Calla's Story

Chapter 10

Ten

Years. I’ve spent years working toward my dream of becoming a guardian. Training in secret, saving lives the Guild never even knew were in danger, and then studying my butt off for all those exams I had to pass before anyone would allow me into fifth year. And then what happens? One moment in the wrong place at the wrong time, and everything I’ve ever wanted is about to be snatched away from me.

No. That isn’t going to happen.

I pace from one side of my living room to the other, refusing to accept that this could be the end of my guardian career. It can’t be. It won’t be. Not when I look at things logically. There are flaws in the system, but at its core, the Guild represents justice and truth. They don’t want to lock up innocent people. They want to find the real criminals. And when they question me under the influence of compulsion potion, they’ll realize I’m not a murderer.

“She’s lucky they only suspended her,” Gemma says to Perry. “They could have expelled her on the spot and taken her into custody.”

“No, she isn’t lucky,” Perry says, slapping his butterfly mask down on his lap. “This is ridiculous. They shouldn’t have even suspended her. They have no evidence against her. No reason to suspect she was the one who did it.”

“There’s that green stuff on her hand,” Gemma points out.

“Which, as Calla said, got onto her hand when she was checking to see if Saskia was still alive. Right?” Perry looks to me for confirmation.

I nod, absently rubbing my hand where the mysterious green powder was. But I didn’t touch Saskia, and I didn’t touch anything else with green powder on it, so where did it come from?

I continue my pacing as Gemma and Perry argue back and forth. After Councilor Merrydale uttered that horrible word—suspended—things happened quickly. He conjured up a bubble and placed it over my hand to prevent me from transferring the powder to anyone else. Two Guild guards took me by the arms and led me away. Minutes later I was back in the Guild heading for the healing wing. The guards deposited me in a small room, bare except for a single bed and table. I noticed chains attached to the bed, but the guards obviously didn’t consider me dangerous enough to warrant using them. They waited outside the door as a healer—dressed in full protective gear, including a transparent mask over her mouth and nose—attended to me. She pressed my hand against some kind of sticky pad to take a sample of the powder, then cleaned my skin and asked plenty of questions about Saskia’s appearance. She frowned the entire time and showed no sign of recognition at my description of the symptoms.

She left without answering any of my questions. Councilor Merrydale came in and cast a tracker spell over me, which consisted of him drawing a thick line around my ankle with his stylus and joining the two ends of the line by making a locking motion with a tiny key. A key he then hid away in a pocket while the line on my skin slowly faded. He then told me that my father and the two guards were waiting outside the room to escort me home. Gemma and Perry showed up as we were leaving, and Dad—who’s probably been wondering for years if his outcast daughter would ever make any real friends—let them come home with us.

“But they have no solid evidence!” Perry repeats.

With a sigh, Gemma says, “If you’re found at the scene of a crime, it looks suspicious. You know that. So even though the Guild has no solid evidence, they have enough reason to believe she might have been involved, so they can’t just let her go.” Gemma looks across the room at me. “No offense. I know you didn’t do it. I’m just saying I understand why the Guid has to proceed the way they’ve proceeded.”

“Yeah,” I say dully. “Because I might vanish through the faerie paths and never come back, and then a murderer will be on the loose.” I finally stop my pacing and flop into an armchair. “I suppose I should be grateful Councilor Merrydale took ‘pity’ on me, as he put it, and decided on house arrest instead of throwing me into a cell in the detainment area.”

“Yes,” Gemma says. “That is something to be grateful for.”

I stare at the ceiling and murmur, “Saskia is dead.” The words sound strange to my ears. “I didn’t like her, but I never wanted her to die. It’s so strange that she’s just … gone. I’ve become used to her constant degrading comments, and now she’ll never be there again in the training center or the dining hall or any lesson …”

Perry moves around in his seat and says, “I hope you’re not implying that you’re actually going to miss her.”

Gemma smacks him and mumbles something about being disrespectful of the dead.

“No, that’s not what I mean. It’s just strange, that’s all. A shock. Something so unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Gemma says quietly. “Do you think she just got sick somehow, or do you think someone actually … murdered her?”

“Who would do that?” Perry asks. “I mean, people might have joked about it, but who would actually go through with it?”

Suddenly, I realize why Saskia’s ring looked familiar. I sit up straight as several things click into place at once. Things that are obvious but were most likely overshadowed by shock until now. “That big ring she was wearing,” I say. “Is that the jewelry she received as a gift from her secret admirer?”

“Yes,” Gemma says. “Didn’t you see it this morning when she was showing it off to everyone? That’s why she changed her outfit at the last minute. She wanted to match the ring.”

“The ring is what made her sick. I’m almost certain of it. And it wasn’t a coincidence that I was the one who found her.” My fingers dig into the armrests as I realize the truth of what I’m about to say. “Someone set me up.”

Gemma and Perry blink at me. “Set you up?” Gemma repeats, sounding doubtful.

I quickly explain that I also received a letter from an anonymous secret admirer. A letter that told me to come to the stained glass clock at nine o’clock tonight. “Which is exactly where I found Saskia, and it was just after nine. Her secret admirer must have been the same person, and he—or she—gave Saskia a ring with some kind of disease or spell on it. I saw the exact same rings in an Underground shop run by witches. They would know dark spells to create lethal diseases, wouldn’t they?”

“Witches?” Gemma looks horrified. “There are witches in Creepy Hollow?”

“She had the ring for more than twenty-four hours,” Perry said. “Why did it take so long for her to get sick?”

“One of her friends did say that she was already starting to look green when they all arrived at the ball,” Gemma says, “but he’d put it down to the green light in the ballroom.”

“If it was the ring, then why are none of Saskia’s friends dead?” Perry asks. “I’m sure some of them touched it.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a slow-release spell and it only started affecting Saskia this evening while she was wearing it. And maybe it was specific to her, so that’s why her friends are fine. Is it possible to make a spell like that?”

“Perhaps,” Perry says, “but if I were you, I would not have touched her. What if you get sick now?”

I rub my hand against my leg. “Yeah. I’m trying not to think about that possibility.”

“If only you hadn’t followed the instructions in that letter,” Gemma says.

“I didn’t, actually. I’d forgotten all about it at that point. I was only there because I was—”

Looking for Chase.

My blood turns cold at the realization. Did Chase do this? Did he set me up somehow? And the green powder … did he put it on my hand while we were dancing?

“Gemma? Perry?” Dad says from the kitchen doorway. “It’s getting very late. Thank you for being here for Calla, but I think you need to go home now.”

Perry retrieves his butterfly mask and Gemma reaches for Rick’s jacket, which he must have wrapped around her before she left Estellyn Tower. “I’m sorry I ruined your big night with Rick,” I say to her as the three of us stand.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says, pulling the jacket on. “It wasn’t your fault. Besides, we got a few dances in before … you know.”

“I know, but if I hadn’t just been accused of murder, you and Rick might still be hanging out somewhere.”

“Maybe. Probably not, though. I don’t think either of us would be in the mood to simply hang out after something so awful just happened.”

“I guess not.”

Gemma and Perry walk to the wall, and Dad opens a doorway for them. They make a comical pair, Gemma with all her feathers and Perry with his silly butterfly wings still attached to his back. I smile as they wave goodbye and head into the faerie paths. The edges of the doorway melt back together. I lower myself into the armchair, my smile gone. Dad perches on the couch opposite me. “I left a message for Ryn, but I don’t know when he’ll see it. I don’t know all that much about Kaleidos, but it seems the only way of communicating with anyone there is the old fashioned way.”

“Well, there’s no point in sending a letter. He’ll probably be home before it gets there. Besides, it’s not like he can do anything about this.”

“No, I suppose not.” Dad hesitates, then says, “I heard what you said to your friends. Your theory about what happened. Do you really think you’ve been framed for this?”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” I rub my hands up and down my arms, feeling colder now that I’m not pacing around the room. “It makes me wonder if it will be harder to prove my innocence than I thought.”

“It will be fine, Cal. They’ll question you, you’ll tell them the truth, and they’ll know it’s the truth because of the compulsion potion.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “Guardians are the good guys, remember? They’ll get to the bottom of this.”

I try to return his smile. “I know. But in the meantime, what am I supposed to do? I can keep up with lessons if my friends tell me what work they’re doing, but I can’t train. I’m not allowed to leave the house.”

“You could paint,” Dad suggests. “You hardly do that anymore.”

I shake my head. “Painting isn’t going to help me when I get back to the Guild.”

“Neither is complaining about the training you can’t do. Painting is something you enjoy, so why not spend your free time doing it?”

I consider that, then decide it’s time to stop considering things and go to bed. “Maybe,” I say as I stand. “I’ll see if I feel inspired tomorrow.” I hug Dad goodnight, and he tells me once more that everything will be fine. But as I head for the stairs, I glance back over my shoulder; the worry on his face is unmistakeable.

With my hopes dropping lower and lower, I climb the stairs to my bedroom. It’s late and my head is starting to ache, so I don’t spend long in the bathing room pool. When I’ve washed off all my glittery makeup, I leave the pool to clean itself, dig out my favorite blue and yellow winter pajamas from the bottom of a drawer—because it really is starting to get colder—and climb into bed.

Then I lie awake thinking about the person I’ve given up trying not to think about. Did Chase kill Saskia? I don’t want to believe he could have done it, but it’s entirely possible. And why would he frame me? Is he trying to get me in trouble with the Guild before I can tell them he’s alive? Discredit me so they won’t believe anything I say?

An hour later, I’m burning with anger and no closer to falling asleep. I reach for my amber and consider sending Chase a message demanding to know if he did it. But I force myself to put the amber down. I’m not certain I want to reopen any lines of communication between us, and I doubt he still has the same amber. He probably got rid of it minutes after Vi revealed who he was, just in case someone figured out how to get past whatever anti-tracking spells were on it.

I turn over yet again, breathe in a long, calming breath, and wish for sleep to come.