Traitor (Creepy Hollow, #3) (7 page)

“
Oh,
that
spell.” She swings her legs. “Why didn’t you say so? That was quite an easy spell, really. The one before it, where I had to summon him from wherever he was, took a while to get right. I was really proud of myself when that one finally worked.”

“What. Does. It. Do?”

“
Ooh, getting a little impatient over there, are you?”

I say nothing, imagining myself ripping her hair out.

She pouts. “You’re no fun. Fine.” She starts swinging her legs again. “It’s an observation spell.
As long as he has the eye on him he can be watched.”

“
Watched?” My stomach turns. “You’re sick. Did you have fun watching him? Watching
us
?”

“Me?” She laughs. “I’m not the one who’s been watching him.”

“Then who—”

She holds up a
hand and shakes her head. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information. But you can stop getting your panties in such a twist. My boss has the information he requires and has stopped watching . . . Nathaniel, is it?”

“So take the eye off him!”

She looks confused. “I did.
Like half an hour ago.”

“
What?”

“
Yeah, if you’d just had a little bit of patience, young guardian, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Young guardian?
Who the hell does she think she is, talking to me like that? There’s no way she’s any older than I am. I struggle against my bonds and the magic that pins me down. She watches, amused. Eventually I give up. I can’t seem to force any of my own magic out while hers is overpowering me. “What are you, anyway?” I ask. “You’re not a faerie.”

“
How very observant of you.” She smoothes her skirt out. “I’m a halfling, just like your boyfriend. Half-faerie, half-siren.” She pauses. “You do know what a siren is, don’t you?”

“Of course I know what a siren is.”

“So you know I can get your boyfriend to follow me in a heartbeat.”

“
You’re only half a siren. There’s no way your skills are that good.”

Her lips turn up in a smile that chills my blood.
“Evidently your boyfriend hasn’t told you about the time we’ve spent together recently.” She leans forward. “But I suppose he wouldn’t want to make you jealous.”

I throw all my anger into
forcing her magic off me—and finally break through. My blast of power sends her toppling off her stool. Fire blazes in my palms, eating through the vines at my wrists. A guardian knife appears in my hand. I slash at the vines around my ankles.

Scarlett is standing now, yanking the gloves off her hands. “You’re going to pay for that,” she says. She throws herself at me. I jump out of the way, grab the chair, and swing it at her. She grabs onto the chair as she goes down, pulling me with her. Rolling on top of me, she clamps her hands on either side of my face.

Something’s wrong. I can’t move. I feel as though my magic, my power, my
life
, is being sucked out of me. I feel dizzy. The room begins to grow fuzzy at the edges. “Well, I’d say this has been fun, but I’d be lying,” says Scarlett, breathing heavily. “You’re rather boring, Violet. I can’t think what Nathaniel sees in you. And now, thanks to me, he won’t have to see you ever again.”

She grips my face harder. My legs feel numb, my arms, my whole body. My heart beat slows. Colors
fade into white. The white darkens. Grey. Black

Nothing.

*

“ 
. . . you sure . . . how . . . supposed to know that? You didn’t exactly give me any details.” I blink. The room with the vines comes back into focus. Scarlett is pacing across the floor, speaking into a hand mirror. “Yes, I absolutely was about to kill her. That’s what happens when you leave me out of the loop.” The person she’s talking to says something, but I can’t make out the words. “Yes, I know who I’m talking to, but I also know you couldn’t have done any of this without me, so this
respect
thing you’re talking about should go both ways.”

I try to move my arms and legs. They seem to be working, they’re just really weak.
I feel for my magic. There’s barely a flicker. I’m not surprised; I don’t think I’ve ever felt this empty. Slowly, so I don’t attract her attention, I pull my knees closer to my chest. Then I wait. She’s still arguing with the person in her mirror, pacing between the vines and the broken pieces of chair. She’s almost close enough. Almost . . . almost . . .

I kick as hard as I can.

She screams as she goes down.
I hear a crack as her head hits the edge of the stool. The mirror shatters. I climb to my feet and run as fast as my exhausted limbs will allow. I barely hear the gate as it slams shut behind me.

Get out of here, get out of here, get out of here.

I slide my shaking hand into my boot, but before I can draw my stylus out, I hear a shout behind me.
I turn to face the voice. Damn shapeshifter. What is he still doing here? “You hurt my Scarlett?” he demands, coming toward me.

“
She tried to
kill
me!” I’m so weak, so
tired
, but I see he’s going to fight me. I reach into the air and take hold of a guardian knife in each hand. It’s all I can manage. No great displays of magic from me for at least another few hours.

I slash a clumsy X through the air and he jumps back.
He shifts, and suddenly he’s Nate. My hands shake harder. “That’s not fair.”

“
Oh, but guardian weapons are fair?” He pulls a short dagger from his boot. He lunges forward, swipes, and
steps back. Blood blooms across my forearm. I stumble backward, trying to remind myself that it’s not Nate who’s attacking me. “You’re not looking too good, Violet,” he taunts. “Did Scarlett give you a taste of her special magic?”

It was more than a taste, all right. I throw one of the knives at him. He dodges. The knife sails over his head and vanishes. He ducks down and slashes at my legs, missing by barely an inch. I kick, and my boot connects with his forehead. He sways, puts a hand against the wall for support, and grabs one of the torches. He holds it up, illuminating the gash on his head. “Why are you hurting me, Violet?” he asks. “Why? Don’t you know that I love you?”

It’s not Nate
, I tell myself.
It’s not Nate
.

He throws the torch at me. I try to dodge, but I’m too slow now. Heat scorches my arm before the torch falls to the floor. He pushes me to the ground. “How do you feel about death, Violet?” he asks. “You dish it out to your assignments. Now it’s your turn.” He sits on my chest, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. He twists my wrist and I drop the knife. It disappears. His fingers wrap around my neck. Uselessly, I try to suck air into my lungs. Bright spots of light flare in front of my eyes. My fingers grasp the empty air and close around my smallest knife. I bring it down.

He arches up in pain as the knife enters his shoulder. Gasping for breath, I push him off me. I feel the air for my dagger. I wrap both hands around it, close my eyes, and stab it into his chest. I’m so weak, it only goes in halfway. But it does the job. He looks shocked, the way I imagine the real Nate would look if I plunged a knife into his chest.

Change back
, I will him, clenching my trembling hands into fists.
Change back, change back
. But he doesn’t. He lies there. Dead. Looking like Nate.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

I throw up in the kitchen
sink when I get home. Then I lie down on the floor and consider never getting up again. Filigree doesn’t seem impressed, though. He shifts into gorilla form, carries me upstairs, and throws me, fully clothed, into my bathing room pool. A minute later, he scurries back through the door as a squirrel and drops a handful of nuts beside the pool.

I want to thank him, but I’m too tired to get the words out. I slowly peel my clothes off underwater. The ache around my neck eases, but I still feel shaky. I guess that’s what happens when your life is almost entirely drained out of you.

I wait until I’m dried, dressed, and lying on my bed before I let myself think.
I killed someone. Again. That’s two someones in two nights. I breathe deeply and tell myself to get over it. I do this all the time. It’s my job. I fight bad people. Sometimes I have to kill them.

But
I’ve never killed anyone who looks exactly like a person I care about.

That’s the big problem: I can’t get the image of a dead Nate out of my head.
I sit up. As weak as I am right now, I have to know he’s okay. I draw a doorway onto my wall and take the few steps through the faerie paths into Nate’s bedroom. He’s there. Breathing. Alive. I kneel beside the bed and lift the bottom of his T-shirt without waking him.

The eye is gone.

*

I managed to push the dead shapeshifter into the Stuff I Don’t Think About box, which meant I was able to sleep last night. And all morning.

I wake up to find two amber messages from Honey, as well as a large amount of food, probably carried into my room during the night by Filigree. Honey’s first message asks if I enjoyed my suspension so much I decided to continue it for a few days. Her second says she made some excuse for me during training.

I spend the afternoon practicing blocking the dead-Nate image out of my mind and trying to figure out if I should tell Nate about last night. Eventually I decide I probably should. Lying is bad, right? And so is hiding the truth. But I don’t have to tell him tonight. It would be selfish to spoil the special date he has planned. Next week seems good. Next week I’ll get Nate over here, and Tora, and I’ll lay everything out for both of them.

Right now, though, I have to do my very best to get excited for this date.

*

Though the weather in Creepy Hollow is perfect this evening, it’s raining again in Nate’s neighborhood. I stand at his window and watch the raindrops beat against the glass before running down in rivulets. Behind me, Nate’s bedroom door opens. I turn quickly, checking that my glamour is in place, just in case it’s one of his parents.

“Hey,” he says, then stops. “Wow. I think I’ve only ever seen you wearing black.” He walks closer. “You look even more beautiful in pink.”

As it happens, the dress I’m wearing
is
actually black. It’s the same one I wore to the Council hearing and then forgot to give back to Raven. Which was fortunate, since I couldn’t very well go on a date in my ordinary clothes. I decided, though, that something as important as a first date warranted a color change. Having never tried any magic to alter my clothes before, it took me several hours of fashion disaster before I amber-messaged Raven and asked her how to do it.

“It’s cerise, actually,” I inform him, as though I’m an expert now. “But thank you.”

“
I see you haven’t lost the boots, though.” His lips twitch as he attempts to hide a smile.

“Well, where else am I supposed to keep my stylus?”

“Uh, a handbag?”

I roll my eyes. “Can you see me using a handbag? Besides, I rather like the dress and boots combination.”

Nate
kisses my cheek. For a second, the dead-Nate image flashes across my eyes. I force it deep down, but in its place come other memories of the night before.
Someone was watching you
, I think.
Someone wanted information from you. And they got it.
Damn, I wish I knew what that information was.

“
Shall we go?” asks Nate. I blink, and this time when I push the memories away, it works. I’m going on a date. My very first date. I didn’t think I’d be able to muster much excitement after last night, so I’m surprised at the flutter in my stomach. Nate
picks up a backpack from the couch and slings it over his shoulder. “I want to try something,” he says. “Do you think if you opened a doorway to the faerie paths, I’d be able to direct them?”