The Lost Heir

by Allison Whitmore

“You were turning blue. I didn't know what to do,” said Seth.

  “No, I mean in the sky,” she said, fully catching her breath. What had choked her and then suddenly stopped? What was going on?

  Seth turned around. “It's rain.”

  But it wasn't rain, Isabella realized. It looked more like falling fireflies. Some were golden. Some blue. Some were white.

  “Or maybe not,” said Seth.

  “Maybe this is why people have to be off the street at a certain time.” Isabella looked over Seth's shoulder. There were no more people. The shops had closed. But the little lights grew brighter and brighter. “What are they?”

  “Happy solstice, sisters,” she heard several tiny voices whisper.

  “Did you hear that?” Isabella asked Seth. He did not turn to her. Instead, he stared at the little blinking lights in front of them.

  A regal-sounding voice as delicate as thin glass spoke. “The night is precious and one with the earth. We give thanks for the world around us and the world up above. We bless our sisters...”

  “And brothers...” a different higher, sweeter voice whispered.

  “And brothers,” the regal voice continued, “who protect the peace and the goodness in this world and hold off the bad.”

  Isabella poked Seth in the arm to catch his attention, but it did not work. One of the little lights suddenly buzzed toward them from down the dark road, as if it had homed in on their presence.

  “Seth, I think we should go.” She tugged on his sweatshirt. “I don't think we're supposed to be here.”

  Seth did not answer her. He started walking toward the bridge where a large cluster of the little lights formed.

  “Seth, what are you doing?” Isabella asked through gritted teeth, too afraid to follow him. She trained her eyes on the little lights and gasped when she realized what they really were, or at least, what they looked like. They looked to be very small people with wings, two of which had landed on Seth's shoulders. He continued toward the growing cluster of light on the bridge. This could be a trick from that illusionist person, but she did not want to chance it.

  Isabella looked up at the street sign at the corner of the shop where they'd been standing. It read Bridge H. “You were right, Seth. This is the way,” she muttered, afraid to raise her voice too loudly, unsure of what might happen if she disturbed the little creatures. This meant that the Vanderpoles were just three blocks over. She needed to get Seth away from those things, but she had no idea how or what to do. She had no choice but to follow him.

  The little lights buzzed around her. “The last diadem child has come to bless this solstice, everyone.” Four little figures smiled and turned around her.

  “I'm sorry, but I'm just trying to get my friend. We didn't mean to interrupt anything.”

  “The empaths are the ones who are afraid of us. It is not us who are afraid of them. They are superstitious. They think that they must be at home, or they will upset the balance of the blessing.”

  “I think they're right,” another one of the creatures said. She had black hair and nearly white eyes.

  “Blessing for what?” asked Isabella.

  Another little creature smiled. “You are here with us. We are so glad.”

  “What's wrong with my friend?” Isabella looked at Seth, who still hadn't turned in her direction.

  “He's home, too,” explained a little creature with brown hair and what looked like a deep dimple on one cheek.

  “I don't understand.” Isabella wondered if it was one of them who'd choked her a second ago. She didn't want to find out, so she tried to remain calm.

  “Where are the others? The ones the queen chose for you.”

  “I don't know what you mean,” Isabella said.

  A yellow-haired little creature ticked her tongue at her friend. “Olimanda, hush. The Queen Mother is about to speak. She'll be here soon.”

  The four fairies fluttered their lashes. “Oh! We should bring you to the Queen Mother,” one said.

  They all grinned. Two of them clapped their hands. She saw their faces. Brown, tan, pale. Their hair light and dark, just like people. They looked human but so small. Like creatures from a children's story, both beautiful and frightening.

  “Come, come,” the yellow-haired one said.

  Not wanting to offend the seemingly gentle little creatures, Isabella moved forward toward them.

  She passed Seth and looped her arm through his, so she could pull him forward with her. “I'm not doing this alone this time.” He was still locked in a place she could not see, but he followed.

  The light-encompassed creatures parted much like the crowd had when the illusionist called her forward. A creature with tan skin and long dark red hair floated midair, just like the others. Her eyes were large and her mouth shaped like a bow. She wore a tiny silver crown that shimmered with tiny jewels.

  “Welcome, child,” the queen said. “The moon is almost here.”

  “But there is no real moon down here.”

  Then the sky seemed to part, and air rushed in from outside. “Cover your mouths.” Seth did so without hesitation, as if on autopilot. Isabella did, too, confused. “The air from above mingled with ours can be a shock.” The moon beat down on them. “We see the sunlight catch the moon, and we give a great thanks to all that we were given.”

  “I'm Catholic. I celebrate Christmas,” said Isabella. She'd been taught to embrace and be curious about all cultures, but these creatures weren't even human.

  “This is about a celebration of the earth. You celebrate life just the same as we fair folk do. We are connected as one. Human, fair folk, and empath. I am Queen Kendra, and you are welcome here with us, diadem child. As is your fair folk guardian and the ones we have aligned you with.”

  “You're not talking about him, are you?” Isabella asked. “He's not a fair folk. He's just a guy in this sorta-okay band that my grandmother hired to play at my family's hotel.”

  “He is not pure fair folk, or he could never live among you. He only has a strand of our blood in him, but it is enough,” said the queen. She turned around and began to chant something Isabella did not understand. The air trembled. Then the lights grew brighter and brighter until everything went dark.

  “How did we get back here?” Seth asked suddenly. There was no one around them anymore, not even the fair folk.

  “He's coming.”

  “It's them,” Isabella said. “They're warning us.” It wasn't the voice she'd heard in her mind all of those times, but it did sound like the voice in the room where they'd put on those wetsuits.

  “Who?”

  “Those fairy things.”

  Seth frowned. She thought it was because he had no idea what she was talking about, so she gasped when he said his next words, his face hovering close to hers. “What happened before?” he asked, touching her neck.

  She licked her lips and looked down, letting him worry over her for once. It actually did feel kind of nice. “It was like someone was choking me.”

  “Do you think it was a person?”

  Isabella did not know why, but she nodded. It was a person.

  Then she saw the blackness again behind Seth much more clearly this time. It was a man with a black top hat and a raven on his shoulder walking through flames. His eyes were violet. His black hair had a streak that matched his flashing eyes. Ice cold fear draped over her. The man’s presence was overwhelming. She wondered if Seth noticed, too. “Seth,” she whispered. But before he could react, the man was gone, too.

  “We need to get out of here,” said Seth.

  “Come on,” said Isabella. “I remember how to get to the Vanderpoles.”

  “Be safe,” she heard a fair-folk voice whisper and smiled as the warmth from the creatures overtook her.

  They knocked on the door of 1515 Bridge K that was carved with a giant V; a lynx was etched at the base of it. The Vanderpoles's moderate-size stone house, decorated with violet lights and green bows, was set back on t
heir property several paces. “Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpole?” Seth called. No one answered. They knocked again. “Hello?” Still nothing. “Not again.” Seth moaned just as the door opened to reveal Mrs. Vanderpole.

  “Oh dear, look who it is. The Foxworthy heir.” Isabella's eyes went wide. These people knew things. Maybe they could help her find the lost heir. Mrs. Vanderpole wore a hunter-green dress and violet earrings. She ushered them inside. “I told my sister you would be coming. She is thrilled as a morphling on a Tuesday.”

  Not getting the reference, she and Seth shared looks of confusion, but their expressions quickly melted into contentment when they entered the peaceful surroundings.

  The room twinkled with warmth and light different than any they'd seen outside with the fair folk. It was a home. There was an entire wall of family pictures at the back of the room, and a two-sided sofa in the center, plush and comfortable. Beneath it was the fluffiest-looking deep-violet rug. Near a large window toward the back of the house, a long table was filled with silver, covered warming trays, hiding whatever it was inside. Plates were stacked and ready to be taken. They did a buffet on the Winter Solstice. For some reason, that made Isabella smile.

  “We have guests for the Wintertide, dear,” she said to her husband and then eyed their outfits with concern. “Franklin will be home soon. We're having dumplings, ham, roast duck, potato pancakes, whipped cheese, candied nuts, and violet grapes. It’s so great to have you here for the season before the portal closes at the New Year.”

  “That’s almost two weeks away,” Seth whispered to her. “It’s fine.”

  Isabella shrugged it off. She was fully aware of the ticking clock on them. She just didn’t want to think about it at the moment. She was too exhausted.

  “Don't forget the plum buns,” Mr. Vanderpole said, entering the room with a basket of Isabella's favorite treat.

  “Plum buns! I love plum buns,” she said, forgetting all about portals for the time being. “I've only ever seen them at Cake n' Honey, a restaurant I go to near the hotel.”

  They shared glances and small smiles. Mr. Vanderpole seemed in much better spirits than when she'd first met him. He extended the basket to her. “Miss Foxworthy,” he said as Isabella reached out to take one. “And to her young man.”

  Isabella stopped mid-bite. It was too heavenly to stop and correct him. She finished her plum bun. Seth hadn't bothered correcting him, either, and was already reaching for a second treat.

  “Happy solstice, Isabella,” he said before taking another bite.

  “Happy solstice, Seth. Do you think we'll ever find the others?”

  Seth gulped down the rest of the plum bun and lifted his lashes. “We will,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of her knotting hair behind her ear. It didn't seem to be as perfect as it had in the room with the wetsuits. She noticed for the first time that Seth no longer looked like the Adonis version of himself, just like regular Seth with a little violet in his hair. But that didn't seem to be special for the people down here. Most of them had violet on their personages, as if it were a mark of being part of this world.

  Isabella swallowed. His gesture confused her. She waited for Seth to move away, but he stood still. He just kept looking at her. She had no idea what to say until she uttered, “Your hands are sticky.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He dropped his hand and looked around for a napkin. Isabella sighed. She didn't know if she wanted anything from Seth or even if he was giving it. She knew right now that she didn't have time to think about him that way. She too many thoughts to make sense of.

  Mr. Vanderpole put on a fire and read them his favorite poem. It was about a viciously frightening creature known as the Yule Cat. Apparently, this creature prowled Christmas Eve night looking for parents who did not properly clothe their children and gobbled them up. He explained that it was an Icelandic folktale. Mrs. Vanderpole corrected him, however, giving credit to the fair folk in the north. Mr. Vanderpole grumbled at that and went to stoke the fire.

  Mrs. Vanderpole offered her a red drink. “A yuletide punch?” Isabella took a sip. It was warm, spicy, and sweet. She loved it. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you.”

  “After dinner,” Mrs. Vanderpole said, “you two can have baths, and we'll lay out some clothes for you.”

  “Oh, thank you, but these are just fine.”

  She laughed. “No, dears. You are our guests.”

  “Can you tell us anything about the lost heir?” Isabella asked, looking between Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpole. Mr. Vanderpole looked away.

  “He lives here underground, but we never see him, dear,” said Mrs. Vanderpole evasively.

  “Do you know about our friends? My brother?” Seth pressed, worrying his lip. Mrs. Vanderpole looked at him sympathetically.

  “All we can tell you is if you don't feel that they are gone or in danger, then they are not. You two are both especially attuned to others, even more than most empaths.” Isabella assumed she meant because she was this “diadem child,” and Seth was supposed to be some kind of protector. That made sense. “What about Theophilus Dodge? Do you know him?”

  “Oh yes, he has that delightful shop,” said Mrs. Vanderpole. “Keystone and Castor are manning it these days. Theophilus hasn't been around for ages.”

  “Keystone and Castor?”

  “The little men from Wish Valley.”

  “But we went by there today, and it was closed.”

  “It's the solstice, dear. Perhaps they closed early. They will be open tomorrow morning, I'm sure.”

  Isabella brightened. Maybe this was the answer. “Do you think they speak to him when he's, you know, not underground?”

  “Oh, I'm sure they do.”

  Isabella did not want to mention to them that Theophilus had been arrested. She really did not know if they could be trusted fully, though they seemed kind. Some things she knew she had to keep close to her heart. “Do you think we could go there tomorrow? Would they talk to us?”

  Mr. Vanderpole went over to the table where he'd left the basket of plum buns and took two for himself. “Those two are nothing but trouble, if you ask me,” he said from across the room.

  “Don't be unkind, dear. You know all Greens are a little different.”

  “Greens?” asked Seth.

  “Yes, Greens of the Valley. Oh, they are having a big bonfire tomorrow night. I nearly forgot. Perhaps they won't be at the shop after all,” said Mrs. Vanderpole. “But I think you should try to go. Their celebration will be late at night.”

  The Vanderpoles' front door swung open, and a familiar, fair-haired boy entered. His arms were full of gifts. “Happy solstice, everyone!” he said, his deep voice filling the room.

  “Franklin! You made it.” His mother rushed over to embrace her son and help with his packages. She fussed over him and got him some punch. “Just in time for the meal. But wait—where's Aunt Betty?”

  “Betty?”

  Franklin looked at Isabella for the first time since he'd entered. “So they talked you into coming, did they?” His blue eyes danced over her face. She thought she heard Seth grunt beside her but could not be sure.

  Deciding that what she was wearing, rubber shoes and all, made her look dumpy and not like a girl, she turned to Franklin's mother and asked, “Mrs. Vanderpole, would it be okay if we changed before dinner?”

  Mrs. Vanderpole looked at her with sympathetic eyes. Seth seemed irritated to her; she didn’t know if it had to do with her delaying the meal or something else.

  “I want you to know that your friends are all right,” Franklin said.

  “What do you know about it?” Seth asked sharply.

  “I can't say any more.” His father looked at him, his mouth set in a thin line.

  “Can you tell us where they are?”

  “Eating a meal just like this,” he said.

  “Franklin,” his father said, clipped. “Remember your oath.”

  Franklin nodded. Isabella trie
d thinking about her grandmother and her friends. Nothing particularly nasty plagued her mind, other than not knowing; that fact, however, ate at her in a way that she could not control. For some reason, these people could not tell them anything. Perhaps this oath that they took was life or death. Who were they to make them break laws? But they had to know. Maybe if she could get Franklin alone later tonight, she could talk it out of him.

  “We can eat after you change your clothes,” said Mrs. Vanderpole just as someone rapped again on the door.

  “Franklin, will you answer it? It'll be your aunt. She had to come through the tube. Running late.”

  “We all used the tube after the streets closed,” said Franklin. “She's fine. Oh, you may know Betty,” Franklin said as he opened the door. “She works at your hotel.”

  There, standing on the Vanderpole front stoop, was Isabella’s Foxworthy Hotel's favorite cook, Betty Reed. “Anyone care for some corn ‘n’ crab chowder? I know it's not tradition, but I heard someone I know very well might be stopping by, so I took a chance.”

  Isabella grinned. This was going to be a very good night after all.

  As the group settled in together and celebrated new things and old, Isabella Foxworthy, as alone in the world as ever, felt at home again... at least for now.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Little Shop and A Little Man

  Isabella and Seth learned a great deal from Franklin Vanderpole the next morning over breakfast. There were forces hidden in the Violet City that were working against the good of the people, he said over his eggs. And the Violet Fire was the only thing that protected them, he told them as he gulped down his coffee. Being an empath made them vulnerable to darkness more so than most, he added as he put on his coat. The Fire protected that, too, along with their goodwill. It was her great-grandmother's gift to them all. And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived the night before. Betty was not there in the morning; after a few happy goodbyes with the Vanderpoles, Seth and Isabella headed out themselves. They had a lot to do.

  Seth wore loose black cargo pants, a fitted black shirt, and a black jean coat, borrowed from Franklin who apparently wore a lot of black. As they walked together down the Avenue toward Theophilus's shop, Isabella could feel eyes burning into her back. A man in a long trench coat and very tall hat bobbed through the late morning crowd.