Glimmers of Glass (A Glimmers Novel #1: Cinderella)

Chapter 15

I clutched the steering wheel with both hands. I'd pulled into the parking lot of Multnomah Falls five minutes ago, but I still couldn't convince myself to let go of the wheel and get out of the car. I hadn't told anyone where I was going, just that I was meeting someone for work. Dad had been so pleased I was taking my job seriously that he'd given me the keys, no questions asked. I wished he'd stopped me.

The sun hovered low in the sky. It was far enough into spring that sunset had started lingering into the evening. Now, it cast warm yellow light onto the trees at the top of the cliff face above me. Not much of it reached down here. Multnomah Falls was the tallest waterfall in the state of Oregon, and the cliff it fell from cast a dark, cold shadow over the parking lot. I blew a long puff of air out, wishing I could send all my tension with it, then threw open the car door.

The wind hit me immediately, a sharp cold breeze that snaked in from the highway and whipped its way down the back of my peacoat collar. The hem of my moss-green dress flew up around my knees. I pulled the coat more tightly around myself and slammed the car door before walking across the parking lot, under the railroad bridge, and up toward the falls.

The usual crowd of tourists was thin this time of year. March was too cold and rainy for anyone to want to stay too long. I walked up the long wide staircase that led to the first viewing platform, then looked up. White water dropped down hundreds of gallons at a time, cascading down to crash in the pool below. Mist drifted cold across my face.

The path up to the bridge zig-zagged up the side of the hill, overgrown by ferns and trees. The evening sunlight snuck between the trees up here, casting long golden stripes through the dark green. The dappled shadows contrasted against the light and made my eyes strain to see the path ahead of me.

My teeth began to chatter; it was impossible to tell whether it was from the cold or my nerves. I reached out to the trees around me for comfort.

Being surrounded by trees was one of the best things about living in Portland. As a faerie, the trees meant more to me than they did to other people. While the Humdrum couple passing me going the other direction might enjoy their shade or color or the way they swayed in the wind, I could feel them stretching above me into the sky and below me into the earth, and could almost make out their thoughts as they spoke to one another. Having them near reminded me that the world had been around for a long time and not much had really changed.

People had survived meetings with the Faerie Queen before. I would, too.

The path led to a sharp turn onto the old stone bridge. If I went left, I could cross it and continue the path up into the forest. If I went forward, I'd run into a guardrail; right was nothing but a damp rock cliff face covered in lichen and moss.

I turned to the dead end and pulled my wand out of my hair, which I'd managed to tame a bit by using copious amounts of argan oil, and glanced behind me. The path was abandoned. I traced my name with my wand tip against the rock face.

Olivia Feye.

It seemed for a moment as though nothing had happened. Then, moss started growing along the lines I'd traced, creeping along like vines until my name appeared in soft green letters.

Proceed, a soft voice inside my head said, and I put my hand flat against the rock and pushed, like the note that had appeared under my pillow this morning had instructed. The solid stone gave way beneath my palm, and a door-sized section of cliff face crumbled beneath my hand. I closed my eyes as chunks of rock and lichen started falling all around me like a waterfall made of earth.

I stepped forward.

The thundering roar of Multnomah Falls abruptly faded to a soft rushing behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the crumbling wall was gone. In its place stood a pretty arched silver door carved with birch trees. Turning to face front again, I was met with an image I'd only known through my mom's stories of parties she'd attended with my dad.