The Elemental Trial Page 2

  I hit the callback button and tried to calm my nerves.

  “Jacq!” My mother answered on the first ring. At the sound of her voice, a lump grew in my throat.

  “Hi, Mom,” I managed, sagging down a shelf to the cold floor.

  “Rick, it’s Jacqueline! Get over here. We’re going to put you on speaker, honey, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to get a hold of the emotions threatening to crash over me. The weight of the last week—the strain of hunger and cold and lack of sleep, of danger and death. Of running for my life. Maybe this was the real reason I hadn’t called. Because some part of me had known that with them, I’d have to be real. They could spot my false bravado and determination from a mile away. And beneath that, I was tired, and sad, and scared to go back over the Hedge. I couldn’t let myself feel those things.

  I cleared my throat and cradled the phone against my shoulder, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes to hold in the tears.

  “Jacq!” My father’s voice. “My god, honey, you were magnificent out there!”

  “Really?” I asked, looking up. That’s not what I was expecting.

  “Are you kidding? We’re so proud of you!”

  “I guess I did kill that panther,” I said, a little smile creeping onto my face. “That musta looked pretty cool.”

  “The panther, what about the dragon!” my dad boomed. “Doing Montana proud!”

  At the mention of Montana, my smile dimmed. “How’s everyone doing about Genevieve?” Genevieve, the other contestant who had died, was from my same small town.

  “The town’s in mourning, the tribe especially. How tragic,” my mom said. “I know it’s selfish to say, but I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Mom continued. “Dad’s proud of all your stunts, but I’m proud of your character, sweetie. You saved Genevieve and her partner in that horrible faerie’s house, and you were going to save those idiots who blundered into the Red Cap nest. You never sacrificed your values to get ahead. Hold fast to that in this next leg. Don’t let it go.”

  “And stay away from that blond-haired jackass,” Dad added. “He’s trying to wrap you around his finger. Don’t let him play you. Us Cunninghams know better.”

  I let out a choked laugh. “Trust me, Dad, I learned that one the hard way. I won’t make that mistake again.” At the mention of Cunninghams, I knew I needed to ask about Cass. I wasn’t ready to tell them what I’d found. Not until I knew more. But maybe they could help.

  “Hey, guys, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” they chimed together. God, I missed them. I missed home and the scratchy blanket on the leather couch in front of the fireplace, and my mom’s chocolate chip cookies, and the smell of newsprint and coffee in the kitchen in the morning. Why had I not been home to visit lately?

  “Remember that old book they found in Cass’s room? The leather one with the symbol on the cover? That the ICCF took?”

  Silence. “Yes,” my mother finally said, the cheer drained from her voice. “Why do you ask?”

  “Being here…it’s just bringing up a lot of stuff. I thought I saw the same book. I just wanted to know.”

  “It was called A Disunion of Worlds,” Dad said. “Not that they’d let us even get a glimpse at it, the bastards. I’ve never been able to find a copy. Maybe you can find it over there.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take a look.”

  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, sweetie,” Mom said, ever the practical one. “We did a lot of searching after she was gone.” She hesitated. “We didn’t want to get ahead of ourselves, so we didn’t tell you about much. But…the trail was cold, honey. I don’t think we’ll ever see Cassandra again.”

  I had resigned myself to the same fate, but it still hurt to hear it coming from them. Parents aren’t ever supposed to give up on their child, are they? But I understood. They had to find some way to live on.

  Dad’s voice went gruff. “Now you be careful out there. Play smart. Stick with Orin, it seems like you two have a good partnership going. Keep your head in the game. We’re not going to let those faerie bastards take another daughter from us.”

  “Oh, Rick,” my mom chided softly.

  “They won’t. I’ll be careful. I plan to win this thing.” I felt my resolve hardening within me, my doubts and exhaustion draining away. I wouldn’t tell them about my hopes, or the boon—not until I had Cass back. The two of us would come walking up the driveway, and it would be the four of us again. I would bring her back to them. If it was the last damn thing I did.

  “If anyone can do it, you can,” Mom said.

  “That means a lot,” I said. “All right, I gotta go. I plan on eating and sleeping as much as I can before we go back in there.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I hit the red button, cradling my phone to my chest. I had been dreading calling my parents, worrying it would drain my energy and fill me with guilt. Instead, it had buoyed me—given me new purpose. I would do this. I would go in there, kick some faerie ass, and win this thing.

  I pushed to my feet, brushing the dust from my leggings. I opened the door, emerging from the pantry into the dark hallway. I shut the door quietly and started heading back when I heard a floorboard squeak behind me.

  That was when someone threw a black hood over my head.

  3

  The thick material of the hood darkened the world and muffled all sound. A pair of beefy arms surrounded me, pulling me backward and off my feet. I thrashed in my attacker’s arms, my legs flailing uselessly. As my breath came in hot bursts in the hood, I realized I was giving in to panic. As part of my personal quest to make myself stuntwoman ready, I’d taken a couple of self-defense classes at the studio where I did my martial arts boot camp class. Blind panic would not serve you well in a situation like this.

  Screaming was my first option, but whoever had me held his...or her hand clamped over my mouth, not only making it impossible to scream, but also making it hard to breathe. Going limp, I let them pull me a few feet while I tried to calm my nervous system enough to decide what to do. Now that they were carrying my full weight, I’d made it difficult for them. Good. It would make it easier for me to escape if they were already struggling.

  The person carrying me was strong enough to hold me with one arm, but I could tell they were having difficulty moving me. The way I saw it, I had two choices. Either continue doing what I was doing and hope they got tired or bored, or be more proactive and fight. In the end, it was no decision at all. The bodies of Genevieve and Zee flashed through my mind. They’d ended up dead. Someone out there was not against murdering contestants for their own gain.

  Remembering my training, I took stock of where my attacker’s arms were. One was under my arms, wrapped around my chest trying to both lift and drag me. The other was clamped down on my mouth to keep me silent. Whoever held me was strong, but they’d obviously never attended a self-defense class put on by Master Ishiro. If they had, they would have known how easy it would be to push my arm under his and pull it outward—which is exactly what I did. With my other arm, I punched back, aiming behind my head as hard as I could, hoping to hit the nose.

  I certainly made contact with something hard. I heard an oof before my attacker let go of me completely. I fell to the floor, the hood still on my head and I kicked out. My boots hit against my attacker’s leg as he or she took off. I ripped the hood from my head, gasping in the clean, cool air. My attacker was already gone. Pulling myself to my feet, I took a look around. I’d been pulled into the Hennington House kitchens. The hood in my hand was not a hood at all, but a sack that had once been filled with rice.

  The lights flickered on, making my heart leap in my chest. Someone stepped through the door, and I almost took his head off with a karate chop before realizing it was just a waiter. I don’t know who was more startled, him or me. My breath was ragged in my chest, but it looked like I’d terrified the kid—he couldn’t have be
en older than eighteen.

  “I just came to start prep for lunch,” he said, his hands up like I was about to rob him. He was probably wondering why there was a crazed woman in his kitchen poised to strike.

  I softened my stance and tried to smile. “I’m sorry if I startled you. I ...” I didn’t want to tell him the truth. Not only couldn’t I trust anyone in the race, I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone in this house either. He looked like a waiter barely out of puberty, but for all I knew, he was a reporter in disguise or he was working for the Brotherhood, whatever the hell that was. “I don’t suppose you saw anyone leave the kitchen just before you came in, did you?”

  “Someone bumped into me in the corridor outside, but I didn’t see who.”

  How was it possible he didn’t see? “Was it a man or a woman?”

  The kid shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Really? “Were the lights off out there too?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “I had my mind on other things, okay?” That’s when I noticed the smartphone in his hand. When he saw me looking, he went bright red and slid it in his back pocket, but not before I saw who was pulled up on his screen. It was Molly. So the waiter had a crush on Molly, and I’d wasted my time trying to get information out of him, when I could have been out in the corridor chasing my attacker. It was too late now. Whoever it was, was long gone.

  I thanked the kid and headed out into the corridor. As expected, it was empty.

  The faint chatter of other contestants echoed through the lower floor of the house, but there was only one person I needed to talk to. Orin. I couldn’t help my surprise at my realization that he was the first and only person I wanted to tell what just happened. Somewhere along the line, I’d not only come to trust him, but I’d also come to think of him as a friend. How weird my life had turned out. I would have stayed the hell away from someone like Orin back in L.A. But I wasn’t in L.A. anymore, was I. I was in a grand house in Wales where someone wanted to kidnap or kill me...and I had no flipping idea who.

  As I knocked on his door, a flutter of nerves tremored in my stomach. My heart was still pumping a mile a minute. I tried to tell myself it was the aftermath of the attack—my fight or flight hormones were still going at full pelt. But part of me knew it wasn’t just that. Turning to Orin rather than one of the producers or even Gabe meant that it was us against them—and I didn’t just mean the other contestants. I meant everyone. It scared me that there was only one person I could truly trust, and that was Orin. Okay, there was Ben, too, but he was part of the show. He worked for them, and he’d already said they were paying him well. I knew he liked me, but I wasn’t sure I was worth losing a nice big fat salary for.

  Orin and I were on the same playing field with the same goals. All the same, it was unsettling to admit it to myself. That I needed him. I turned around, suddenly wanting to flee to my own room with the door locked. I shouldn’t be here.

  Then Orin’s door opened.

  His ebony hair was mussed, and his chiseled face held a look of concern. Just the sight of him soothed me. “What happened?” he asked, taking in my pinched expression. He grabbed my arm, pulling me into his room before checking the hallway behind me to make sure I was alone. He closed the door behind me and turned the key in the lock.

  “No reporters followed me if you’re worried that the public might think we’re having a torrid affair,” I tried to joke.

  “I’m actually more concerned about why you have blood all over your face. Sit on the bed. I’ll get a cloth.”

  As he left the room to go into the en-suite bathroom, I checked out my face in the mirror. He was right. My upper lip was covered in blood. The attacker must have bloodied my nose as he clamped his hand over my mouth, and the movement of me trying to escape had smeared it all over my face.

  No wonder the waiter guy had looked so startled at my appearance. I was disheveled, covered in blood, and wore a crazed expression that hadn’t quite managed to go away. In short, I was a complete mess. Almost like being back in Faerwild.

  Orin came back and pointed at the bed. “I said, sit. I’m going to clean you up, and then, you are going to tell me what happened.”

  Obediently, I headed to his bed and sat on it.

  He wiped my face gently. The cloth was warm, but it was nothing to how it felt being looked after so intently. I’d been independent for so long that I’d forgotten how nice it felt to be fussed over.

  “Please, tell me Tristam didn’t decide to take a revenge swing at you.”

  I shook my head. The urge to cry threatened to overwhelm me, and I fought against it. I wasn’t ready to cry in front of him.

  “Who did this?”

  Taking a deep breath, I shook my head again. “I don’t know. I was hiding in the pantry and...”

  “Hold up. Why were you hiding in the pantry?”

  Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I showed it to him. It was easier than trying to articulate any words. My nerves were more frayed than I thought they were.

  “You wanted somewhere quiet to call your parents?” Orin guessed correctly.

  “The pantry was the only place I could find that wasn’t filled with contestants or cameras. When I came out into the hallway, the lights were off. Someone put a bag over my head and tried to take me somewhere.”

  Orin’s eyebrows knitted together. “Where?”

  I hissed as his ministrations touched my sensitive nose. “I don’t know. I got away. I didn’t see who it was. I didn’t know what to do so I came up here to you.”

  He drew me into a hug. I stiffened for a moment in surprise; it was so un-Orin-like a gesture. But then I breathed in his herbal scent of sage and mint, melting into him. It felt safe. It had been a long time since I felt safe.

  “I bet it was that bastard Tristam!” he said through gritted teeth. “He’s a grade A asshole.”

  “He’s also the heir to the faerie throne,” I replied. “Don’t you think kidnapping is a little… beneath him?”

  “Like giving people cursed necklaces or stealing horses?”

  I pulled out of the hug and felt immediately colder. “Point taken. I guess it could have been him. Molly and Ario were nearby. They knew I was looking for somewhere quiet. It probably wasn’t Molly because the person who took me felt bigger. It could have been Ario, I guess. Or Phillip. But what I don’t get is why?”

  Orin stood, scratching his chin. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. I watched him surreptitiously as he paced the room. The memory of when I first saw him washed over me. Standing in the warehouse on the studio lot—looking like some dark avenging angel. Too beautiful to be anything but cruel. He hadn’t done much to make me revise my assessment through our month of training—but the first trial had changed things between us. Irrevocably.

  Now, when I looked at him, brooding away, everything was different. His appearance hadn’t changed—he had the same jet black eyes and too-pale skin, the ethereal beauty about him that was mesmerizing. But I saw more now—his quiet intensity that made you want to dig deeper—to find the hidden depths that were clearly there. His stand-offish persona was a mask to keep the world away. But somehow, I’d been allowed in.

  Orin turned to me, and I startled, looking away hastily. “I’m not sure what their aim was. Maybe they see you as a threat and would rather take you out quietly than face you on the racecourse. It could be any of them,” Orin said. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. No one in this whole race is to be trusted. There’s too much at stake.”

  “You trust me, though, right?” I asked softly.

  “Right now, you are the only person I can trust, and I’m not about to let anyone hurt you again. Tonight you’re sleeping here with me.”

  I opened my mouth in shock at his words before he continued hastily. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You can have my bed.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved.

  At least, he trusted me. That was something. I trusted him, too, and
it was about time I told him the full truth. He needed to know about Cass’s letter. Then if anything did happen to me, he could mail it to my parents. They said the trail was cold, but they were wrong. I also needed to tell him about the book, A Disunion of Worlds, my father had said it was called. I’d never heard of it, but maybe Orin had. Either way, I was going to need his help.

  “Why don’t you come with me? There’s something I need to show you.”

  4

  Orin followed me back to my room. I tried to ignore the flush on my cheeks as we passed a cameraman in the hallway, who turned around to follow us. I hated this place. I hated my every move being watched and analyzed. No wonder reality stars were so neurotic. It wasn’t natural, to be watched like an animal in the zoo.

  We pushed into my room and I slammed the door in the camera guy’s face, all too aware of how this must look. I sagged against the door and turned to Orin, who wore a half-smile on his face. “You know how that’s going to look, right?”

  “Yes,” I hissed as I crossed to my bed to retrieve Cass’s letter. “Better than the alternative, that they realize we’re on to them.” I paused, my stomach dipping as a thought hit me. “Unless you have, like, a girlfriend back in Faerwild who would be pissed…” Orin had never mentioned a girlfriend, but I guess we hadn’t had a ton of time to actually talk about what our lives were like before the FFR started.

  The grin widened, and his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. “Are you asking me if I have a girlfriend?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t care,” I muttered, feeling around beneath my mattress for where I had stashed the letter. Where was it?

  “No, I do not have a girlfriend. And—” he paused. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  I heaved the mattress up, exposing the box spring beneath. The letter was nowhere to be found. It was gone.

  “Those bastards!” I let the mattress drop with a thump, shoving to my feet. I whirled around, examining the corners of my room, the lights. They had to have a camera in here! That was the only way they could have known I had the letter and where I hid it. Where the hell was it?