Calla's Story

Chapter 9

Nine

The ballroom is almost full by the time I arrive at Estellyn Tower. The Guilds host their Liberation Day celebrations at different venues every year—never at a Guild; that would pose too many security issues—and this year, the Creepy Hollow Guild has hired the ballroom on the second floor of the glitzy Estellyn Tower. I remember what Olive said about there being far too much expense involved in celebrating Liberation Day, and I find I’m starting to agree with her. Or it could be the fact that I have negative associations with this place and I’d be happier if the ball were held pretty much anywhere else. Because all I can think of as I walk in here is the party I attended recently on the topmost level of this tower. The party Chase turned out to be at.

I find myself wishing, wishing with an intensity that hurts my chest that he was just a normal guy. Wishing that I could have invited him tonight, so that we might have walked in here together and admired the splendid decor and laughed at the outrageous costumes and danced until our feet hurt.

He is Draven, I remind myself. Draven. Not Chase.

I push aside my silly dreams and step into the ballroom. The decor enchantments have transformed the room into a jungle. Instead of walls, I see moss-covered trees and giant ferns and vines draped from one side of the room to the other. Mist creates a subtle haziness near the ceiling, adding to the mood along with the floating lanterns emanating yellow-green light. Musicians on a raised platform on one side of the room keep the music going, and the dance floor is already packed with couples spinning about.

People are dressed like creatures from all parts of the world, both human and fae. I run my hands self-consciously over my dress, hoping I look at least a little bit like a mermaid. That was the plan, but since I didn’t put much thought into it prior to this afternoon, it wasn’t exactly a detailed plan. My dress is a shimmering aquamarine color with a faint pattern of scales covering it, but the mermaid theme doesn’t extend much further than that. I tried to create a fishtail shape at the bottom of the dress, but it ended up being so tight I couldn’t move my legs. I also tried to create shoes that appeared to be made of water, but that proved to be far too complex as well. So in the end my dress is a simple style and my shoes are plain silver heels. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and braided it with blue-green ribbons. By that point I’d run out of time to construct a mask, so I finished off my blue eye makeup with some tiny crystals on my lashes and blue, green and purple sequins around my eyes and at the top of my cheekbones.

I look around for someone I recognize. Gemma told me she’d be late, so I don’t expect to see her here yet. Saskia is nearby, loudly showing off her new jewelry to a group of her friends. Whatever the jewelry is, I’m not close enough to see it. I get a good look at her outfit, though: a gorgeous red dress that shimmers like fiery coals, and a pair of leathery webbed wings. I think she’s meant to be a dragon.

I continue to look around, then twist my hands together as I start to feel awkward. I wonder if I should wait outside the ballroom, but then the current dance ends and Perry waltzes off the dance floor toward me. He looks ridiculous with butterfly wings protruding from his back and a mask the shape of a butterfly covering half his face. It’s definitely him, though—I can tell from his height and the green in his hair and, well, the fact that he looks absurd and proud of it. He does a twirl and a bow before reaching me, and I can’t help laughing as he straightens, takes my hand, and kisses it. “You’re making fun of this whole dress-up thing, aren’t you,” I say.

“Never,” he exclaims. “What makes you think that?”

“I wonder.” I reach up and flick his mask. “And were you dancing by yourself, or did I happen to miss your partner?”

“I was practicing,” he says, “for when the perfect partner comes along.”

“I see. Well, your outfit is extraordinary. I think you should win a prize for it.”

“Thank you.” Perry does another bow. “And may I say that you make a lovely fish, Calla.”

Indignant, I place my hands on my hips. “I’m not a fish. I’m a mermaid.”

“Oh, sorry, of course. My bad.” Perry laughs, but his smile falters as he focuses on something over my shoulder. “Is that Gemma?”

I turn and see a girl with a delicate silver filigreed mask covering the top part of her face. Her white feathered dress and the feather hair piece pinned into her dark hair make me think of a swan. The overall effect is stunning. “Yes, that is Gemma. And that—” my eyes move to the handsome guy on her arm “—is Mr. Perfect. Your competition.”

“That’s … whatever …” Perry splutters, but he pulls off his butterfly mask and stands a little straighter. Gemma and Rick walk over to us, and Gemma introduces him. She looks a little dazed, as though she’s just been handed all the riches of the Seelie Court and can’t quite believe it. Perry, on the other hand, can’t stop frowning. He greets Rick, then shoves both his hands into his pockets and remains silent. I realize it might be up to me to get the conversation going, but then Rick asks Gemma if she’d like to dance, and the two of them disappear into the crowd.

Beside me, Perry appears to deflate. I lean closer to him. “Still want to tell me it’s not obvious?”

He stares at his feet. “I suppose it is obvious. I only considered it recently, though, the night we came to that party here. I realized afterwards that of course I like her. Of course I don’t just want to be her friend. But it’s too late.” He jerks his head over his shoulder and adds, “How can I compete with that?”

“You don’t have to compete. Just be yourself and tell her how you really feel, and maybe it’ll turn out she feels the same way.”

He shrugs half-heartedly and lets out a loud sigh. He pushes his shoulders back and straightens. “Well, after rejection like that, all I have left are my dance moves. May I have this dance, Lady Calla?” He holds a hand out to me as I start laughing at him once more.

“Yes, I’d—” From the corner of my eye, I see Ryn, dressed for a regular day of work at the Guild, pushing past people and waving to me. “Um, in a minute. Looks like my brother needs me.”

“Ah, more rejection,” Perry says in anguished tones, pressing a hand dramatically against his chest. “My poor heart can barely stand it.”

“Your poor heart will be fine.” I pat his arm, give him a brief hug, and then meet Ryn near the doorway. “Hey, you’re not dressed up at all,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, but I won’t be staying long. I just needed to speak to you and a few other people before leaving.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

Ryn groans. “Vi had this fabulous idea. You know how she wants to keep working right up until the last second, and there are all these things going on at the Institute that she doesn’t want to miss out on just because she’s pregnant?”

“Yes. It seems to be the cause of every disagreement you guys have these days.”

“Right. So she suddenly came up with this plan to go to Kaleidos.”

“Kaleidos?” I absently play with the ribbons at the end of my braid. “The floating island Tilly’s from?”

“Yes. Time passes differently there, so Vi’s hoping she can get through most of her pregnancy on the island. She’s hoping that months there will only be weeks here and that she won’t miss out on too much of the real world.”

My hands fall to my sides. “That’s a terrible idea. The time difference is always changing, right? So what if it works out the other way around? Weeks there turn out to be months here? Then she’ll be missing even more than she would otherwise.”

Ryn crosses his arms. “That’s exactly what I said.”

“But she doesn’t agree with you?”

“She admits it’s not the best idea she’s ever had, but she still wants to see if it might work. We’re going just for this weekend as an experiment.”

“But what if it’s not just this weekend? What if you’re there for a weekend, but you miss out on weeks here?”

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on the time difference. Kaleidos has this system set up with people just inside the shimmer and people just outside it. They communicate every fifteen minutes or so to keep track of the time difference. That way they know when it’s changing one way or the other, or speeding up or slowing down. And the Guild knows we’re going, of course. One has to get permission to travel on and off the island.”

“Oh.” I frown. “The stories Tilly tells about her childhood make it seem as though rules like that never existed.”

“Yes, well, Tilly and her brother always managed to find their own way off the island. They didn’t exactly follow the rules.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I’m sure that’s something you can identify with.”

Ryn groans. “Yes. Unfortunately, being grown-up and on the Guild Council means I’m supposed to at least try to stick to everyone’s rules these days.” He takes a deep breath and looks around the ballroom. “Anyway, Vi wants to leave immediately, so she’s at home packing. I just came to let you and a few other people know what’s going on.”

“Okay. Well I hope you don’t lose any time over the weekend.”

“I hope so too.” He hugs me, then adds, “And if your, uh, friend tries to get hold of you, let me know. Oh, wait. Messages don’t go through the Kaleidos shimmer.” Ryn frowns and scratches his head. “Just don’t do anything silly, okay?”

I roll my eyes. “He and I were friends for weeks without your knowledge. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Ryn nods, although he doesn’t look entirely convinced. He squeezes my arm and steps past me to speak to someone else.

“Ready for that dance?” Perry asks, appearing a second later as if he’s been waiting for the moment Ryn leaves. “The next one’s about to start and it’s my favorite.”

“Ok, okay.” I needn’t have bothered replying, since Perry’s already guiding me onto the dance floor as the music changes. “This is that one where we dance in rows, right? And we keep swapping partners?”

“Yes,” Perry says, his eyes fixed on someone further down the row we’ve just joined. I follow his gaze and see Gemma. I smile to myself as I realize exactly why he’s so eager for this dance. Someone near the end of the row counts us in, and then we all start moving. I concentrate on getting the steps right. I did dancing at junior school, like everyone else—it was compulsory; part of exercise class—but I haven’t practiced much since then. I falter a few times, as do several other people, but I manage to keep up with the hand movements and the twirling and the stepping to the side and then repeating it all with the next person in line.

My second partner is someone with sweaty hands and a stiff expression. He doesn’t smile once. I’m glad to step to the side and take the gloved hands of my third partner, a man whose face is fully concealed behind a tiger’s mask. He leads well, and I find it easy to keep up with him. I twist beneath his arm, his gloved hand slides smoothly over mine, and then I step to the side once more. My fourth partner is dressed in dark clothing with a black panther mask covering his face. Warm brown eyes smile at me from behind the mask, and I can’t help smiling back.

Three more partners, and then the dance comes to an end as the music slows to something more intimate. I move quickly to the side of the room, careful not to catch anyone’s eye as I go. I don’t want to wind up in some stranger’s arms as we follow the painfully slow steps of one of the traditional faerie dances. I help myself to a glass of something from a tray as it floats past me. I sip the sweet, fizzy drink, watching couples over the rim of my glass. Gemma and Rick are staring into one another’s eyes as they keep up with the dance. Perry’s partnered up with a fourth-year girl I’ve seen in the training center a few times, but he’s looking over her shoulder, watching Gemma.

My eyes skim the crowded ballroom, looking for more people I recognize. I don’t see Olive anywhere, but I didn’t expect her to be here. I manage to pick out some of the other Guild mentors and Council members, along with most of my classmates. Saskia seems to be gone, though. Is she meeting her secret admirer in private somewhere? Which reminds me … how long will my secret admirer wait before giving up? I’m not planning on searching for that stained glass clock.

Amidst all the colorful outfits, my eyes stop on the black panther I danced briefly with just now. He’s in discussion with a woman with rabbit ears atop her head. She gestures to the panther mask with a frown. I can understand that. It’s strange talking to a person whose face you can’t see. The panther-man removes his mask, and—

My glass slips from my fingers.

Chase?

I duck my head immediately, in case he looks this way, but the sound of splintering glass was barely audible above the music. Several people nearby ask if I’m okay, but I ignore them as I hurriedly brush the broken glass beneath a table with a whispered word and a quick sweep of my hand. I walk along the edge of the room, staring across to the other side with a pounding heart. Draven, the man who destroyed Guilds and brainwashed even the strongest of guardians, is standing calmly amidst a gathering of people who are celebrating the very day they all think he died.

I danced with him. I was in his arms. Why didn’t I recognize him? How did he make his eyes look different?

He raises his gaze. I freeze. His eyes lock on mine.

It would be so easy to shout out his name right now, to reveal to everyone in this room exactly who he is. I could do it. I should do it. But something holds me back …

After an infinite moment, he breaks eye contact. He nods to the woman he was speaking to, then hurries away. I push through the crowd, rushing to catch up with him. But everyone seems determined to move as slowly as possible, and after looking away for a moment, I lose sight of him. I stand on tiptoe, scanning the ballroom, but I can’t find him. The woman he was speaking to is in the same spot, so I aim for her instead.

“Um, hi, sorry,” I say as I almost skid into her. “That man you were just talking to—the one dressed like a black panther—do you know where he went?”

She blinks at me. “What man?” She looks down at the drink in her hand as her eyebrows pull together. “Where did this come from?”

Fantastic. There’s probably a confusion potion in there. I put my hand on the woman’s shoulder and manage to force out a carefree laugh. “Oh dear. I think you may have had a little too much to drink.” Then I step past her and hurry around the room to the door. Chase must have left. He wouldn’t stay here, not when I could so easily give him away. Not when there are dozens of guardians present who could overpower him.

Or could they? Exactly how powerful is he?

I look behind me, doing one last brief search of the ballroom, before running out the door. I find the stairway and hurry down to the first floor where it’s possible to access the faerie paths. I’m probably too late by now. He’s had plenty of time to get away. The only reason he might still be here is if he wants me to find him. Part of me is hopeful as I search the lobby. The part of me that refuses to recognize what a dangerous man he is. The part of me that looks at him and still sees Chase.

That part grows a tiny bit smaller as I finally have to admit he’s nowhere to be found. I trudge back up the stairs. They don’t go any higher than the second floor, so if Chase wanted to go up instead of down, he would have had to take the elevator and pass a security scan before being allowed on any of the upper levels. I suppose he could be hiding somewhere on this floor. I pass the ballroom door and look down the carpeted passageway. A sign tells me it leads to a gym and something called the Phoenix Lounge. No one stops me, so I keep walking. I turn a corner and the passageway continues—and at the far end is a stained glass clock.

I back up. I almost turn away, but then I notice a shape on the ground beneath the clock. A strange red shape, part of it rounded and soft and part of it sticking up sharply. I raise my eyes once more; the clock tells me it’s twenty minutes past nine. I take a few tentative steps forward, reminding myself that guardians are supposed to be brave. I should be able to push down the fear crawling its way up my neck. The fear that heightens as I realize that the red at the other end of the passage looks a lot like the red of Saskia’s dress. And that Saskia wasn’t in the ballroom just now. That she had planned to meet the mysterious person who left a letter in her locker.

The moment my mind makes sense of what I’m seeing, I know it’s her. She’s lying on the floor facing away from me with one of her dragon wings poking upward, shielding the upper part of her body from view. She doesn’t move. I want to hurry over to her, but fear slows my footsteps. It almost freezes them, in fact, but I force myself to keep moving. I hear the tick of the clock and the unnatural pattern of my breaths.

But I hear nothing from Saskia.

Keeping a safe distance, I step around her. I see her hair now, and her—

I can’t help the shriek that escapes me. I clap a hand over my mouth. Saskia’s skin is a greenish hue with traces of dragon-like scales here and there. On the patches of skin where there are no scales, a fine green powder rests. Her lips are parted, and a smeared pool of vomit lies beside her face. Her hands are swollen and lumpy, pulling her skin tight around the dragon-eye ring on her right hand.

It’s rare for disease or sickness to kill a faerie, but one look at her utter stillness and her unfocused, unblinking eyes leaves me with no doubt. Saskia is dead.

A cry from the other end of the passage makes me look up. A small group of people from the ball, including one of the guards who was standing at the door, hurry toward me. To my left, where the passage continues toward the gym and the Phoenix Lounge, I notice more movement. People must have heard my scream.

“What’s going on here?” a man demands. It’s Councilor Merrydale, the very first Councilor I met at the Creepy Hollow Guild. The one who was in charge of determining all the requirements for me to become a trainee. He was always friendly to me, but he’s stern now, a frown creasing his brow as he takes in the scene. “Miss Larkenwood?” he prompts when I can’t seem to find my voice.

“I—I don’t know what happened,” I say, looking at her again, focusing on her hands and not her half-open, unseeing eyes. That ring looks so familiar. “I just found her here like this.”

Murmurs and gasps fill the passageway as the crowd grows larger. Someone starts to cry.

“Did you see who did this?” Councilor Merrydale asks.

“No, she was alone. There was no one else here.”

“What’s that on your hand?” someone says.

It takes me a moment to realize the question was directed at me. I raise both hands, twisting them this way and that. Then I see it: green powder smeared across the side of my left hand. Fear stabs at me. “I—I don’t know.” I wipe my hand against my dress, but the powder seems to have stained my skin. “It, um, must have got on my hand when I checked to see if she was alive.” I didn’t touch Saskia, though. That green powder shouldn’t be anywhere near my hand.

“You touched her?” someone says.

And then another voice, high-pitched and fearful: “You did this.”

“What?” I look around, searching for my accuser, but there are too many people now.

“You killed her,” that same voice says, wobbling and tearful. I find the owner, Lily Thistledown, a friend of Saskia’s. “We all know you never liked her. We all know the stories about strange things happening to people around you.”

“I didn’t kill her,” I protest. “I found her like this.”

But others are whispering now, and I hear the same accusation travel around the crowd.

“I didn’t do this!” I shout. I turn my gaze, desperate, to Councilor Merrydale. “I didn’t,” I repeat, shaking my head.

He glances at the crowd, then back at me. He steps forward and places a hand on my arm. “Miss Larkenwood,” he says gravely, “I’m sorry about this.” He breathes out long and slow before delivering the final blow: “You are suspended pending further investigation.”