The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1)

The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1) Page 15

“You called his home yesterday afternoon, correct?” the policeman continued, and when I nodded, he added, “And he spent the night at your house the day before?”

“Yeah.” I feigned confusion, looking back and forth between them. “Why? What’s going on?”

The policemen exchanged a glance. “He’s missing,” one of them said, and I raised my eyebrows in fake surprise. “His mother reported that he didn’t come home last night, and that she had received a call from Ethan Chase, a boy from his school, on the afternoon before his disappearance.” His gaze flickered to the sticks in my hand, then back up to me, eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t know anything about his whereabouts, would you, Ethan?”

I forced myself to be calm, shaking my head. “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Sorry.”

It was pretty clear he didn’t believe me, for his mouth thinned, and he spoke slowly, deliberately. “You have no clue as to what he was doing yesterday, no idea of where he could have gone?” When I hesitated, his voice became friendlier, encouraging. “Any information would be useful to us, Ethan.”

“I told you,” I said, firmer this time. “I don’t know anything.”

He gave an annoyed little huff, as if I was being deliberately evasive—which I was, but not for the reasons he thought. “Ethan, you realize we’re only trying to help, don’t you? You aren’t protecting anyone if you hide information from us.”

“I think that’s enough.” Dad suddenly came into the yard, bathrobe and all, glaring at the policemen. “Officers, your concern is appreciated, but I believe my son has told you all he knows.” I blinked at Dad in shock as he came to stand beside me, smiling but firm. “If we find anything out, we’ll be sure to call you.”

“Sir, you don’t seem to realize—”

“I realize just fine, officers,” Dad said, his polite smile never wavering. “But Ethan has already given you his answer. Thank you for stopping by.”

They looked irritated, but Dad wasn’t a small man and had this stance that could be compared to a friendly but stubborn bull; you weren’t going to get him to move once he’d made up his mind. After a lengthy pause—as if hoping I would fess up at the last second, perhaps—the officers gave curt nods and turned away. Muttering polite “ma’ams” to Mom, they swept by her, and she followed them, I assumed to the front door.

Dad waited a few seconds after the back door clicked shut before turning to me. “Todd Wyndham is the boy who came over the other night. Anything you’d like to tell me, son?”

I shook my head, not looking at him. “No,” I muttered, feeling bad for lying, especially after he’d just gotten rid of the policemen for me. “I swear I don’t know anything.”

“Hmm.” Dad gave me an unreadable look, then shuffled back into the house. But Mom appeared in the doorway again, watching me. I saw the fear on her face, the disappointment. She knew I was lying.

She hesitated a moment longer, as if waiting for me to confess, to tell her something different. But what could I say? That the kid who’d spent the night with us was part faery, and this creepy new breed of fey were after him for some reason? I couldn’t drag her into this; she would flip out for sure, thinking I was next. There was nothing either of them could do to help. So, I averted my gaze, and after a long, achingly uncomfortable pause, she slipped inside, slamming the door behind her.

I winced. Great, now they were both pissed at me. Sighing, I switched my rattan sticks to one hand and went in myself. I wished I could smack the tire dummy a while longer, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea now. The last thing I wanted was a grilling session where they would both ask questions I couldn’t answer.

Mom and Dad were talking in the kitchen—probably about me—so I slipped into my room and gently closed the door.

My phone sat on the corner of my desk. For a second, I thought about calling Kenzie. I wondered what she was doing now, if the police had shown up on her doorstep, asking about a missing classmate. I wondered if she was worried about him…or me.

What? Why would she worry about you, you psychopath? You’ve been nothing but a jackass to her, and besides, you don’t care, remember?

Angry now, I stalked to my bed and flopped down on it, flinging an arm over my face. I had to stop thinking of her, but my brain wasn’t being cooperative this morning. Instead of focusing on the demonstration and the missing half-breed and the creepy Fey out to get us both, my thoughts kept going back to Kenzie St. James. The idea of calling her, just to see if she was all right, grew more and more tempting, until I jumped up and stalked to the living room, flipping on the television to drown out my traitorous thoughts.

The day passed in a blur of old action movies and commercials. I didn’t move from the couch, afraid that if I went into my room, I’d see my unblinking phone and know Kenzie hadn’t called me. Or worse, that she had, and I’d be tempted to call her back. I lounged on the sofa, the remains of empty chip bags, dirty plates and empty soda cans surrounding me, until late afternoon when Mom made an exasperated comment about rotting brains and bumps on logs or something, and ordered me to do something else.

Flipping off the television, I sat up, thinking. I still had a couple of hours till the demonstration. Wandering back to my room, I again noticed the phone on the corner of the desk. Nothing. No missed calls, texts, anything. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

As I reached for it, though, it rang. Without checking the number, I snatched it up and put it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Ethan?” The voice on the other end wasn’t Kenzie, as I’d hoped, though it was vaguely familiar. “Is this Ethan Chase?”

“Yeah?”

“This…this is Mrs. Wyndham, Todd’s mother.”

My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard and gripped the phone tightly, as the voice on the other end continued.

“I know the police have already spoken to you,” she said in a halting, broken voice, “but I…I wanted to ask you myself. You say you’re Todd’s friend…do you know what could have happened to him? Please, I’m desperate. I just want my son home.”

Her voice broke at the end, and I closed my eyes. “Mrs. Wyndham, I’m sorry about Todd,” I said, feeling like an ass. Worse than an ass, like a complete and utter failure, because I’d let another person down, because I couldn’t protect them from the fey. “But I really don’t know where he is. The last time we spoke was yesterday at school, before I talked to you, I swear.” She gave a little sob, making my gut clench. “I’m really sorry,” I said again, knowing how useless that sounded. “I wish I could give you better news.”

She took a shaky breath. “All right, thank you, Ethan. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She sniffed and seemed about to say goodbye, but hesitated. “If…if you see him,” she went on, “or if you find any information at all…will you let me know? Please?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “If I see him, I’ll make sure he gets home, I promise.”

After she hung up, I paced my room, not knowing what to do. I tried surfing online, watching YouTube, checking out various weapon stores, just to keep myself distracted, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t stop thinking of Todd, and Kenzie, caught in the twisted games of the fey. And it was partly my fault. Todd had been playing a dangerous game, and Kenzie was too stubborn to know when to back off, but the common denominator was me.

Now, one of them was gone and another family was torn apart. Just like last time.

Picking up my phone, I stuck it in my jeans pocket and snatched my keys from the desk. Grabbing my gym bag from the floor, I started to leave. Might as well head to the demonstration now; it was better than standing around here, driving myself crazy.

The silver coin on the desk glinted, and I paused. Sliding it into my palm, I stared at it, wondering where Meghan was, what she was doing. Did she ever think of me? Would she be disgusted, if she knew how I’d turned out?

“Ethan!” Mom’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Your karate thing is tonight, isn’t it? Do you want anything to eat before you go?”

I stuffed the coin in my pocket with the keys and left the room. “Kali, Mom, not karate,” I told her, walking into the kitchen. “And no, I’ll grab something on the way. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Curfew is still at eleven, Ethan.”

Irritation flared. “Yeah, I know,” I muttered. “It’s been that way for five years. Why would it change now? It’s not like I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Before she could say anything, I stalked past her and headed outside. “And, yes, I’ll call if I’m going to be late,” I threw back over my shoulder.

I could feel Mom’s half angry, half worried gaze on my back as I slammed out the front door, making sure to bang it as I left. Stupid of me. If I had known what was going to happen at the demonstration that night, I would’ve said something much different.

The building was already full of people when I arrived. Tournaments had been going on for most of the afternoon, and shouts, ki-yas, and the shuffle of bare feet on mats echoed through the room as I ducked inside. Kids in their white gis tied with different colored belts threw punches and kicks within taped-off arenas; from the looks of it, it was the kempo students’ turn on the mats.

I spotted Guro Javier and made my way over, weaving through students and onlookers, gritting my teeth as someone—a large kid with a purple belt—elbowed me in the ribs. I glared at him, and he smirked, as if daring me to try something. As if I’d start a fight with the brat in front of two hundred parents and about a dozen masters of various arts. Ignoring the kid’s self-satisfied grin, I continued along the wall and stood next to my guro in the corner. He was watching the tournament with detached interest and gave a faint smile as I came up.