Chapter Eleven
I stared at my phone as we drove, waiting to have enough bars so I could call Carley. When I got her on the line she was frantic. In a rush she said that no one had found Nick and that he was probably dead somewhere or had flung himself off a cliff because of their fight, and was now dying of injuries because no one knew where he was. I told her where we'd found Nick and that he was a little tired but fine. Instantly she started screaming an incoherent rant about how rude Nick was. It took me five minutes to calm her down. Finally she just said she'd get to the Roths' house as soon as she could, and hung up. Holt and I made the rest of the drive in silence.
As Holt pulled into his driveway I realized I'd never gotten a good look at the front of his house; it was mostly blocked by the garden. I saw that there was a large courtyard and on one side a four-car garage attached to the house. Holt parked in front of it and we got out of the car to meet Nick, who had parked his mud-covered car further away.
Standing right in front of the door to Holt's house, I could finally appreciate how massive and imposing it was. White columns surrounded me on either side and the windows were framed with dark drapes. I was really nervous about meeting Holt's family, especially since I had no idea what was going on with Holt, and until just a little while ago I had thought he hated me.
Holt opened the door and we walked into an entryway. There was a carpeted staircase winding upwards directly in front of us, with thick wooden doors surrounded by white molding on either side. I could see a closed door straight ahead.
The floor was wood, covered by a massive carpet with a flower design: a single rose.
"I'm going to take him to get changed," said Holt, pointing up the stairs. "You can wait in here."
I followed him to the door on the right, which he opened. It was a library, painted a bright yellow but with books lining most of the walls. The furniture was leather and modern; as Holt and Nick left I sank gratefully onto the couch. There was a stack of magazines on a small side table and I grabbed one and started to flip through it while I waited.
Once Holt had left the room, though, my nerves took over. I felt awkward and out of place and I wondered why I had let Carley convince me to text Holt that morning. He was the one who had said we couldn't be friends, and then I'd forced myself on him. Granted, I thought I deserved an explanation for whatever was going on, but I still felt awful being in his house and sitting on his couch. If he didn't want anything to do with me, I should just leave him alone.
I was still sitting there a few minutes later when the door burst open and in came Casey and Susan.
"Hi!" said Susan, almost squealing in delight.
I put the magazine away and stood up. "Hi," I said, waiting to see what would come next.
Susan was dressed in a gorgeous white summer dress, and her hair fell almost to her waist in ringlets. I was acutely aware that I was still in my PJs and jacket from that morning.
"It's so nice to see you," she said, coming forward and wringing my hand. Before I had a chance to catch my breath she enveloped me in a hug. "I just know we're going to be the best of friends."
"Do you need anything?" she asked. "Water? Food? Anything at all - we'd be happy to get it for you."
"No, thanks," I said. After eating most of Carley's breakfast I probably wouldn't be hungry for a month.
"Hey, I see you found Autumn," said Holt, coming in. He had obviously showered, because his hair hung loose and damp around his head, only making him more attractive.
"We were just introducing ourselves," said Susan, who moved to give Holt a hug.
Casey went to the window and peered out. "Carley is here."
The four of us went into the hall to meet her.
"Where's Nick, Holt?" I asked him.
"He's coming," he replied. "He had more to wash off than I did. I'm not sure those clothes he was wearing are savable."
Holt opened the front door so that Carley didn't have to knock. She looked like a thundercloud about to burst, but when she saw Holt she calmed down a little. He ushered her inside and said, "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she answered; now she was outright smiling. "Just came to see Nick."
"He should be alright now," said Holt.
Watching as Holt calmed Carley down, I remembered how his presence had affected Olivia at the restaurant.
"Do you need anything?" asked Susan, stepping forward. "You look like you could use some hot tea."
With surprise I realized that Susan was right. I'd been so busy watching the interaction between Holt and Carley that I hadn't noticed that she too was still dressed in her PJs. She didn't look happy about it, either.
"That would be great," she said.
"Let's all go to the kitchen," said Casey.
She led the way toward the closed door I had seen when I got there, and everyone else followed behind. I could hear Holt and Carley lost in quiet conversation. I was grateful to him for distracting my friend from her worry about Nick and glad that no matter what went on between us he'd still be there for my friends if they needed him.
The kitchen was just as amazing as the library. Everything in it was black or white. The countertops were white marble; gleaming pots and pans hung against the backdrop of white walls, while the fridge and the stove were black. Huge bay windows looked over the garden. I felt a slight twitch, but seeing the garden didn't disorient me this time.
I forced my attention back to the room.
"Hi, everyone," said Nick, coming through the doorway just as Susan was putting a pot of water on for tea and the rest of us were seating ourselves around the counter island.
"Nicholas Michael Farnsworth, how DARE YOU DO THAT TO ME?" As she said it, Carley jumped out of the seat she'd just sat in and went over and smacked Nick on the shoulder.
"Ouch, Carley," said Nick, rubbing the injured area. "I didn't think you'd care."
"Didn't think I'd care? How could you think I wouldn't care?" she almost screamed at him.
"Carley, come on. I was fine," said Nick.
"If I have anything to say about it you won't be in another five minutes," she said.
"Why don't you two sit down? Carley, if you really want to kill him, do it outside. Less messy," said Holt, grinning.
"Thanks a lot," muttered Nick, but Carley got out of his way so he could join everyone else around the island.
While Susan prepared tea, Holt motioned to me. I paused for a minute, enjoying the conversation as Carley continuing to chide Nick, but I got up and followed Holt when he asked me to. No one commented when we left. Even though he had said we'd talk, I was surprised he'd leave Nick and Carley with Susan and Casey. But I knew Susan and Casey would take good care of them.
My heart started thumping faster when I realized he was leading me into the garden. For a few minutes we walked quietly along, getting lost (at least I did) in the paths and smells. Holt didn't say anything, but soon he led me gently to a small alcove that I didn't remember seeing the other times I'd come in.
The alcove was like a small courtyard covered in stones. There were walls of stone that reached over my head, even the floor was paved with flagstones. Carved into the wall in front of me was a design: a black rose. It was beautiful. Two stone benches stood opposite each other and in front of me was a half stone wall. I started to walk toward the stone wall, to see over it, but instead, for the first time since I'd met him, Holt took my hand.
Everything else fell away as I felt his touch. My hand felt alive and tingly, as if I had just touched magic I'd only thought possible in a dream. Involuntarily, I smiled.
My fingers flexed around his and I was sure that no matter what happened, there was no way I'd be able to let go of his hand.
I looked up at him. His eyes were like churning waves, an even deeper green than usual, with shots of silver froth.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.
I wasn't even sure I could speak, so I just nodded. He led me to on
e of the benches and sat down, never letting go of my hand.
I sat next to him on the bench, waiting for him to stay something. He just stared down at our intertwined hands as if in awe. I had no idea why I was reacting to his touch that way, but maybe he had known it would happen and that's why he hadn't touched me?
As usual lately, I didn't get it.
"I . . ." He paused, but quickly started again. "I want to tell you a story. Of sorts. It's up to you to decide . . . what you believe. And what you want. What you want is very important."
"You don't have to explain anything if you don't want to," I said. At that moment I meant it. All I cared about was that he keep holding my hand.
"No," he said. "I do. Now more than ever." He squeezed my hand reassuringly.
"Can't we just sit for a little while like this? I don't want anything to ruin it," I said.
He looked me right in the eye, leaning very close. "Nothing will ruin this," he said fiercely. "Nothing. Ever. No matter what, we will always be friends."
He took a deep breath, as if he wasn't sure where to begin.
"I knew from the moment I saw you," he said, "that you were one of the special ones. You could smell the flowers. You knew what I did at the airport. It was amazing. But I also knew from the moment I saw you . . . that you weren't meant for me."
I felt my heart sink.
"And you've noticed some odd things happening," he said. "Stuff with flowers, stuff with people, all the girls I hang out with . . . Samuel."
"I thought you must have a family feud or something," I said desperately.
"We do," said Holt, nodding. "You have no idea. It's just not what you're imagining."
"So, just tell me," I burst out.
Holt continued to stall for a while, but finally he stood up, still holding my hand. "It might be better if I show you."
He put his hand on the bench, smacking it gently against the cold stone. At first nothing happened. I frowned. What did he think he was doing?
But then slowly, at first so gradually I couldn't believe what I was seeing, vines came out of nowhere and started to creep up the stone of the bench, stretching from all around to rise up and encase it. I was forced to jump to my feet.
After the vines had settled, flowers followed them. They started small, but then they grew to burst forth in a gorgeous array of blues, yellows, pinks, whites, and purples. All the while Holt kept one hand on the bench and the other entwined with mine, and I stared, transfixed by what I saw.
Finally the growing slowed, then came to a complete stop. The bench was now covered with a cushion of flowers, so much so that I couldn't even see the original stones underneath.
"So . . ." I didn't even understand what had just happened enough to be able to ask about it. I could feel his warm palm in mine, and after seeing plants grow from nothing it felt like the only real thing in the world. But I still didn't get whatever he was trying to tell me. "So, if you're telling the truth and you're NOT totally insane . . ."
"So then, I'm a Fairy," he said, looking at me. "I'm part of the Summer Kingdom Court here, which explains the flowers and people being happy to see me; it has to do with the smell of the flowers on me." He stopped, waiting to hear my reaction.
"But you don't look like a Fairy!" I cried. "Don't they wear tights and crowns of flowers or something?" I was scrambling for some logical reason for him not to be one.
Holt choked and then just laughed.
"No, or at least, I don't. At the Solstice Party some of us will dress more like our Fairy selves, but no, you can't tell by looking at me if I don't want you to, except maybe the designs under the skin. Those aren't always so easy to hide."
I had to wonder: was the guy holding my hand actually crazy? But another part of me whispered that he'd just made flowers grow to blooming in seconds out of thin air. So maybe I was the one who was crazy?
I thought back to the time Leslie and Lydia had cornered me, how it had almost looked like there were patterns shining under their skin. But then that would mean . . . I would wait to see if he explained that.
Instead I said, "But I don't smell anything on you. It doesn't make me giddy when I see you. Just that first time."
"No, you don't act like everyone else. It's why you're special. The smell doesn't affect you. None of it does," he said, quietly looking at our combined hands.
"Why me?" I asked. "Why could I see what you did at the airport?"
"I honestly don't know," he said. "There are very few humans who can be what you are. Really, it must mean that somewhere in your ancestry there is some Fairy blood."
I nodded numbly. I really needed to sit down. Tugging him along, I went to the other bench and sat. Sure, I have a tad bit of Fairy blood running through me. No big deal.
He waited for me to say something, but I was lost in thought.
This may sound crazy, but it actually explained a lot. People just sort of smiled and bounced around him when they saw him, the flowers reached for him, if you looked closely you saw designs under his skin. It also explained how he had saved me so fast when that guy was about to fall on me and how he had known I was in his garden that first night.
"Okay. So, say I believe you . . . you're part of a Fairy Summer Kingdom? Right? I'm supposed to believe that," I said.
"I am, we love dancing and happiness. We love beautiful colors and physical growth and warmth - as we express through flowers, among other things," he said, his voice rising with pleasure.
"Isn't there something called Glamour for Fairies? So that mortals can't see you? Why can I see you?"
Holt shrugged. "It's easier on us if we just blend in. The salt air helps dampen humans' ability to sense us, so we don't have as big an impact on you. We only use Glamour when we have to."
"Have you ever used it on me?" I asked indignantly.
"Not since that first day," he said drily. "We only use it if we're in trouble."
That made sense. I had confronted him about what he had done at the airport and he must have realized that I could see through his magic. "Why are you telling me all this?" I asked, wondering how he could reveal such secrets.
"Well, you insisted," he said with a slight smile. "And because you would have known eventually."
"So you were planning on telling me?" I asked. "Just not yet?"
"I had hoped that at some point you'd know, yes," he said cautiously.
For a long time I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what to say. Tons of questions were darting through my mind in a jumbled heap.
Now it was time to ask about the other part of things, but I had a feeling I knew what was coming. "What about Samuel?" I asked. "Is he part of the Fairy Summer Kingdom too?"
Now Holt really did look concerned. "No, not exactly."
"Because he doesn't have the same effect on flowers and people," I said, remembering that the only really unusual thing about Samuel had been the cold.
"Oh, he has an effect all right," Holt muttered bitterly.
"I don't get it," I said, frowning. "Your families are feuding? Is that it? But about what, if he's not a Summer Fairy?"
"They aren't feuding," said Holt. "We are enemies. Sort of, but we also support each other when the time calls for it. It's complicated."
"Okay, so how does he fit in?" I asked.
"He's part of the Winter Kingdom," said Holt slowly, not looking at me.
"Oh . . ." I said. "Wait, what?"
"The Winter Kingdom is the opposite of the Summer Kingdom. They are Fairies, but their powers are different. They are not for pleasure and happiness. They are for cold and whipping winds," said Holt. "We do not get along. They have less power in the summer, while we have less in the winter."
"Are your families at war?" I asked with concern. "Because you don't look like you are."
"No, not right now. There's a truce, which we hope to hold," said Holt. "But I'm not sure that's going to happen."
"Are the Cheshire girls really Samuel's cousins?
" I asked, thinking of the impossibly beautiful and icy women I always saw him with. Oddly enough, it made more sense that Samuel was a Fairy. He always seemed so shockingly graceful and smooth. And last night at the cliff he'd moved so fast . . .
"Some of them, but some of them are members of his Court," he said.
"So, Samuel could date one of them if he chose?" I asked.
"The fact that they are members of his Court means that he, specifically, cannot, no," said Holt cautiously.
"Wait, why?" I asked. "He seems very close with them."
"Why are you so worried about Samuel's dating habits?" asked Holt in a strangled voice.
"I was just curious. Are you dating any of the girls in your Court? Susan?" I tried to keep any trace of jealousy out of my voice, but I could hear an edge to the question.
"I am a Prince in the Summer Court. I am heir to my parents' throne. I do not 'date' members of our Courts."
I nodded encouragingly. "That sounds impressive. I don't actually know what it means, but it sounds impressive."
He smiled. "It's not. It's just a fact. I am what I am and my duties require me to do . . . what they require me to do."
That sounded seriously ominous.
"And Samuel is the same?" I asked, but I had a bad feeling I already knew what Holt was going to say Samuel was.
"Samuel is a Prince of the Winter Court. He is also his parents' heir," said Holt grimly.
"And that's bad?" I asked tentatively. "I mean, I can see you think it's bad, but why is it bad?" I really didn't get it. Basically Holt had yet to tell me anything bad.
"It's bad," said Holt, "because we both have to find brides."
"You what?" I asked, shocked. What century did we live in again?
"Why do you have to find brides?" I wanted to know.
"So that the lines continue, so that the Courts continue. Our very survival depends on my finding a queen to rule with me," he said. "Look, Autumn, I know this is a lot for you to take in," he continued, standing up with me and reaching for me. "But please just listen."
I felt overwhelmed. Of all of the things I thought might be going on with Holt and Samuel, and between the Cheshires and the Roths, this hadn't been one of them. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before?" I asked, groping to make some sense of it.
"I don't know. It had been so long since someone like you had come along, I was afraid of ruining it. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. I couldn't stand it if I hurt you," he said. His eyes were pleading.
"So, is that why Samuel hates me?" I asked. "Because I would marry you and not him?"
Holt looked upset now. "Samuel doesn't hate you, but he's upset because he doesn't want to marry you." He paused and sighed. "Look, it's complicated. I wish you'd let me explain more."
"You should have told me," I said quietly. "You really should have told me."
"I wanted to," he said desperately, reaching for me again. "I wanted to from the second I saw you."
This time I let him pull me back. I sat there, waiting to hear the rest of the story.