The Elemental Trial Page 3

  I was spinning around like a top and Orin stepped in, grabbing my shoulders gently. “Jacq.” He was so close I could see the delicate fringe of his eyelashes. “Take a breath. What’s going on?”

  I looked up, biting my lip. I pulled Orin into a hug, wrapping my arms around him. He stiffened in surprise, but then melted into me, his arms wrapping around my back in a way that was far too pleasant for my mind to function clearly. “There’s a camera in here,” I whispered into his ear. “We’re being watched. I need to tell you something alone. We have to get out of here. Will you come with me?”

  Orin nodded curtly into my neck, his nose brushing the delicate skin there. I shivered and pulled back. No time for thinking about how alive my body felt right now. We had to focus on getting to a place where I could fill Orin in without the producers overhearing. “Let’s go.”

  We hurried through the house into the garden. The weather was cold and blustery, as per usual for Wales, and I zipped my FFR jacket up all the way beneath my chin.

  “The gardens are impenetrable,” Orin said. “We can’t get out this way.”

  “Niall got in somehow,” I said. “Before the race started. I think there’s a secret gate.”

  We reached the spot behind a tall hedge where I had seen Patricia and Niall whispering. “It must be around here somewhere.”

  “There are no cameras here, Jacq. Isn’t this good enough? You can tell me here,” Orin said.

  I shook my head. I didn’t trust this place anymore. I needed to be out—away. “I just need to get away for a few hours,” I pleaded. “Before we go back in there and our every move is recorded and scrutinized. Please?”

  Orin sighed but nodded.

  The Harrington House grounds were bordered by a tall stone wall covered in ivy. I felt along it, looking for hidden doorknobs or seams. From Orin’s long-suffering sigh behind me, I could tell he didn’t think I would find it. “You could help you know, instead of just standing there like Judgy McJudgerson,” I shot over my shoulder.

  “Who?” Orin asked as he moved next to me along the wall.

  “Never mind.” I looked down the stretch of wall, despairing. I’m sure the door was well hidden. We might never find it. Down the grassy lawn, a little cottontail rabbit hopped through the row into the interior of the grounds. And I got an idea.

  I closed my eyes, summoning my magic earth bunny. It came easily, as we’d been spending more time together. I guess Orin was right—magic was like a needy friend who wanted you to hang out with them all the time. I nudged the bunny toward the wall. Find me the opening, I thought.

  I felt the tendril of my magic snake out, feeling and probing along the craggy stones and ancient mortar. Then I felt it siphon through the wall. I gasped, running to the spot. “Thank you,” I whispered to the magic. I pulled back a few vines of ivy and found the ancient latch—together with our door to freedom.

  “How did you do that?” Orin asked as we stepped through into the fresh air of freedom. It was as if the sky was brighter on this side, the birdsong more vibrant.

  “Magic,” I said sagely, breaking into a grin.

  “Seriously?” he asked as he trotted after me.

  “A little bunny told me where to look.” Ah, this was good fun, confounding Orin.

  His eyes widened as he took in my meaning. “You really used your magic? And…the trick I taught you?”

  “I’ve been practicing.”

  “Good girl,” he nodded, impressed. His approval pleased me more than it should have.

  Orin and I cut across a verdant green field towards a little dot on my phone that professed to be the White Swan Pub. It was only 10 a.m., and the bars in America certainly would not be open, but this was the United Kingdom, where Guinness was officially a breakfast food.

  I was giddy with the excitement of our clandestine getaway by the time we scrambled over another stone fence and into the picture postcard village that held the pub. I took it all in with interest, the tidy cobblestone lanes and the neat brick houses with windowsill flower boxes full of riotous blooms. A red telephone booth stood proudly on the sidewalk, and I burst into a run, pushing into it, turning to Orin with bright eyes. “How do I look?”

  “Like a human in a box designed for an obsolete technology,” he said, crossing his arms.

  I huffed, emerging. “These are iconic. They could never be obsolete.” I stroked the bright red booth for a moment. “I’ve never been to England before. Or Wales,” I admitted as we headed the two blocks to the pub. “I wish I had some time to travel around.”

  “With a million dollars, I’m sure you can make some travel plans,” Orin replied.

  The White Swan was everything I imagined a Welsh pub would be. Ancient, wood-paneled walls were plastered with pennants for various soccer (ahem, I mean football) teams, and on the rickety barstools sat a smattering of curmudgeonly patrons who looked like they were regular fixtures. The bartender, a ruddy fellow with muttonchops, raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw Orin and me, but blessedly, said nothing except, “What can I get'cha?”

  Orin ordered a lager, and I ordered a cider, enjoying the experience of being of legal drinking age. We took our drinks to a booth by the bright window and tapped our glasses together. “To a successful escape,” Orin said.

  “Cheers.” I agreed. I was feeling about a thousand times better, getting out of that house. I didn’t care if we got in trouble later. It was worth it.

  “Now, what the hell was under your mattress?”

  Reality slammed back to me, and I put my cider down with a thunk. “This is going to sound crazy—”

  “Just proceed,” Orin waved me on. “Everything about this stupid race is crazy.”

  So I told him. All of it. The weird happenings before we went over the Hedge. Patricia’s rose and thistle earrings, Niall’s mention of the Brotherhood, his books disappearing from my room. Seeing the same symbol on crates in the dragon’s lair. And most of all, Cass’s letter. I was grateful it had been so short; I had every word of it memorized, even though it was gone.

  Gen-

  Double bad news. We didn’t find an MED in Caerleon. Doesn’t mean it’s not there. Worse, there’s been a break-in at HQ. We’ve had to move. It means you could be compromised. We know the Brotherhood has infiltrated the FFR. Be careful.

  -Cass

  “You’re sure it was from her?” Orin asked.

  “I would stake my life on it. The handwriting, the way she folded the page. It’s her. Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood?”

  Orin shook his head. “No. But what about the other parts of the message? HQ? That makes it sound like she’s part of an organized group. And what’s an MED?”

  “It is like an IED?” I joked.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  I paused, trying to remember what it stood for. “An improvised explosive device. Or something like that. It’s a bomb. Insurgents make them to blow up U.S. troops in countries like Afghanistan.”

  “I did think it was weird we had to go through that metal detector before we went back into Faerwild,” Orin said.

  Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that. “There was a book, too. In Cass’s room, when she disappeared. The ICCF took it, which I always thought was weird. Have you ever heard of A Disunion of Worlds?”

  Orin shook his head. “Maybe we could find a copy somewhere.”

  “We don’t have time to order it from Amazon,” I said. “We go back in tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know what a South American river has to do with this,” Orin said. “But there are bookstores and libraries in Cardiff. Maybe we could find a copy.”

  I pulled out my phone, and Orin came around to my side of the booth, sidling up next to me. I was hyper-conscious of the sip he took of his beer. My cider was hitting me a bit hard despite my huge breakfast, and my fingertips were pleasantly buzzy as I tapped my phone.

  “Try Cardiff University,” Orin said. “They probably have a fae section, since they’r
e so close to the portal at Caerleon.” His breath ruffled my hair, and goosebumps pebbled my skin. Damn, I was falling hard and fast. This was bad. I needed to be focused for the second trial. I was sure it was going to be even more grueling and evil than the first.

  I navigated into the Cardiff University library catalog and tapped in the name of the book. “They have it!” I squealed in delight.

  Orin took another sip of his beer. “Fancy another field trip?”

  5

  Unfortunately, they didn’t have Uber in Cardiff, so it was another half-hour before we successfully negotiated with the locals to take us into town. I could tell they were nervous around Orin—I had forgotten how foreboding his presence could be when you didn’t know him, with his tall, predatory grace and unearthly beauty. I tried to be extra perky and bubbly to soothe any of their nerves, and I think I came off as a little deranged.

  “Do you not drink much?” Orin asked as we piled into the back of some guy’s Mini, who had volunteered to drive us for £20.

  “Well, not a ton,” I said defensively. “I’m not legal yet in the U.S. Why?”

  “You’re acting strange.” He shook his head.

  I took a deep breath and tried to center myself, not wanting to explain the true reason for my exuberance. “I’ll be fine,” I said, looking out the window at the countryside sliding by.

  “Look, sheep!” I pressed my nose to the window as we passed a flock of bushy livestock being herded by a black and white sheepdog.

  Orin laughed, a deep rich sound that I realized I hadn’t heard much before. I liked it. “You need to get out more.”

  I shot him a black look, but it was soon followed by a smile. I couldn’t get over how good it felt to be away from the race, from the cameras. Just hanging out with Orin. Like two normal people. Or a normal person and a normal faerie, you know.

  Buildings sprung up around us, and we made our way through tree-lined streets into the center of Cardiff, to the university. As the driver put his car in park, I had a thought. “Can we borrow your hat for another £10? We’ll bring it back when we head back through town.”

  The guy grimaced but handed it over. I pressed the bill into his hand.

  We got out of the car, and Orin looked at the hat in distaste. “Is there a reason you want to give me lice?”

  “No one has lice,” I said. “And you’re way too conspicuous. At least with your ears covered, you can pass for just a ridiculously attractive human.”

  He donned the hat. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

  “For a human,” I huffed, turning scarlet at my slip. “Let’s find this library.”

  He didn’t even bother to hide the sly grin on his face.

  The Arts and Social Studies Library, which hosted the archives and rare books, was a squat, concrete, post-modern building that was nothing like the ornate old Welsh pseudo-castle I was imagining.

  We navigated our way through the building into the lower floors, which were filled with dusty old books with cracking leather spines. It took us a few minutes to find it, but find it we did. A Disunion of Worlds.

  I took the book off the shelf with reverence, stroking its black and red leather cover. “What is this symbol?” Orin asked, looking over my shoulder. It was the same one on the book Cass had. The book that appeared in the mirror realm under the faerie hill. I didn’t know why, but my gut told me this was important. “I don’t know,” I admitted, carrying the book over to a table where Orin and I sat down. “Let’s find out.”

  “Look!” Orin said as I opened the cover to the title page.

  I pulled in a breath. There was an image of the rose and thistle that I’ve seen before. “Arthur McQueen, third Order of the Brotherhood of the Rose & Thistle,” I read.

  “So that’s the Brotherhood,” Orin said.

  “But who are they? What do they want?” I pondered.

  Orin made a little hurry up motion, and I turned the page. We crowded together and started reading.

  As we turned the pages, a picture started to form. A history. Our history—that of the human world and the fae. “I didn’t know the human and faerie worlds were once combined,” I said, scanning the page. “How is that possible?”

  “Think about it,” Orin said, barely-restrained excitement on his face. “In ancient human stories, faeries feature prominently. As does magic. They co-existed. Magic was everywhere. Magic creatures. Magicians. And then at some point, it just…faded away.”

  “But it didn’t,” I pointed out. The book said that there was a group of mortal kings that were frightened of the power of faerie magic. They got together and schemed to banish faeries and faerie magic—quora—from the human world. Their magicians worked a huge spell that banished the faeries and faerie magic—separating the world into two realms—the human realm, Earth, and the faerie realm, Faerwild.

  “This explains so much,” Orin said. “Faerie circles are the portals where you can cross between realms. Ley lines are where the two realms are anchored together.”

  “I wonder if they realized that when they banished the fae, they would lose access to the most powerful magic. That the human realm would be almost drained of magic entirely. The magic creatures would die off.”

  “Probably not,” Orin said. “Humans have magic, in the essence of aether, but it’s so much less powerful than quora. It was probably an unintended consequence.”

  “The Brotherhood seems pretty pissed about it,” I said. The language of the book was…not favorable towards the ancient magicians who split the worlds, or the new set-up. “Unnatural abomination” seemed like a favorite phrase for the author Mr. McQueen.

  “They’re working to undo the division between worlds,” Orin said, his eyes growing wide. “They’re trying to get rid of the Hedge. That’s what the Brotherhood wants.”

  “Okay, whatever,” I shrugged. “Some old-timey dudes are feeling nostalgic for the old days. Who cares? What does it have to do with the race? With Cass?” We had found answers, but they only seemed to lead to more questions.

  “I don’t know what it has to do with the race,” Orin said, “but we should care very much if the Hedge is destroyed and the two worlds are reunited. Remember how technology can’t operate in Faerie? Electronics totally short out? We have magic to work things there. Reunifying the worlds would plunge the human realm back into the dark ages.”

  “Not to mention the man-eating plants and stuff,” I said, horror growing within me. My time in Faerwild flashed before my eyes. Running for my life. The treacherous nymphs, the terrifying Erl-King and his dancing bonfire of hell, the dragon…humans wouldn’t stand a chance if these faerie creatures were set loose. I imagined the dragon loose in Santa Monica…it would be a blood bath. “This is bad,” I said. “Isn’t it?” A flash of bright light went off, and I blinked, shaking my head.

  “Yes, yes, it is,” Orin replied grimly. I followed his line of sight to where a gaggle of students stood, snapping pictures of us on their cell phones. Uh-oh. It looked like our covert breakout was just about to get a whole lot more public.

  6

  “Shit!” I muttered under my breath. Gabe had said how famous we all were, but I hadn’t quite grasped the concept. I reserved that word for the likes of Johnny Depp or the Queen of England. It didn’t quite compute that the word could ever be used to describe me.

  As I turned my head to survey the library, I saw more people pretending to look at their phones while not so subtly filming Orin and my every move. They weren’t threatening, just students who happened across a couple of reality show stars, but thinking back to the camera in my room, it made me feel that my days of having privacy were gone. How did those Hollywood stars do it? All these people watching me was making me sick to my stomach.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I picked up the book, and without thinking, reached for Orin’s hand. That was it. There was a collective oooh from the students, and those of them who had been subtly and not so subtly filming us now dro
pped all pretense and practically chased us out of the library, cameras held up to capture our every move.

  “Aren’t you supposed to check that out?” Orin asked with a smirk as we slid back into the waiting Mini. He was enjoying his minute of fame much more than I expected. It surprised me. He didn’t seem the type.

  “I’ll mail them a check,” I blustered. “I hope the producers don’t check YouTube.”

  Orin raised a brow. “YouTube? Dare I even ask? It sounds rude.”

  My cheeks colored. “It’s a website that shows things that people have filmed. A bit like a TV station that anyone can upload stuff to.”

  “How very interesting what you humans come up with to entertain yourselves.” He didn’t sound in the least bit excited by it. “I expect the studio staff have better things to do with their time than watch amateur movies.”

  “Actually it’s mostly videos of cute animals and people falling over,” I explained, hoping Orin was right.

  He wasn’t.

  At the main gate to Hennington House, Gabe was waiting for us, arms crossed over his chest, his feet planted wide.

  “You two better have a good explanation,” he thundered at us as we stepped out of the Mini and thanked our driver.

  I felt like a kid again, being lectured for not following rules. I pushed the book further under my coat so Gabe couldn’t see. I had no idea who I could trust anymore. I liked Gabe and thought he was a straight-up guy with no hidden agenda, but I’d also trusted Tristam and look where that had gotten me.

  “I’ve never been out of Faerwild before now. I asked Jacq to show me some of the sights,” Orin lied. He was remarkably good at it, which unsettled me slightly.

  “Really?” Gabe looked at me to confirm if what Orin was saying was the truth. I just nodded my head and kept quiet. I was not so proficient a liar. “What sights did you see?”