Chapter 23
I WANTED TO run right up to Rissa, ignoring everyone, and yell, “Where are Dad and Olive?”
But I couldn’t without drawing unwanted attention. I was pretending to be fae, in a fae burrow, surrounded by other fae. So I gritted my teeth and held in my scream.
Only Soren’s hand taking mine kept me grounded in reality. I clutched his fingers so tight he probably lost circulation, but he didn’t complain.
“What do we do?” I hissed, speed walking through the kitchen in the direction Rissa had gone.
Soren waited until we’d entered the tunnel, glancing behind and ahead to make sure we were alone, before calling out in his deep voice, “Rissa!”
The sound of her name pulled her to a stop.
As we came around to block her path, she stared through us instead of meeting my gaze.
“Marissa!” I tried again. “It’s me, Brynn!”
She didn’t respond.
Jitters rolled down my spine.
“Marissa,” Soren repeated her full name in a soothing tone. “Can you tell us where your father and—” He glanced at me in question.
“Youngest sister.”
“And your youngest sister are?” he finished.
Slowly, her eyes rose to his, squinting like he was too bright to look at.
“Olive,” I prompted when she only blinked at him. “Rissa, where are Dad and Olive?”
“Olive,” she repeated slowly.
I whirled on Soren. “What’s wrong with her?”
Holding up a hand, he kept his gaze on Rissa. “Give her a second.”
We could almost see her return to the surface of her mind, and she started blinking more rapidly as her consciousness emerged. Her drink tray fell from her hands with a crash, splashing our legs with liquid. “Where am I? Who are you?”
I stepped in front of Soren, ignoring the puddle of fae wine underfoot. “Rissa, it’s me.”
She squinted again. “You look a lot like my sister . . .”
She thought I was fae.
Spinning to Soren, I gestured wildly at my face. “Take the glamour off!”
His fingers danced over my cheeks and forehead, but with my blood pumping loudly in my ears and my whole body vibrating at the fact that my sister was right there, I barely felt it.
“Done,” he murmured.
Swiveling back to Rissa, I put my face an inch in front of hers. “Rissa, it’s me. It’s Brynn. I’m here.”
The next second, her arms wrapped around me, squeezing tight, and her body shook with sobs. “What’s going on, Brynn? Where are we? Where are Dad and Olive?”
Tears streamed down my face. I held it together just barely, brushing a comforting hand over her dark hair. “I was really hoping you might know . . . But they’re here somewhere, Rissa, and we’re going to get you all home . . .” I struggled to sound hopeful.
Soren saved me. “Rissa, close your eyes and picture their faces the last time you saw them.” To me, he added, “It might take her a bit to access the memories, but they’re there.”
She just shook her head against my shoulder. Trembling, she continued to cry, soaking my dress, but I held her tight, not caring. Slowly, as the tears stemmed, she hiccuped and pulled back. “I think we came here together. I can remember them giving us the same job, serving drinks.”
“Okay, okay, we can work with that.” I rubbed her arms, trying to warm her up because both her coat and her blue robe were gone. All she wore was an old tank top and those ragged sweat pants that said “juicy” on the butt.
“Perhaps back to the kitchen?” Soren suggested. “If they’re all serving drinks, then logic says they have to come back to get more eventually.”
“Yes!” I practically yelled, wrapping an arm around Rissa and pulling her back down the tunnel.
“Wait, I have to—” She stretched her hand back toward the drink tray, digging in her heels.
Soren picked it up, placing it in her hands. “She can’t help it,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “Better to go along with her instincts when you’re able.”
Sneaking back into the kitchen, we were ignored just like the last time, and Soren waved us both into a pantry, waiting for Rissa’s slow shuffle to follow me in before pulling the door mostly closed. “In case any other fae come through,” he murmured in my ear, and I nodded understanding.
The people here barely noticed our existence, but another fae would ask questions.
It took ages, but Olive entered the kitchen next.
I squealed and shook Rissa’s arm where my hand still wrapped around her wrist. “Look!”
She’d gone half zombie again, and her reaction came slow, but as she spotted Olive’s face, she bounced a little in muted excitement.
When we moved to leave the pantry, Rissa automatically lifted her drink tray.
“No, no.” A hint of panic hit me at the thought of her wandering off and forgetting us. Tugging the tray out of her hands, I started to sweat through the gold dress. “Stay here with Soren, okay? Rissa?” I couldn’t risk losing her.
She nodded with a confused expression but didn’t protest.
Soren placed a calming hand on my back and gave me a nod that said he’d watch out for her.
It was pure torture to wait for Olive to load her tray full of drinks, turn her back to us, and head for the same quiet hallway Rissa had used. I jumped out and ran after her the second she crossed the threshold.
Now to repeat the whole process over again.
I had to use her name four times before I got through to her. That was three times more than Soren had needed. Unlike Rissa, though, she didn’t cry. She just set the tray down slowly and then sort of . . . melted.
Folding in on herself, she dropped to the ground first, then curled into a quiet ball.
“Olive? Olive.” I fell to my knees next to her, checking her pulse.
She was still breathing, but she didn’t move.
“Hey, Olive, I know it’s hard, but we need to go. You need to listen to me,” I pleaded with her as I pulled at her lifeless arm. It just dangled in my grip. Her body was deadweight. “Ugh, I need Soren’s magic voice,” I grumbled.
Feet shuffled behind me, then stopped.
Between Olive curled up on one side and me on the other, we’d blocked the narrow passageway.
“Sorry.” I scooted to one side, assuming it was another zombie human, since a fae would’ve yelled at me to move by now.
Wiping my eyes to hide the emotions pouring out of me, I glanced up briefly.
My heart stopped.
“Dad!”