The Curious Curse of Faerywood Falls

by Blythe Baker

  I breathed a small sigh of relief.

  “You must be awfully shaken up,” the sheriff said. “I’m sorry he came after you like that.”

  “Me, too…” I said.

  “If I might ask, why did he show up here tonight? What problem did he have with you that drove him to hurt you?” he asked.

  I scratched my chin and sighed. “I found out about some problems he and his wife had been having, and he didn’t want that information to be released to the public,” I said.

  The sheriff’s brow furrowed. “I guess I’ll need you to come down to the station with me for questioning. Not that I think you’re a suspect,” he said quickly, holding his hands up. “I saw him attack you and then collapse. As weird as it all is…you didn’t raise a hand to him, so you’re innocent. You’ve got my witness account.”

  That was a relief.

  The sheriff walked me back to his car, where he opened the front seat and let me sit down inside. When he turned his back to call the station to send an ambulance over, Athena slipped into the car and curled up at my feet.

  The ambulance came to collect the body, and the sheriff drove me to the police station. I answered some questions and then he took me home.

  The days that followed were uncomfortable. Not only did the sheriff have to call with more and more follow-up questions, even more than when I’d found Olivia’s body, but everyone in town seemed to know what happened. Most offered their condolences for having to go through what I did, but some seemed suspicious. I’d now been connected somehow with four deaths in Faerywood Falls, all of which had happened in the last two months, the time since I’d moved into town.

  I was working at the antique shop one afternoon when my cell phone rang.

  “Hello?” I asked, trying to balance a stack of cloth napkins in one hand and a thick encyclopedia in the other.

  “Hello, Marianne? It’s Sheriff Garland again.”

  “Sheriff Garland,” I said with a tight smile. “I imagine you must be tired of calling me.”

  “And I am sure you’re tired of hearing from me,” he said. “But I thought you might be interested in speaking with Cain Blackburn about the autopsy.”

  My heart flipped in my chest as I set the antiques down. “Um, yeah, sure. Should I call him or something?”

  “No, I’m here with him and he’s asked to tell you himself,” he said.

  I swallowed nervously as the line went quiet.

  “Hello, Marianne,” the silky voice of Cain Blackburn said.

  My cheeks flushed. “Hi,” I said. “So…what’s going on?”

  “I thought you’d be interested in knowing that we found Mr. Foster’s death was caused by his heart…exploding,” he said.

  The napkins still left in my hand toppled to the floor. “It exploded?” I asked.

  “Indeed,” he said. “It’s something we’ve never seen before, and we’ve found it very strange that both Mr. and Mrs. Foster died due to heart conditions.” There was a note of questioning in his voice and an emphasis on the last part of his sentence that reminded me he was aware something deeper was going on. But with other, non-Gifted ears in the room, he couldn’t say more than that.

  I swallowed nervously. “Do they suspect me again?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” Cain said warmly. “There was no way you could have possibly caused the poor man’s heart to explode like it did, so it’s not even sound logic to try and accuse you.”

  “Can the sheriff hear me, Cain?” I asked quietly.

  “No, don’t worry,” he said.

  “It was a ghost, Cain. He was a ghost speaker, and had the ability to wake ghosts, even the violent ones who’d died grisly deaths. He summoned the ghost that’s been haunting the town, and that ghost killed his wife, who’d been cheating on him. The ghost came to my rescue and she…she shoved her hand into his chest – and – ”

  “How very insightful you are, Marianne Huffler,” he said with a small chuckle. I knew it was to throw off the sheriff, but it helped put me at ease, too. “Well, you can rest easy knowing that we can put this all behind us after the funeral. Nasty business, these deaths. Hopefully our little town will be able to experience some peace and quiet again.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “The ghost is gone now.”

  “Very good. You have a nice day as well. Here, the sheriff wants to speak with you again,” Cain said.

  “Marianne?” the sheriff asked a moment later. “Yes, I just wanted you to know that the death’s been declared natural, so there’s nothing you have to worry about. Of course I knew as much already, but I’m sure you’re relieved. I mean, it’s not like it could’ve been anything else. How could someone make anybody’s heart explode? It’s unheard of.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Thanks for letting me know, Sheriff.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Now you just get back to your life, okay? And stay outta trouble.”

  There was some bite to those last words. He wasn’t being unkind. Just nervous.

  “Of course,” I said. “You won’t hear a peep from me again if I have anything to say about it.”

  My aunt and cousin were more protective of me now than they ever were.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have left you there,” Bliss said over and over one night when we were out on their back deck enjoying a bonfire. “I just knew if I left, you’d get yourself in trouble, and that’s exactly what happened.”

  “For the last time, Bliss…if you had stayed, who knows how the ghost would’ve reacted? I think she only listened to me because we were alone,” I said.

  Bliss rolled her eyes and stomped off back into the house.

  “What concerns me more, though, is that these incidents are appearing stranger and stranger to those who are not Gifted,” Aunt Candace said to me. “First, it was Burt, who was killed by Silvia. Next, it was Olivia, who was found in a graveyard. Then her husband suddenly dies the same way? And you’re connected to all four deaths,” she said. Her dark, glossy hair was highlighted by the flames, painting it in shades of amber and gold. “Sooner or later, people are going to start questioning things and that won’t be good for anyone involved.”

  “But you aren’t Gifted,” I said. “And you know.”

  “It’s different when you’re related to them,” Aunt Candace said. “Not everyone is. In fact, I don’t think most people in Faerywood Falls are. I could be wrong but there are still a lot of people who don’t know about you guys and your powers.”

  I sighed, staring down into my cup of hot cocoa. “I know,” I said. “It was too close for comfort. When the sheriff ran up to me that night, I was sure he’d seen the ghost, and I was trying desperately to figure out what in the world I was gonna say to him.”

  “It’s good you didn’t have to,” Aunt Candace said. “He probably would’ve locked you up, unable to explain it all.” She offered a small smile from across the fire. “All I’m saying is that you need to be more careful. These things could easily get out of hand and attract too much attention. Magic isn’t always known for its subtlety.”

  “I’m learning that…” I said.

  Bliss returned, having finished pouting. “The council of eleven isn’t all that happy with you, either,” she said. “They’re starting to suspect that you have more powers than what you’re letting on.”

  “All I know how to do is talk to Athena and apparently see ghosts,” I said. “Although…”

  “Although what?” Bliss asked.

  I smirked. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this ghost ability. I really don’t want it. But the magic that’s used to control it…I’m starting to recognize it inside of me. Speaking to Athena is something I do all the time, so I can’t recognize where it’s coming from. But the ghost ability uses a lot of magic. It’s like comparing fireflies to flames; one is a lot brighter than the others.”

  “Okay, I guess I’m following,” Bliss said. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Well, the ghos
t ability works differently than the beast speaking. It’s almost like a different magic altogether or a different branch from the same tree. Does that make sense? You wouldn’t pick an apple the same way you’d pick a pineapple, right?”

  “Pineapples grow in the ground, but yeah, I think I follow the analogy,” Bliss said.

  “What if instead of just using the gifts…I could pick them like fruit? Or like stones on a beach? And not just use them, but set them down somewhere else, too?”

  “Are you saying you might have figured out a way to give Mrs. Bickford her gift back?” Aunt Candace asked.

  “In theory, I think I have,” I said. “The advantage of having different abilities is that I can sense the difference between them. If they’re separate from one another, I shouldn’t be able to just use them, but detach them from myself as well.”

  “It’s just a theory, though,” Bliss said.

  “True,” I agreed. “But I won’t be sure unless I try it.”

  I glanced at the flames that were crackling merrily in the summer night.

  “This would all have been much easier if I could just find that magic book,” I said.

  “Maybe someday,” Bliss said. “But for now you seem to be doing fine on your own.”

  “I guess,” I said. “I still have so much to learn, don’t I?”

  “That’s an understatement,” Bliss said with a grin.

  16

  I practiced for several days before wandering over toward Mrs. Bickford’s cabin. I wasn’t positive it was going to work, but I had to try, and hoped that she would let me try. I had no idea if I was doing any of this magic stuff right in the first place, but it wasn’t like I had anyone around to teach me anyways, so I was doing the best with what I had.

  I saw Mr. Bickford sitting at a picnic bench beneath a tree right beside the lake, and I veered off my path to his wife’s cabin to sit down beside him.

  “Hi, Mr. Bickford,” I said to him.

  He didn’t look at me.

  “We haven’t met properly yet. My name is Marianne Huffler and I…” I trailed off, seeing the sadness in his long face. “I wanted to apologize for what happened. I hope you know that I never meant to steal your wife’s ability to speak with you and see you. And that’s why I thought you should be the first to know that I’m planning to give that back to her. Today, if I can.”

  Mr. Bickford turned and looked at me for the first time.

  “You really think you can?” he asked. His voice was somewhat distant like Isabella’s, but it was more like hearing him from the next room. Was it because he was more closely tied to his life here?

  I nodded. “I think so, yes. Would you like to come with me so we can test it out?”

  Mr. Bickford studied me for a moment before turning and swinging his legs back over the bench and standing, adjusting the front of his sweater vest. “Let’s go.”

  I smiled as I started back up toward my landlady’s cabin.

  I knocked three times before she answered.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her face growing sour. “What do you want?”

  “I’m hoping that I can give you your gift back,” I said.

  Mrs. Bickford’s eyes widened as she opened the door a little more. “Do you mean that?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Yes. Your husband is here with me,” I said, gesturing to my right where he stood with me on the porch. “He’s going to stay here so we can see if this works or not.”

  “I’m certainly willing to try,” Mrs. Bickford said.

  “Alright,” I said. “Hold out your hand to me.”

  She did, and I took it in my own.

  Her fingers were cold, and I thought I felt a slight shakiness. Whether that was her nervousness or mine, I tried to ignore it.

  “So, what happens now?” she asked.

  “I just need to concentrate…” I said. I closed my eyes and focused inward. I pushed aside my normal thoughts, focused on my breathing and the rhythm of my heart. It was there that I found the trickle of magic moving through me like a second blood stream. Like the glitter of starlight, I brushed my consciousness up against it.

  Within, I felt distinctly different powers, but it was hard to find where one ended and the other began.

  I concentrated on the memory of Isabella and tried to rekindle the feelings I’d felt when summoning her.

  Something within me glowed brightly, as if responding to my questioning thoughts and memories.

  That was it.

  With my mind’s eye, I reached out toward the gift, and drew it toward the surface of my consciousness, almost like pulling a seashell up from the bottom of the ocean. It was hard, and it kept slipping through my fingers.

  Eventually, though, I had the gift securely in my mind.

  I focused on Mrs. Bickford’s hand in mine, but as I focused, I thought I could feel another magical presence.

  Hers.

  Gently, ever so gently, I urged the ability toward her. I didn’t even know how, I just knew that it was working. It throbbed and wriggled in my mind, but I held it tightly.

  And then, as it passed from the magical currents running through me into hers, it was sucked up like a ball down a drain.

  Mrs. Bickford gasped, and my eyes snapped open.

  She was gaping at the face of her husband, who was staring down at her.

  For a brief moment, I saw him turn to me and smile, but then he faded, gone like a mist on the water at the first light of dawn.

  “Oh, Jim…” she said, her eyes welling with tears as she moved closer to him. She held her arms out to him and embraced what appeared to be nothing. I knew she couldn’t touch him but to see him was clearly bringing her great joy. “Oh, I thought I’d lost you forever…” she said.

  She opened her eyes and looked over at me.

  The next thing I knew, she’d thrown her arms around me and was holding me tightly against her.

  “Thank you…” she said in a tight voice. “Thank you so much.”

  She would never know what a relief it was for me to not have that gift any longer. But all I did was smile and hug her back. “You’re quite welcome. I’m sorry it ever happened in the first place.”

  Mrs. Bickford stepped back and wiped her eyes. “Oh, look at me, crying like the silly woman I am. I’m sorry I was so angry. I just…didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I felt awful about taking it in the first place, even if it did end up proving useful in the end.”

  “Useful?” she asked, arching a brow. “Useful how?”

  I gave her a very edited version of the story of Evan and his wife. “But because I was able to see the ghost, I was able to help put her spirit to rest,” I said.

  “And she was the one plaguing the town?” Mrs. Bickford asked. “Yes, that makes sense to me.”

  “I guess at least in that way, me having your gift temporarily was beneficial for everyone,” I said.

  “I see,” Mrs. Bickford said. “So…if you were to somehow take my ability to see ghosts again, would you be able to give it back the same way?”

  “I think so, yeah,” I said.

  She looked down, contemplating what I thought were the tiles under her feet.

  “Alright,” she said, looking back up at me. “For the good of all Faerywood Falls, I’ve decided that if you ever need the ability to speak with ghosts once again, you may borrow my power.” She winked. “As long as you always make sure to give it back to me.”

  I smiled at her. “I appreciate the generous offer and I’ll certainly keep it in mind.”

  I left her to converse happily with her husband at that point. She was happier than I’d seen her in a long time and I felt like we’d finally sort of crossed a boundary between the two of us. We’d shared something and that had brought us closer. Somewhat.

  I walked back into my cabin and collapsed contentedly onto my bed. The blankets were warm from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

  Athena
was curled up at the end and she opened one eye to look at me.

  I take it everything worked out, then? She asked.

  “Yep,” I said. “It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.”

  I rolled over and looked at the fox.

  “You know…the only reason I can talk to you is because I did the same thing to that poor woman at the gas station that I did to Mrs. Bickford. I can’t imagine she’s all that happy with me, either,” I said.

  Athena lifted her head. Are you saying you want to give her gift back, too?

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Well, I mean, I guess I kind of do in a way. I don’t know. I just feel bad that I stole it. But I definitely don’t want to lose the ability to speak with you, no way…”

  The choice is simple, then, Athena said. You either keep it and we can keep communicating or you give it back and we stop.

  “First of all, I wouldn’t even know how to give back that power,” I said. “It works totally differently than speaking to ghosts. I can’t explain it but it’s just…different. Like playing a flute and playing a trombone are both ways to play music but they’re played completely differently from one another.”

  Fair point, Athena said.

  “So how I gave back the ghost speaking power may not be how I have to give back this power,” I said. “Which I’m not doing. At least not yet. Ugh, I don’t know…” I said.

  I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  “If only there was a spell that would let me copy these abilities instead of stealing them,” I said. “That would make everyone happy, right? That way I’d never have to lose the ability to talk to you but neither would that woman lose the power to talk to her animals.”

  I suppose it’s possible, Athena said. As I’ve said, magic can be awfully strange.

  “I’ve got to try,” I said. “I’m gonna see if there is a way to do that.”

  I’m sure she’d appreciate it, Athena said.

  I rolled over onto my stomach and stared at the tiny fox curled up on my bed.

  “You know, Athena…you’re the best friend that I’ve ever had,” I said.