The Faerie Guardian

Chapter Seventeen

“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?”

“Well . . .” It seems doubtful to me.

“I know you said I don’t have any magic, but there must be something in me that helps me survive the faerie paths. So I thought . . . perhaps . . . I could also direct them.”

“I suppose there’s no harm in trying.” I open a doorway on the wall beside the window. I close my eyes as we step inside, and keep my mind blank so that Nate can attempt to direct us. His fingers wrap around mine.

I wait.

My ears fill with the sound of roaring, and a cold breeze whispers across my skin. I open my eyes—and get as much of a shock as Nate must have got when I took him to the forest last night. We’re standing near an outcrop of rocks on the side of a mountain. The ground falls away sharply to my left, and when I look down, I see a waterfall gushing out of a hole somewhere below me. I can feel the spray on my face. Grey clouds hang low and heavy around us, lit up by the occasional flash of lightning. The effect is dramatic.

“You did it!” I shout above the thunder of the water.

He nods, laughing. “Come inside before it starts raining.” He pulls me toward the rocks.

“Inside?” We step carefully around the side of one of the rocks. Behind it is a gap, like a tear in the side of the mountain. Nate swings his backpack around and pulls out a torch. He clicks it on, takes hold of my hand again, and enters the cave. It’s cold inside, but eerily beautiful. Where the torchlight strikes the cave walls, tiny gold sparkles reflect back at us.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Some kind of mineral, I think,” says Nate, “buried in the rock.”

It makes me think of magic. “How do you know about this place, Nate?”

He pulls me further along. “I’ll tell you in a bit. We need to get right to the back, where it’s warmer.”

The sound of trickling water reaches my ears, and Nate swings the torch around until he finds the source. It’s a stream, bubbling up at the edge of the cave, and then disappearing down into the rock again, probably to join the giant waterfall outside.

“You could catch a quick ride out of here if you jumped down there,” says Nate.

“Thanks, but I’ve had enough adrenalin rushes lately.” I follow close behind him, lowering my head where the cave ceiling dips down. It rises again, but now the walls are closer together, narrowing into a tunnel that reminds me far too much of the labyrinth. “Are we almost there?” I ask.

“Just be patient,” says Nate. He lets go of my hand and walks faster. I hurry after him, but slow down when I realize he probably wants a minute or two to set up . . . whatever one sets up on a date inside a cave.

I run my fingers along the wall. It isn’t smooth like the stone walls in the labyrinth, or sandy like the tunnel I was in last night, but rough with jagged, sticking-out edges. Nate’s light grows dimmer until I find myself walking in complete darkness. I consider conjuring up my own light, but decide the darkness makes this all the more exciting. I stretch my arms out to either side and touch the walls to keep from walking into them. Eventually, the darkness begins to lessen.

“Nate?” I call.

His shout echoes down the tunnel: “Keep coming.”

The tunnel opens into another cave. A shaft of grey light spills down from a hole in the ceiling, dust motes dancing in its path. On the far side of the cave, I see the shadowy shape of Nate.

“Is this it?” I ask. “Is this your surprise location?”

“Oh, it’s a surprise all right,” says a voice behind me. I whirl around. “Well done, Nathaniel,” says Zell. “Well done, indeed.”