why should he? He has no idea why that top place is so important to me, and I’m certainly not about to tell him. I skirt the edge of a clearing where giant mushrooms are swelling as they soak up the silvery glow of the moon. Don’t stand on the mushrooms, I tell him. They don’t like it. And the last thing I need now is for him to show up at the Guild covered in poisonous goop.

An eerie howl vibrates through the air, rustling the leaves above us and causing a nest of tiny airhorses to take flight and disappear into the night. I quicken my pace. I can handle pretty much any creature we might come across, but having Nate with me would no doubt complicate things. I glance over my shoulder at him, only to find that he’s stopped to watch the airhorses fly away. Come on, I call.

He shakes his head and hurries after me. This is incredible, he says. I know I should be freaked out or something, but … wow.

I don’t say anything.

Hey, since you’re magical and everything, are you also, you know, immortal?

I don’t know if he’s deliberately ignoring the angry vibes I’m sending his way, or if they’re simply passing right over his head. Either way, it’s getting tiring. With a sigh, I say, Faeries are not immortal. Old age catches up after several hundred years.

"Several hundred—wow. So you’re actually old even though you look my age?"

I give him a withering look. I’m seventeen.

Right. Cool.

The forest thins as we get closer to the Guild. We move faster, but every time we pass something vaguely out of the ordinary—a group of pixies climbing onto each others’ shoulders to reach a high branch; a lone faun looking a little tipsy—I sense Nate’s reluctance at having to keep moving. I know he wants to stop and stare, but I won’t keep Tora waiting any longer than necessary.

I watch for the entrance. It’s never in exactly the same place, and it would be easy to miss if I didn’t know what to look for.

There, I say, breaking the silence and pointing to a tuft of goldenrod flowers growing at the base of a tree. They glitter faintly in the darkness. I head straight for the tree and rest one hand against the smooth bark. With the other, I reach for my stylus.

You guys live in trees? Nate asks.

I don’t bother replying. I set my stylus against the tree trunk and etch a few words—in a language I know Nate can’t understand, despite the fact that he’s trying to read over my shoulder—into the bark. A brilliant gold light fills the letters and then disappears, taking the words with it.

The tree’s shape begins to change. Leaves are sucked into branches. Branches curl downward and merge into the trunk, which widens and changes color and texture. A set of double glass doors shimmer into view. Stairs push their way out from the roots. In a matter of seconds, we’re standing in front of the entrance to the Guild of Guardians.

Um … Nate says. Perhaps you could punch me now, because I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.

I roll my eyes, clutch the sleeve of his T-shirt, and pull him up the stairs. "Don’t tempt me. And aren’t you meant to pinch people who think they’re dreaming?"

The glass doors slide open to reveal the night guard, Tank, blocking the way forward. Evening, Vi, he says. Bit late, isn’t it?

I gesture to Nate. I’m in trouble.

Tank’s eyes bore into the human boy beside me. Yes. I can see that. He holds up his stylus. My fingers go to my neck and tug the chain out from beneath my shirt. I hold up my trainee pendant and Tank scans it with his stylus. He steps aside and nods toward the stairs at the other end of the foyer.

Thanks, Tank. I pull Nate across the open space. He tilts his head back to stare at the domed ceiling high above us. Clouds of purple, grey and midnight blue swirl within the dome. Protective enchantments, I tell him.

We climb the stairs to the second floor, Nate trailing his hand over the leafy vines that twist around the banisters. At this time of night there aren’t many people here—most trainees with evening assignments report to their mentors the following morning—and the only person we pass is Amon, the Guild’s head librarian.

"Are those … dwarves?" Nate twists to look over his shoulder as we pass two short figures arguing in a corner. I can’t think about answering him, though, because in about five steps we’ll reach Tora’s office door.

Anxiety chews at my insides.

We come to a stop.

I tug a strand of hair over my shoulder and wind it around and around my finger. Don’t say anything, I tell him, and then I knock.

After a second of silence that lasts about half an eternity, I hear Tora’s voice: That had better be you, Vi.

I bite my lip and push the door open. Tora sits behind her desk, scrolls of reed paper piled neatly around her. She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair, watching me. Light shifts across her youthful face as the giant glow-bug on the ceiling squirms and settles down.

It’s called rule number one for a reason, Vi, she says, nodding her head toward the two chairs in front of her desk. I move to the one on the right. After a moment’s hesitation, Nate sits down beside me. Tora doesn’t acknowledge him, holding her hand out instead for my tracker band.

I unclip the strip of leather from my wrist and push it across the table. Tora smoothes it flat beneath her forefingers and whispers something under her breath. Tiny black markings appear on the leather. Markings that tell her whatever she needs to know about the assignment I just completed.

Well, she says, leaning back, "you got rid of the reptiscilla in excellent time, but that means nothing considering you not only revealed yourself to a human, but also brought him back into our realm. And— her eyes slip from my face down to my arm —just to top it all off, you got yourself bitten."

What? A single bite costs hardly any points. I glare at the two crescent shapes of healing skin. They’re at the pale pink stage, about an hour away from being perfectly healed.

Nevertheless. You still broke the Guild’s two most important rules. This is serious, Violet. You know why we have to enforce these laws.

Yes, I say, taking a deep breath and gearing up to start reciting. Some humans are greedy, and what they want above all else is power. If humans know that magic exists, they could convince some power-hungry faerie to turn against his or her own kind, just like Lord Grundheim-something-or-other did all those centuries ago. Faeries will die; humans will die; life as we know it will cease to exist.

Exactly, Tora says, ignoring my sarcastic and overly dramatic retelling of the story we’ve all known since we were old enough to use our own magic. So I don’t understand why you would—

I didn’t.

Please, Vi, let’s not—

"I didn’t bring him back with me. He grabbed onto my arm as I entered the paths. And I did not let my glamour slip. I glance at Nate. He just seems to be able to see through it."

Tora looks at him for the first time. After about a minute of silence she purses her lips. Ryn didn’t mention that.

Well, of course he didn’t. He wasn’t there when it happened.

Tora frowns at me. You said you returned via the paths?

Yes, that’s the other thing. Shouldn’t he be dead now? A small sound escapes Nate’s lips at the word ‘dead’.

Tora runs a hand through her sleek blonde and green hair, leaning so far back in her chair that the front legs leave the floor. Interesting. I’ve heard there are some humans who can see through faerie glamours. Perhaps this ability is what allowed him to pass safely through the paths. The front legs of her chair meet the floor with a thud, and she pulls a scroll from her top drawer. Right. Well, you obviously need to take him back home, Vi, she says as she weighs down the corners of the Assignment Report with several stones and begins filling in the blank spaces. And I don’t think you should use the paths; he may not be protected a second time.

But it will take us days to return to his home on foot. I’ll miss at least one assignment.

True, Tora says, continuing to scribble across the page. And you’ll most likely fall behind in the rankings. But you’re a guardian, Vi. She signs the bottom of the page with a flourish, rolls it up, and places it in a box on her left. This life is about helping people, not scoring points on assignments.

I slump down in my chair, knowing she’s right.

She turns to Nate. I’d like you to wait outside for a minute, Mr. …

Oh, my name’s Nate, he says.

Nate. Please wait outside.

Nate pushes his chair back and stands. So—so that’s it? I discover that this magical world exists, and I just have to go home and forget about it?

Tora’s emerald eyes narrow. I believe I asked you to wait outside.

The muscles along Nate’s jaw tense, but he manages to leave the room without opening his mouth again. Tora’s face softens, and she reaches across her desk for my hand. Her fingers are warm. In nearly five years of training you’ve never done anything like this, Vi, which is why I believe you when you say what happened tonight was an accident. The Council, however … She presses her lips into a thin line. Well, there’ll be a hearing when you return—that’s protocol—and there may be some serious consequences.

Like expulsion? I ask, voicing my fear.

I doubt the Guild would go that far. They’d be stupid to kick you out.

I look down at my lap. But whatever the consequences, I’ll lose my place at the top.

You’d probably lose that anyway, just by failing this assignment and missing the next one. I try to pull my hand out of hers, but she won’t let me. Vi, she says, and waits for me to look up. You need to stop placing so much importance on the rankings. Everyone knows you’re the best trainee here, even if your name doesn’t end up on that plaque in the Hall of Honor. I force a smile onto my lips, knowing it’s what Tora wants to see. Anyway, she continues, I’ll talk to the other mentors and the Council members, and I’ll try to explain that you didn’t break the rules on purpose.

I nod and squeeze her hand, despite the fact that I don’t think she’ll have much success. Being the least experienced mentor in the Guild and still ending up with a top-of-the-class student hasn’t helped Tora win the favor of many of the older mentors.

Tora releases my hand, swivels in her seat, and opens the cabinet behind her desk. She removes a tiny glass vial and places it on the desk in front of me. Once you’ve returned the boy to his home you’ll need to give him this. It’s a potion that will erase any memory he has of magic and our world.

Seriously? It’s that easy? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Then why the heck does the Guild make such a big deal about us revealing ourselves to humans?

Because the potion doesn’t always work, Tora says, folding her hands in her lap. And the ingredients are rare and expensive.

I pick up the vial and squint at the miniature label. It says Forget. Wow. Original. I push the vial carefully into my pocket, slide my tracker band back across the desk, and stand.

And Vi? Tora adds as I reach the door. Be intelligent about it. Something tells me he won’t easily take that potion.

THREE

I close Tora’s door to find Nate sitting on the floor with a tree sprite in his hand. At the sound of my footsteps, the sprite pokes his cheek with her tiny finger and flutters away, laughing. Nate, looking somewhat disoriented, gets to his feet.

Did she do something to me? he asks, blinking his eyes several times.

She probably gave you a sleeping shot, I say. It’ll wear off in about ten seconds, considering you’re at least a hundred times bigger than her normal prey. Nate yawns and stretches his arms above his head, revealing a strip of tanned skin just above his jeans. I’m surprised by the jolt in my stomach.

Get a grip, Vi. I see bare skin all the time in training, and it’s never had any effect on me. I look away, just in time to see Ryn come out of his mentor’s office a few doors down the corridor. He saunters over, his eyes gleaming like shards of blue glass. I fold my arms across my chest, my anger returning in full force. I would have told her, you know.

But that would have been no fun for me, Pixie Sticks.

If I look at him any longer I might do something irrational, like smash his perfect teeth in. I look at Nate instead. He raises an eyebrow. Pixie Sticks? he asks.

I imagine a thick wall forming between Ryn and me. He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here. It’s Ryn’s highly mature way of insulting me, I tell Nate. Pixies are these small, annoying creatures—

Very much like Vi here. Crash, there’s goes the imaginary wall. And her legs— Ryn glances down —look just like little sticks, don’t they?

Nate looks down too. Actually, I think they’re quite attractive.

So. Not. Happening.

I grab Nate’s arm and pull him down the corridor, away from Ryn, before either of them manages to embarrass me further. "Goodnight, Oryn," I shout without looking back.

"Have fun with the human, Violet." He makes a series of kissing noises. I walk faster.

It’s not long before I feel Nate’s eyes on me. You guys dated, didn’t you?

I stumble over the stray vine that always manages to find its way down this corridor, no matter how many times someone sends it back to the main stairway. Are you insane? Not even if the continuation of our kind depended on it would I be tempted to do something so awful.

We reach the main foyer, and Tank opens the entrance for us. I jump down the stairs into the dark forest night. Nate follows. Okay, I say as I begin to walk. We can spend the rest of the night at my house and leave as soon as it gets light. It’s usually safer to travel here during the day. And I need to feed Filigree and let him know I won’t be around for a few days.

Sure. Where exactly is ‘here’ anyway?

Um … What harm can it do to tell him? We’re in a forest humans can’t get to from the outside. It’s called Creepy Hollow.

Creepy Hollow? He snorts. "Like Sleepy Hollow?"

No, like Creepy Hollow. It has nothing to do with sleeping.

Yeah, I get that. I could be mistaken, but I think he just rolled his eyes at me. What I mean is, it sounds like the legend.

"And what I mean is, I have no idea what you’re talking about." How dare he roll his eyes at me?

Never mind, he says with a sigh. Okay, so why would you want to live in a place filled with creepy things?

I’m training to be a guardian. If there were no creepy beings around, I’d have no job.

Right. It looks like Nate’s trying to work out whether that makes sense. So what constitutes creepy aside from half-naked, scaly-skinned women?

Oh, just about any kind of fae. Boggarts, goblins, spriggans, kelpies, halflings—

No way! Hobbits are real? Nate’s eyes light up.

Hobbits?

Yeah, hobbits. Halflings. Small … hairy feet … live in the Shire …

Where does he get this stuff from? Nope. Sorry. I flick a glow-bug off my shoulder. A halfling is a half-breed. Like a half-goblin, half-pixie. Or a half-faerie, half-human.

Oh. That’s not very exciting.

It is when they try to destroy the world. Nate arches a disbelieving eyebrow. Yup, I say with a nod. Halflings are unpredictable that way.

Unpredictable … Oh. My parents. They’ll worry when they find out I’m gone.

Tora will send someone to take care of that, I say. Your parents will think you’re staying with friends or something. And mind the web. I tug him sideways before he can walk straight into a nearly invisible web strung between two trees.

Thanks. He gives the poisonous strands a wide berth. So, um, will your parents mind me staying over? he asks.

I don’t have parents.

He frowns. "Wait a minute. So this really is like Peter Pan then? A baby laughs and a faerie is born?"

I roll my eyes. Is he going to take everything I say literally? "I had parents, they’re just not around anymore. They were guardians, and they were both killed on assignment. My mother died when I was three, and my father when I was fourteen."

Oh. Nate runs a hand through his hair. I’m sorry.

I shrug. All guardian children grow up knowing death is a very real possibility. That doesn’t stop it from hurting like hell when it happens, though.

So why would you want to do it? Nate asks.

Do what? Be a guardian? He nods. Hmm. This is my chance to say something noble, like how I want to save people’s lives. And that is part of it, but if I’m going to be completely honest … I love the life. I love the thrill, the risk, the energy. I love how alive I feel when I’m fighting, or even just training. It doesn’t matter what it is—weapons practice, close combat, sprinting, swinging around bars, practicing flips and somersaults—I love it all.

Nate stops walking and stares at me.

What? I ask.

You can do all that?

Well, it’s not like I just made that all up. And, like I told you before, I want to be the best.

Apparently Nate can’t think of anything to say to that, so after a few more seconds of staring, we keep walking. We should be moving faster—it isn’t good to linger outside at night—but I find that I’m not in as much of a hurry as I thought I was. In fact, I think I’m almost enjoying talking to Nate.

We come to a stream that snakes between the trees. We could jump to the other side if we had to, but the forest has created a way across: roots like gnarled fingers reach from both sides of the stream, twisting and tangling with one another, interweaving to form an uneven bridge. Wary of what may be lurking in the dark water, I grasp Nate’s hand and pull him quickly across, dropping his hand the moment we reach the other side. We continue our journey between the trees, and I wait for Nate to fill the silence between us.

It doesn’t take long. I’m also graduating school soon, he says, and hoping to do well. So I sort of understand the pressure you can be under toward the end.

Yeah, falling asleep over an algebra textbook must be really tough on you, I say, regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

Nate stops and turns to face me. Look, I know it’s my fault you’re in trouble, so perhaps you could just let me apologize and we can— He looks over my shoulder, his eyebrows pulling together. What’s—

Head throbbing … Eyelids heavy … Can’t wake up …

There’s a hard surface beneath my cheek. The forest smell is gone. I try to open my eyes, but it’s as though someone placed weights on them. My thoughts drag like leaden feet through mud. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wheels in my brain begin to turn. I recognize this feeling. It’s the same way I felt after Ryn hit me in the back with a stunner spell during training last year. I was unconscious for several hours, which was more than a little embarrassing. Worth it, though, when Ryn got suspended for two days.

I force my eyelids apart and bite down on my lip, hoping the pain will wake me. It doesn’t work as well as I need it to. I see Nate on the floor beside me. As if in slow motion, I watch his leg fly out and kick someone standing between us. There’s a grunt, people struggling, and that’s all it takes to jolt me awake. I jump to my feet. My bow and arrow appear in my hands, pointing directly at our attacker’s forehead. He pulls Nate in front of him and presses his talon-like nails against Nate’s throat.

We all freeze.

The young man is a faerie—probably the one responsible for the stunner spell. Even if I couldn’t feel the magic emanating from him, there’s the crimson that streaks through his hair and stains his eyes like fresh blood. Definitely not a human characteristic. Without lowering my weapon, I take note of my surroundings. We’re in … a cabin? A shed? Floorboards creak beneath our feet. A glass orb filled with bright white vapors swings from the ceiling, causing shadows to sway across the walls. A dusty window above the faerie’s head reveals darkness outside.

I wait for the faerie to make a move, but he simply stands there watching me, like we’re locked in a weird staring contest. Eventually I get tired of waiting. Can we hurry up and get to the part where you try to kill us? I’d like to get home soon.

He cocks his head to the side. "Why would I want to kill the boy? We only just found him. You on the other hand …"

There’ll be no killing just yet, Zell, a man behind me says. Before I can move, he snaps a piece of metal against my arm. The metal wraps itself around my wrist, above my tracker band. My bow and arrow vanish with a sizzle. I clutch my stinging wrist to my chest.

That’s right, the man says, moving into view. He has no power—definitely human—but his size is enough to fill the room. Try using magic with that thing on. He pulls Nate out of Zell’s grip and pushes him into a chair.

You don’t want me to get rid of this one, Drake? I feel Zell’s arm encircle my neck.

No, she’s a guardian, isn’t she?

A guardian trainee, Zell says. He’s obviously noticed the absence of guardian markings on my wrists.

Whatever. Maybe she knows about the other one.

Right. The guardian with the special talents. Zell grabs my wrists, pushes me onto the floor, and ties my arms to a pipe that runs along the wall above me. Special talents? Who are they talking about? I think of my own special ability and grow cold inside. I hope they don’t know what I can do.

Now, Drake says, standing in front of Nate, legs astride and hands on hips. We need to have a little chat with your mother, but she keeps refusing to see us.

Nate looks him up and down. I can’t imagine why.

The comment earns him a slap across the face. Think you’re smart? Drake growls.

Nate recovers with a shake of his head. Not really. I’m barely passing chemistry.

I’m impressed. Turns out this boy’s got more guts than I gave him credit for. Drake grabs Nate around the neck and speaks right into his face. Where. Is. Your. Mother?

Nate turns his head to the side. Look, my mom and dad are really happy together, so I think you need to back off and find yourself another—

"Not your step-mother, idiot, Drake roars. Your real mother." He shoves Nate away and crosses to the other side of the room.

If you’re talking about the woman who gave birth to me, she disappeared when I was five months old. I only have one real mother, and she’s probably at home in bed right now.

That’s very sweet, Drake says, his voice dangerously low, but not the answer I’m looking for. He nods at Zell. We’re going ahead with the original plan. He storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

What’s the original plan? Nate asks Zell.

You get to be bait, Zell says, depositing Nate on the floor and tying his wrists and ankles. We threaten to kill you, and mommy comes running. He stares at Nate, then gets down on one knee. So ordinary, he says, running a finger down Nate’s cheek. Such a pity. He gets up and goes to the door. Don’t think about squirming anywhere, Nathaniel. I’ll be right outside.

I breathe a little easier once we’re alone in the room. The first thing I do is attempt to release some magic. Nothing. Not even a spark. I try not to panic. This is all very strange, I whisper to Nate.

Tell me about it, he says. I’m starting to get that feeling again that this is a dream.

I make an irritated noise in the back of my throat. "No, Nate, this is not a dream. And it’s strange because of you."

Me? What did I do now?

I’ve been on a lot of assignments, I say, and when fae end up attacking humans it’s not usually because they plan to. Sure, you get the odd prankster fae who are intentionally trying to cause mischief, like goblins or pixies, but it’s usually some creature that ended up in the wrong place at dinner time, or accidentally wound up in a human home, got a fright, and felt the need to protect itself.

Got a fright?

Yes. Creepy creatures get scared too. Anyway, the really evil fae don’t generally go after humans—their issues are typically with other fae, and that’s a job for fully qualified guardians. But that reptiscilla definitely arrived in your room tonight with the intent to kill you, mumbling some rubbish about something ‘happening already’. And now, only a few hours later, someone else is after you.

Nate lifts his shoulders. What can I say? Everyone wants a piece of me.

This isn’t a joke, Nate. You really will be in pieces if we don’t take this seriously.

Oh, come on. These guys don’t want to kill me. They just want to use me as bait to lure my child-abandoner mother out of hiding.

I sigh. Clearly the only way we’re getting out of here is if I do something about it.

What do you think these creeps want with her anyway? Nate asks.

How should I know? It could be anything.

I guess. Well, whatever it is, I’m not interested. My mother chose to leave us, and I don’t really care what she’s got herself involved in.

Yeah, right. The guy who asked me a million questions about the magical world earlier isn’t the slightest bit curious about the woman who performed a disappearing act when he was a baby? I don’t buy that. But I have more important things to worry about right now. I lift my leg up to see if I can get my boot close enough to my hands. No good. My hands are too high up. I’m just not that flexible.

This is kind of entertaining, Nate says, watching me from the floor.

Shut up, I hiss at him, then feel guilty. I’m sorry. I lower my voice even more. I need your help.

The Great Guardian Violet needs my—

Nate.

Sorry. What do you need me to do?

I speak as quietly as I can. There’s a compartment in the sole of my right boot. Inside it is a knife.

Nate starts to wriggle across the floor toward me.

Quietly, I remind him. Don’t let them hear you.

He stops when he’s close enough to reach my foot with his hands. Okay, how do I get it—oh, never mind, got it open. The knife tumbles out onto the floor.

Quiet!

Sorry, Nate whispers. He sits up and looks at the items in his hand. Uh, why do you have a pair of earrings in your boot?

There’s the tiniest tug at my heart as I look at the arrow-shaped earrings in Nate’s palm. Oh, they were a gift from a friend.

And you keep them in your boot in case of a fashion emergency while out on assignment?

I keep them in my boot because they were the last gift he gave me before he died.

Oh. There’s enough light in the cabin for me to make out the color that fills Nate’s cheeks. Uh, I’m sorry.

I sigh. We were both still little—Reed was eleven and I was nine—but we had these great dreams about being guardians one day, fighting evil together and making the world a safer place. I can see Reed teaching me how to use a bow and arrow for the first time. I can almost smell the freshness of the earth on that spring morning. He never even got to start training, I say quietly. I know it’s silly, but I keep the earrings with me because then it sort of feels like Reed’s nearby.

Okay. Nate nods as though he understands. So why don’t you just wear them then? I’m sure they’d look prettier in your ears than in the sole of your shoe.

Now that I don’t feel like explaining. Can you put them back, please?