Rose Bound Magic

by Caitlin Crowe

  A fortnight later, the final visitor rose, releasing the boy’s hand for a final time. Alone again in his room, his mother approached his bed and brushed her lips against his forehead. “It’s okay – you may go now. I’ll survive.” Leaving the room to get fresh water for the basin, she paused to look back at his prone figure on the bed. “Why,” she thought, “if I didn’t know better, I would think he was just sleeping.”

  Upon her removal from the room, the dark figure the boy had been steadily ignoring approached his bed. “Time to go, child,” Death croaked, beckoning the boy with a long-crooked claw.

  “No.”

  Sighing, Death lowered itself onto the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t plan on coming for you for many, many years, boy. But now that I am here, you cannot stay.” Staring down at the boy, he recalled all those that had come to say goodbye. Death hadn’t meant to call this boy now – he was supposed to do so much. “I cannot let you stay, it is beyond my power, but if there is something else you want, I may be able to help.”

  For the first time, the boy looked at Death. “Really?”

  Death nodded.

  “I want to keep on helping,” the boy mumbled, wistful. “I don’t want to leave because I haven’t helped enough.”

  Tapping his claw against the boy’s leg, Death thought long and hard. Struck by an idea, he offered his hand to the boy as he rose. “I have one option for you; otherwise, you have to move on with me. Come along; it’s time to leave.” Grabbing his hand, the boy rose, and they started towards the door. “Don’t look back – it isn’t good for a soul to see it’s body, especially for one as young as you.

  Together they strolled through the house and down the field to the slow-flowing water of the River Sticks. Stopping, Death turned towards the boy and withdrew a small pine cone from within his robes. “I cannot bring you back to your old life so you may help others, but I can breathe new life into you so you may continue to help in new ways. If you want, I can put your soul in here –” Death lifted the pinecone, “and plant you here on this bank. I want you to understand it will take a very long time for you to grow, but someday you will be big enough. And when your branches stretch out towards the sun, and your trunk is strong, you will help more than you have yet. Your roots will dip into the cool water, protecting fish from hungry birds. Your branches will provide shade and protection to all that sit below. What once was your flesh, will be carefully taken and stewed. The tea made with your bark will heal those who drink it – those who are sick must only come here to get some relief. Eventually, you will die here as well – no living thing can escape me. But you will have led a long life, and helped many.”

  Death looked at the boy, who was looking at him intently. “I cannot give you more life, but I can give you a different one.”

  The boy looked around him, first at the house he had left for the last time, and then at the peaceful water flowing beside him. Still staring at the water, the boy nodded, giving his consent.

  “Give me your hand.” Death cupped his clawed hand under the boys and placed the pinecone in his palm – and then there was only Death standing beside the slow-moving water, looking at a small pinecone cupped in his hand. Slowly he knelt and dug a hole, gently laying the pinecone down as if it rested in a grave.

  Once planted, Death stood and left.

  It would be a long time before the first shoot would push through the dirt and breathe its first gasp of air, and even longer still before its roots would shelter small water creatures and branches would stretch across the sky, but when it did, others would be helped. The small beasts of the earth and the people who visited would all be helped in their own little way.

  Confused, Beast considered her. “I didn’t hear a name in there except – ” he gasped at her, looking betrayed. “You don’t want me to go by Death, do you?”

  Squinting at him, she realized he was serious. “Absolutely not; that’d be an even worse name than Fluffy Butt. I didn’t say the name as I wanted you to hear the story first. But if you want to go by Death…” she trailed off as his protests rose in volume. “That’s what I thought. Now, the boy’s name, and thus the name of the tree, is Alder.”

  Bell watched him roll the name around his mouth, tasting it and seeing how it felt when formed on his tongue. Breathless, she waited – the story had always been one of her favorites. The kindness of the boy always left an ache in her chest afterward, but it hadn’t stopped her from requesting it be told again and again.

  “I like the name,” he hesitated, “but I don’t think it’s a good fit for me. I’m not like the child; I murdered, not cared for.”

  “You did not murder! You were taken advantage of when you were weak, and something horrible happened. But that was a long time ago. Since I’ve known you, you have done nothing but be sincere and care for me when I needed it. You’ve escaped death; you’re living a new life. Something terrible happened to the little boy, but there was an after, and he got to choose what that looked like.”

  Beast still looked at her full of doubt.

  “Look, Alder, you’ve been here for so long, with virtually no other influences. The person you are now is who you are inside. There was no one to convince you to act any other way than the way you would naturally. And you are kind and sincere and want to help. Those things are all your own and have always been.”

  Bell received a baleful glare from him, she assumed because she had gone ahead and called him Alder even though he had yet to consent.

  “I’m not sure I believe you, but I do like the story. I like that the boy can’t go back but instead decides to stay and do something small for those around him. And if I was a plant, I wouldn’t mind being a tall tree.” Once he finished mulling it over, he turned towards Bell. “I think you just chose my name, Belladonna.”

  Smiling, Bell reached out her hand. “Hello Alder, I’m Belladonna.”

  Chapter Eight

  Bell couldn’t remember the last time she had been in such a foul mood. So far, she had kicked over one trashcan and stubbed her toe kicking a door shut, and she had only been awake for half an hour.

  Since Bell and Alder had started sharing a room, they rose together in the morning, encouraged by an enthusiastic Fluffy. They didn’t speak of it, but Bell knew his night terrors had diminished in quality if not in quantity since she had started sharing his bed. He no longer thrashed or screamed in his sleep.

  This morning, however, he hadn’t risen with her, still asleep, albeit fretfully. Frowning, Bell checked his forehead and realized he had a low-grade fever. She wondered if he was getting sick. Bell didn’t know if they could fall ill here since they couldn’t die.

  Deciding not to wake him, just in case he could get ill, she rose and went into her rooms to grab her mirror. Bell made herself comfortable and tapped the glass three times, waiting for the swirling fog to subside.

  The entire family stood waiting for Poppy to open one of the many presents before her. The front door slammed open, and Oppa, the baker, entered, carrying a cake as decadent as any served to royalty. “Happy birthday, Poppy! Look!” he called out in greeting, his smile matching those of the kids; pure and loving.

  The children ran to Oppa, each chattering over the others in a bid for attention, their mother forgotten.

  “Hold on!” he commanded in his deep voice. “Let me set the cake down first! I worked very hard on it, you know!”

  All the kids backed away, too concerned with the sugary confection’s safety. Oppa sat the cake on the only clear spot on the table and turned to great Papa and Geranium. Before he could address the kids again, who were crowding around the table in awe of the cake, Poppy grabbed his hand. “You really didn’t have to, Oppa. There’s no way we can afford this.”

  His face turned beet red, but his voice was steady when he replied. “Don’t worry about it, Poppy. This is my present for you and everyone else. I couldn’t think of anything else to give you.”

  Poppy blushed, flustered enough to no
t have an immediate response.

  Bell flung the mirror away from her as if it had burned her. Bouncing off a pillow at the other end of the settee, it settled face down.

  Bell realized this was her sister’s birthday party. She had seen a card one of the kids had made with a questionable twenty-six written in shaky crayon. Twenty-six. Her sister was twenty-six. Looking up at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room, Bell did the math over and over, refusing to believe what she knew was true.

  Right before she had entered the forest in her bid to find her father, Poppy had celebrated her twenty-third birthday. Sickness rolled around in her stomach, an angry beast clawing to get out. She had been trapped here for three years – at least three years’ worth of time outside. Again and again, she was reminded that time didn’t behave here, but the ramifications had never struck her as hard as they did now. She didn’t know how many days she had been here, but she was positive that she hadn’t been here three years’ worth.

  As she thought about all the moments she had missed during her incarceration - all the birthdays and time with her nieces and nephews, the time with Papa she should be collecting before he lost his mind forever – fury began to replace the sickness.

  Fury at the Fae for trapping her father, who was old and frail and didn’t even remember that a magical Palace deep in the woods shouldn’t be entered. How dare Their price be so high, trapping her here for all eternity to save the only person she had.

  Glaring around her exorbitant sitting room, hatred for the Fae entered her heart. No matter how they colored this place, she hated it, and she hated them with all her being. They had already taken so much from her, and they would continue to do so until she had nothing left.

  Unable to stand being in such a place for another moment, she stormed out, giving the small trashcan a massive kick, making it flip over with a dull thud. Unsatisfied, Bell stormed out her door, slamming it behind her on her way to the kitchen.

  Alder was already snacking from the tray on the kitchen counter. He must have risen while she was watching her family and headed downstairs instead of interrupting her.

  Glancing at the tray Bell saw arranged fruit, each slice more perfect than the last. Snorting derisively, she turned to the pastry tray and saw an array of delicate confections. The sight of them reminded her of the glorious birthday cake, and she turned away to get a glass of chilled juice. She slammed down a cup before tipping the jug, incensed. Misjudging her force, the juice missed the glass, spreading over the counter.

  “Damn it!” she yelled.

  Alder reached over, using a cloth to wipe up the sticky mess. Once done, he turned to her glowering form. “Belladonna,” he asked, his voice low like he was approaching a wild animal. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she muttered, still staring at the spot on the counter where the juice had been.

  “I don’t believe that, not for one second,” he replied, his voice calm.

  Anger bubbled up in her throat, fighting to make its way out. “I’m stuck here, that’s what,” she flung at him, ignoring the twinge of regret she felt when he flinched. “I’ve been stuck here for three years apparently, and I’ve missed so much with my family! My sisters, my nieces and nephew, my father! I’ve missed their suffering, and I haven’t been able to comfort them! You may be used to this feeling, but I’m not! My family isn’t dead – the people I care about aren’t dead yet like yours! They’re still very much alive, and I get to watch them age and die from the other side of a hand mirror! I hate this place! I loathe everything about it!”

  Storming towards the door, she refused to acknowledge the broken look in Alder’s eyes as she pushed past, and he didn’t try to stop her.

  Fluffy waited by the door to be let out. “Oh, get out of the way!” she snarled at him, stepping out and then turning to angrily kick the door shut.

  Still fuming at her life, she stalked off across the grounds with no place in mind.

  When all her ire had been walked out, Bell stopped and collapsed on the grass where she stood, curling up to rest her head on her knees. Bell didn’t get angry often – it just wasn’t in her nature. But when she did, everyone who crossed her path was in danger of having her wrath directed at them.

  Her anger gone, Bell began to feel disgusted with her behavior. Besides her aching toe where she had stubbed it kicking the kitchen door, she knew she had hurt both Alder’s and Fluffy’s feelings.

  Apologizing to Fluffy was easy – she would just offer him the scraps from her dinner tonight. Alder, on the other hand… she groaned, seeing his betrayed and broken expression again floating on her closed eyelids. Guilt flooded her as she remembered the hateful accusations she had thrown at him. To make matter’s worse, Bell knew how his regret ate at him daily, and yet she had attacked him at his weakest point.

  Dread entered the mix of emotions in her chest. What if he couldn’t forgive her? Would they spend forever avoiding each other, no longer friends? Pushing the thought from her head, Bell stood up, determined to return and beg Alder for his forgiveness. She couldn’t survive this place without him. Their moments together were irreplaceable.

  Bell glanced around her, trying to get her bearings. The grounds were so extensive that she often got lost if she wasn’t paying attention. In her rage, she had wandered blindly, and Bell didn’t recognize anything near her. The house wasn’t even on the horizon, making it impossible for her to head in its general directions. Just another reason to hate this place.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a large topiary caught her attention. Turning towards it, she was perplexed to see the hedge maze that housed the flower at its center. She had spent hours looking for this place again but had never been able to locate it.

  Advancing, she searched for the entrance into the labyrinth. Finding it, she entered, immediately enclosed in the dark shaded foliage, stepping quickly over the gravel path. It occurred to Bell that the hedges seemed to have grown taller and thicker, unlike everything else on the grounds that had stayed as they were.

  After twisting and turning, Bell reached the center. Approaching the plant, a memory was jogged, and Bell recognized it. “You’re a rose!” she exclaimed out loud, circling the lone flower left on the bush. All the other buds had fallen off. It was general knowledge that no one had seen a rose in several decades - they were extinct. The only image Bell had ever seen was a rough sketch in the back of her father’s tome of plants, but it had been without color.

  Fascinated, Bell leaned closer. The blooming flower looked worn, the edges of the outermost petals tinged in black. A single petal had fallen away onto the dirt of the bed. Reaching down, Bell fingered its velvety softness.

  “I see you have made your way back here,” a voice behind her said.

  Jumping Bell turned to find Sidero languidly strolling up a path towards her. “I wondered… you had found this place once when even Beast, in all his time here, has not. Yet here you are a second time, having found something that should be hidden from you. How very curious…” Watching Sidero circle her, Bell felt like prey being sized up by a hunter.

  Bell clenched her fist tightly around the petal. “What are you doing here? Why did you come to visit?”

  “Why, can I not simply come to see you, my dear?” she asked, using one unusually long and pale finger to stroke Bell’s cheek. She shuddered and took a step back.

  Stopping her prowl, Sidero frowned and cocked her head at Bell. “Is it not obvious? I am here to grant you your second favor. I could feel you calling from where I was, and I came as quickly as possible. However, I did not expect you to be here,” she said, gesturing around her.

  “I didn’t call you, and I don’t have a favor to ask a creature like you,” the bite in her words was lost, drowned out by the confusion she couldn’t hide. Bell knew she had been angry and even cruel to Alder this morning, but not once had she called out for Sidero.

  Perched on the bench facing the rose bush, Sidero patted the space nex
t to her. “Sit.” Rolling her eyes in an oddly human manner at Bell’s hesitation, she patted the seat again. “I will not bite you.”

  Bell approached, her muscles primed to flee at the slightest provocation, and perched as far away as she could from the Fae woman. Coldness radiated off her skin, and Bell didn’t want to be too close to the icy blast.

  “Your anger and pain were so loud that I could feel it, even with the great distance between us. I came because although your brain might not have a request, your soul does Belladonna.”

  Bell blinked at her stupidly, unsure what Sidero meant.

  Changing topics, Sidero gestured around them. “Do you know why this place is special?” she asked.

  Unclenching her fist Bell stared down at the mangled petal, and then raised her eyes to look at the tall, growing walls that surrounded their bench. “I think… I think time occurs here, on some level, even though everywhere else each day is a perfect reset of the day before.”

  Satisfied, Sidero nodded. “You caught on, and rather quickly. Even with all our magic, even the Fae King cannot keep time out forever. To have the rest of the grounds exist without time’s touch, this small plot must continue to move on, albeit at a much slower pace than normal. It should be hidden from all residents, but Fluffy can find it – something to do with him being an animal. You finding it is a surprise. You seem to be full of surprises.”