Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“And where is that?” I ask him “I mean, where do you really come from?” It was the second time I’d asked him that question, but this time I wanted a straight answer.
“The same place you come from,” Bran said patiently.
Before I could protest again that I didn’t know what he was talking about, he thrust the little vial of pale blue liquid at me.
“Here,” he said to me. “Drink. Show me your true face Emma.”
“But…you’ve seen my true face,” I protested, though I took the little test tube eagerly. “You’ve seen it every day at school for weeks.”
“No,” Bran said quietly. “No, I don’t think I have. Go on…” He made a motion to me. “Drink.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice—I really wanted to be de-uglified, if that was even a word.
I brought the tube to my lips and tilted it back to take a swallow. The pale blue liquid burned going down, but I didn’t care. I would have swallowed liquid fire at that point – anything to get back to my normal self!
But I didn’t feel the strange sensation like a big hand squeezing me that I did when I took the Suva. In fact, I didn’t feel much of anything at all.
After a moment Bran frowned.
“What is it?” I asked him anxiously. “Did it work? What do I look like?”
“I’m afraid you look about the same,” he said reluctantly. “The counter-spell didn’t work.”
“What?” I demanded jumping up to peer into his bedroom mirror.
Sure enough, I still looked hideous. Hump-back, crooked nose and all.
What was going on? Why didn’t the blue liquid antidote work for me like it had worked for him?
Bran sighed and shook his head.
“Well, I didn’t want to do this but I think I’m going to have to call someone else for help.”
“Who?” I demand. “And whoever it is, can they turn me back to what I was before I took that awful purple sauce?”
“If he can’t nobody can,” Bran said decidedly. He frowned. “My father isn’t going to like it though—it means contacting someone outside the family and giving away our location.”
“Well, I’m really sorry to ask you to do that but please, Bran. Look at me.”
I spread my hands to indicate my humped back, crooked, warty nose, and snarly grey-brown hair. I was literally only a black cat and a broomstick away from being a fairytale witch. I couldn’t stay like this.
At least I certainly hoped I wouldn’t have to.
“No, of course you must be changed back,” he said. “This is my fault in the first place—I had a feeling about you when you healed the chimeling with your tears that you might have some Fae blood in you. It was negligent of me to let my family leave any trace of the Suva out for you to find tonight.”
“I promise not to sue you if you just get me changed back,” I told him. Because he was sounding kind of like a lawyer, talking about negligence and all.
Bran nodded firmly.
“Right. I’ll need to do a summoning incantation. Thank goodness the moon is full—he ought to hear me right away.”
“He, who?” I asked, wondering what the name of my would-be savior was. “Is he Fae too?”
“He is but he’s not of the Summer Court,” Bran said darkly. “He was born UnSeelie but now he’s a Solitary Fae—he holds no allegiance to anyone but himself.”
“Um…then what makes you think he’ll come when you call?” I asked uncertainly.
“Oh, he’ll come,” Bran said, nodding. “He’ll absolutely come because he’ll be curious. Lachlan always was as curious as a cat.”
Well, at least now I knew the name of the guy who was presumably going to de-uglify me.
“How do we get in touch with him?” I asked Bran. “Do we call or text or what?”
Bran laughed.
“Oh, no—cells phones don’t work in the Realm and that’s where Lachlan will be. No, we’ll have to make a fairy ring and call him from there. Let me just get a few things and we’ll go look for a likely spot.”
I had no idea what he was talking about but I had no choice but to follow him as he went quietly through his house and got a few things—among them, a really big canister of salt and a bag of what turned out to be rusty nails, though he warned me not to touch them. Then he added a bowl, a jug of milk, and one of those plastic squeeze bottle bears filled with honey and we let ourselves out of the house as quietly as he had let me in.
“Come on,” Bran said, and led me into the woods.
26
The moon was full, as he had said, but that didn’t make it any less creepy to be sneaking around in the woods at night. Central Florida has a sub-tropical climate, which means that we’re not talking about a pretty, idyllic, fairytale kind of forest where the big old trees are spaced wide apart over a soft, mossy forest floor.