Shadowspell f-2 Read online

  But I am a guarded sort, and I couldn’t help remembering Ethan’s initial hesitation when I’d asked him about the girl. If he really thought what he was doing with her was so innocent, he wouldn’t have reacted like that.

  Reminding myself once again of some of Ethan’s less noble moments—like when he’d tried to seduce me with magic, and when he’d engineered for me to be attacked so he could play the knight in shining armor—I found the willpower to ignore his voice on my answering machine.

  Eventually he gave up. Or so I thought.

  Chapter Eight

  I ended up in a nasty, broody mood after talking to Ethan. I tried to get my mind off him by tooling around on the Internet. Then I tried watching TV, but I’ve never been a daytime TV fan. Then I tried reading a book.

  Nothing seemed able to distract me from my gloomy thoughts. Now more than ever, I wished I were still having my lessons with Keane. When I was sparring with him, there was no room in my brain for anything other than survival.

  Realizing I needed something that would absorb more of my mental energy than anything I’d yet tried, I decided to take one more shot at teaching myself to use magic. I had to shout down the little voice in my head that told me it was a futile effort. I’d been trying ever since the first time Dad had grounded me, and although I could now call the magic to me with relative ease, I didn’t know how to make it do anything.

  I’d really have liked to ask for help with it, but I believed Ethan was right and I was better off keeping my affinity with magic secret. According to Kimber, who’d explained the basics of magic to me before I’d had any idea I could use it myself, magic is an almost sentient force—an idea which still creeps me out—that’s native to Faerie. As far as anyone knew, the magic had always treated Faeriewalkers as human in the past, meaning Faeriewalkers couldn’t even sense the magic, much less use it. But for some reason, the magic seemed to have taken a liking to me. Something about my distinctive singing voice, with its Fae purity and its human vibrato, seemed to draw the magic in.

  A lot of people were already scared of me. Well, not of me exactly, but of what I was capable of doing. Not only could I travel freely between Faerie and the mortal world, but I—and those within my field of influence—could also carry magic into the mortal world and technology into Faerie. Grace wanted to use me to kill the Seelie Queen because with me at her side, Grace could carry a gun into Faerie and shoot the Queen.

  If everyone knew that I could call on the magic myself, some of the people who just wanted to use me might decide I was too dangerous and side with those who wanted to kill me. Which meant I couldn’t admit to anyone—not even my father—that I could sense when magic was in the air. It made my insides quiver to know that Ethan knew my secret, because I couldn’t completely trust him. And the idea that the Erlking might have guessed …

  I shook off these thoughts as best I could, then shut myself in my bedroom as far away from Finn as I could get. I didn’t know how close he’d have to be to sense the magic building, but he hadn’t come running the previous times I’d tried to gather magic, so I hoped that meant my bedroom was far enough away.

  I took a deep breath to calm myself—the idea of calling on the magic automatically kicked my pulse into overdrive—then started on the series of vocalises I used to warm up my voice before I practiced singing. (Don’t ask me why I still practiced when I didn’t have a voice teacher here in Avalon.)

  The first few times I’d tried to call the magic, it had taken me a while to manage it. I’d gone through the vocalises, then had to sing a few songs before I’d start to feel the prickle of magic on my skin. Today, it went much faster. By the time I’d finished my first set of scales, I already felt a sense of something … foreign in the room.

  I wasn’t sure at first what it was, wasn’t sure it wasn’t my imagination. But when I moved on from scales to arpeggios, the feeling intensified, and the hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention. My voice faltered, and I was a bit flat at the top of the arpeggio, but the prickling presence remained. Apparently it didn’t mind a sour note here and there.

  Hoping to build on my early success, I skipped the rest of my warm-ups and went straight on to “Brahms’ Lullaby,” one of the very first songs I’d learned when I started taking voice lessons. It was a lot simpler than the songs and arias I’d been working on when I’d run away from home, but the simplicity and familiarity made it easier for me to stay on key as the presence of magic made my concentration waver.

  The air felt thick around me, harder to breathe, and it was all I could do not to rub my arms to try to dispel the prickling sensation. It felt like little clawed mouse feet were racing back and forth across my skin, the feeling more intense than ever. Despite my usually perfect pitch, I was floundering now, my voice sometimes sharp, sometimes flat as I fought to keep myself under control.

  This was progress, I knew. The magic that surrounded me was stronger than ever before, and had come more quickly to my call. Now if only I could figure out how to make it do something. Other than make me feel like a hallucinating mental patient, that is.

  My breath came shorter in the heavy air, and I wasn’t able to sustain the long notes. My head spun, and I realized if I didn’t do something fast, I was going to hyperventilate and pass out.

  I focused my attention on the door to my bedroom. Kimber had told me that there were certain simple spells that almost all the Fae could do. One of them was locking or unlocking doors. I had nothing more than a little button lock on my bedroom door, and I concentrated on the image of that button being pressed by an invisible hand.

  The lullaby was nearing its end, and I was having to sneak a breath every few notes. I don’t even want to know what I sounded like. I’m sure it wasn’t pretty, between the sour notes and the gasps for air. It was bad enough now that even the magic seemed to be losing interest. I could feel it receding, the air becoming easier to breathe, the prickling starting to subside.

  Still, I kept staring at my door, willing it to lock itself with the power that was left in the room. But nothing happened, and moments later, when the lullaby came to an end, I was alone in my room once more.

  * * *

  I tried two more times to call the magic during the remaining days of my captivity, and the result was the same. Lots of magic in the air, and nothing to show for it. I was so frustrated I could scream.

  When Monday finally rolled around, I was so ready to escape my cave that I wished Kimber and I had scheduled our spa visit for first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, our appointment wasn’t until one o’clock, which made for what felt like the longest morning in the history of the universe.

  The Erlking was still hanging around Avalon, so I still had to take two guards with me whenever I left the safe house. I’d assumed that my second guard for this outing would be Lachlan—and that Finn would do some kind of hocus-pocus to confirm it was really him before letting me near him—but it turned out I was wrong.

  My dad showed up promptly at noon, carrying a to-go bag that smelled heavenly. He smiled at my surprise.

  “I’m sure Lachlan is a perfectly capable second guard,” he told me, “but I have the luxury of having some free time for once, so I thought I’d fill in for him. You don’t mind, do you?”

  He made the question sound casual, but there was something almost … tentative to his manner. Was he worried I’d hold a grudge over him grounding me? It was true that living with my mom had meant I’d had practically zero experience with true parental authority, but though I hadn’t exactly enjoyed being grounded, there was something so normal and ordinary about it that I found it hard to resent him. At least not for that.

  I shrugged, wondering if my gesture looked any more genuinely casual than his. “Fine with me. What have you brought?”

  Dad held up the takeout bag for display. “Lunch from Lachlan’s bakery. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a selection.”

  We were in the guardroom, and Finn was sta
tioned across the room from us—as far away as he could get, so we could have an illusion of privacy. Dad didn’t spare the Knight a glance as he gestured for me to precede him into my suite.

  I was doing my best to accept the fact that my dad was a snob. The Fae are extremely class-conscious, and even though Knights were the sword arm of Faerie, they were treated almost like servants. I doubted I’d have any luck bringing my dad’s attitude into the twenty-first century—the Fae take being set in their ways to a new level—but I couldn’t help trying.

  “Did you bring anything for Finn?” I asked my dad, standing my ground.

  Dad arched one eyebrow at me, then turned his attention to Finn. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  Finn blinked in surprise. To tell you the truth, I was kinda surprised myself. I’d been sure Dad would stick his nose in the air at my suggestion. Maybe I could bring him into the twenty-first century after all.

  “I have already eaten,” Finn said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. The color that rose to his cheeks screamed that he was lying.

  “No, you haven’t!” I said. “I’m sure Dad’s got enough food in there for three people.” I slanted a look at my dad, whose face was completely impassive. “Maybe even four, based on the size of that bag.”

  The color in Finn’s cheeks darkened, and he bowed his head slightly. “Go on and eat your lunch, Dana. I’m not hungry.”

  I shook my head, so not getting what was the matter. I looked up at my dad with narrowed eyes.

  He lifted one shoulder in a hint of a shrug. “It’s not just me.” Once again, he gestured toward the door to my suite.

  I didn’t get it right away. “What isn’t just you?” I asked as I headed toward the door.

  Dad didn’t answer, and as we walked down the fortified hallway to my suite, I started to understand. “You mean this whole classism thing you Fae have going on goes both ways.”

  Dad nodded. “Finn is a Knight, and while he may accept assignments in Avalon—and often does—he was born and raised in Faerie. He has enough experience to understand that humans have a much more egalitarian attitude than the Fae, but he himself is still Fae. He would never be comfortable sitting down to eat with me like an equal.”

  Dad made himself at home in my kitchen, putting down the bag and rummaging through my cabinets for plates. I understood what he was saying, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “I still think it’s a crappy way to treat someone who’s willing to take a bullet for me.”

  Dad turned to look at me. “Perhaps it is. But that doesn’t change the reality.” He smiled. “And just because protocol insists Finn and I not socialize doesn’t mean the same applies to you.”

  I refrained from pointing out that I didn’t care what his stupid protocol said. I wasn’t treating Finn like a piece of furniture like my dad did, and I never would.

  Dad halted his efforts to serve lunch and gave me another of those almost vulnerable looks of his.

  “I can’t help being who I am,” he said. “I know I seem terribly set in my ways, but it’s just part of being a native of Faerie. We have deeply ingrained expectations of one another. I’m truly sorry it makes you uncomfortable.”

  My dad was still pretty close to a stranger to me, but I believed he was sincere. He’d never told me how old he was, but I knew it was old old. It wasn’t fair of me to expect him to change, especially not overnight. When I’d come to Avalon to meet him, I’d had no idea what to expect. Half the time, my mom had made him out to be the devil incarnate; the other half, she’d made him sound like a candidate for sainthood. The reality was that he was somewhere in between.

  “I know, Dad,” I said. “And I’m trying my best to understand. Honest.”

  He smiled at me, and it was impossible to miss the paternal affection in his eyes. Maybe as an old Fae, he couldn’t be as demonstrative as I might like, but I knew he loved me, even having known me only a short time. All in all, he was a pretty good dad, even if there were things about him I’d have liked to change.

  * * *

  I met Kimber in the lobby of the spa. I felt weird and conspicuous walking around with both my dad and Finn acting as bodyguards. I felt even weirder walking into the spa with them.

  The lobby was every bit as girlie as I could possibly have imagined. The walls, furniture, and carpet were all in gently muted pastels, and a wall-mounted fountain filled the room with the sound of trickling water. Candles flickered from sconces on the walls, and little bowls of potpourri scented the air.

  My dad and Finn looked completely out of place, and the woman at the reception desk looked at them with wide, startled eyes. I’m sure they weren’t the only men ever to have set foot in the spa, but at the moment, it kinda felt like it.

  Kimber had gotten there before me, and she leapt to her feet as soon as I walked in, dropping the fashion magazine she’d been looking at.

  “Right on time!” she declared, looking as excited as a five-year-old at Christmas.

  Although Kimber had only just turned seventeen, she’d be starting her sophomore year of college in the fall. We hadn’t really talked about it in any detail, but I was pretty sure she had about as much experience making friends her own age as I did. Which is to say practically none at all. No wonder the two of us got along so well.

  I smiled at her enthusiasm and did my best to ignore my dad and Finn. I was more relieved than I could say that they agreed to wait for me in the lobby instead of insisting they had to loom over me while I got my nails done.

  A beautiful Fae woman (I know, redundant) escorted Kimber and me into the depths of the spa and into a private room set up with two manicure tables.

  “Go ahead and pick your colors,” the Fae woman said. “Sharon and Emily will be right with you.”

  I looked at the enormous set of shelves stacked with nail polish and was at a complete loss. Too many choices!

  I’d never had a manicure before, but I did sometimes paint my nails. However, I chose my colors mostly based on what was on sale. That wasn’t much help here. I shook my head.

  “You’re going to have to help me,” I told Kimber, hoping I didn’t sound as awkward as I suddenly felt. Maybe I didn’t belong in a classy spa any more than Finn or my dad did.

  She grinned at me, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’ll be a real hardship, but somehow I’ll manage.”

  I laughed and let some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve noticed how telling other people what to do is not your thing.”

  Kimber gave me a mock dirty look. “Here’s the perfect color for you,” she said, snatching a bottle off the topmost shelf and sticking it in my face.

  It was the most hideous shade of puke green I’d ever seen. Why they even made nail polish in that color was anyone’s guess.

  “Ha ha,” I told her, then reached for a bottle of neon orange. “How about this one for you?”

  We went back and forth for a bit, each choosing the ugliest colors available—and let me tell you, there were plenty of ugly ones to choose from—before we settled on shell pink for Kimber and a shimmery copper for me. Then the manicurists descended on us with clippers and files and cuticle-pushers, and other … stuff.

  I’d expected to have my nails filed and then painted. The rest of the ritual came as a complete surprise. I wasn’t too fond of having my cuticles pushed and nipped, so I turned to Kimber to distract myself.

  “Why did you let Ethan use your phone to call me?” I blurted, then wished my hand were free so I could smack myself in the forehead with it. I honestly hadn’t meant to sound like I was accusing her of something, but the truth is I was a bit annoyed with her for helping Ethan ambush me. However, I really wished I’d brought it up on the phone, instead of here in front of a couple of strangers.

  Kimber didn’t seem to think my timing was inappropriate, however. She wrinkled her nose and gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. He used the phone while I was in the kitchen
making tea. I heard him talking to you, but by then it was too late.”

  Kimber had tried to warn me away from Ethan from the very beginning. I should have known she hadn’t willingly helped Ethan trick me into answering the phone.

  “He wouldn’t tell me what he did to make you so mad at him,” Kimber continued.

  No, of course he wouldn’t. I looked at the two women who were busily fussing with our nails, wishing that if I’d had to bring this up, I’d done it while Kimber and I were still alone.

  “Come on,” Kimber said impatiently. “Spill.”

  Reluctantly, I told her about seeing Ethan at the party with the redhead. My cheeks heated with a blush as I spoke. I felt like such a dork for getting upset about this when Ethan and I weren’t dating.

  Kimber let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “I love my brother—most of the time—but he can be a total asshat.”

  I choked back a laugh. The woman working on Kimber’s nails smiled faintly before she got her expression under control. I reminded myself that spa staff probably got to hear a lot of girlie secrets on a regular basis. That still didn’t make me comfortable talking about it.

  “Yeah, well, that’s why I don’t want to talk to him,” I said.

  Kimber looked a little grim. “He also doesn’t give up easy.”

  I groaned. “Yeah, I kind of figured that.” He’d been lying low lately, but I didn’t expect that to last forever. I tried not to think about how he might be keeping himself entertained while I was giving him the cold shoulder, since it shouldn’t matter to me.

  “For what it’s worth,” Kimber said, dropping her voice, although it wasn’t like the manicurists couldn’t hear her, “I think he really cares about you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I can tell by the way he was practically making out with that girl on the dance floor.”

  “I doubt he’ll ever stop being a flirt, but I also doubt he’d put this much effort into talking to you if you didn’t mean something to him.”