by Bebe Balocca
“A-hem!” Paloma cleared her throat abruptly. She stood in the wide doorway to the library in front of soaring walls of leather bound books and wheeled library ladders. Paloma made a sweeping come-inside gesture and said, in a voice dripping with scorn, “If you’re quite done gaping, would you please grace us with your company? It’s not like we have anything else to do today, and, after all, we’ve been expecting you. Oh, wait!” Paloma added, appearing to enjoy delivering her barbed words. “We didn’t expect you at all, did we? And we don’t actually want you here, either.”
“Enough!” Gavin bellowed from his great armchair at the oval library table. “Brock, please direct your friend to a seat.” Brock gave Carmen’s hand one more squeeze and showed her to a red velvet padded chair. Paloma took the chair to Gavin’s left, and Lowell was already seated at his right. Casting her eyes at Paloma, then Gavin, then Lowell, Carmen saw shades of scorn, haughtiness, and animosity. At least Korbin seemed friendly, Carmen noted. He smiled at her as she and Brock sat down.
An expectant silence fell over the room. Gavin spoke first. “Brock, you know as well as any of us that we do not bring mortals into Prescott Woods. We do not reveal our true natures, along with those of other magical creatures, to humans, even on those rare occasions when we have a dalliance with a mortal.” Lowell’s cheeks reddened and he looked down at his lap. “Above all”—Gavin’s voice grew angrier—“we do not bring mortals to Castle Speranza.” Brock studied his clasped hands. “These laws are not only for your own safety, they are for the safety of every magical creature in these woods.” He fixed his soft grey eyes on Brock and waited for his reply. “Explain yourself, son.”
Brock took Carmen’s hand underneath the table. He smiled at her, sapphire eyes gleaming then turned to Gavin. “Carmen knows about Calvin Prescott’s plans for the woods,” he told his father. “She cares about the woods, and she cares about Charade. She doesn’t want to see the trees get mowed down and replaced by a bunch of mansions and a horde of new residents.”
“Humph,” Lowell grunted. “And so what? I’m sure there are plenty of Charade residents who feel the same way.”
“Yes, well, Carmen is also a lawyer,” Brock continued. “She worked in a posh firm in Chicago before relocating to Charade, and she still practises law. She could help us find a way to legally stop Calvin Prescott from selling the land.”
“Pah!” Paloma spat. “We don’t need a legal way to stop him! I’ve got a way that’s a lot simpler and faster, and it involves a switchblade and one quick slice.” Her black eyes glittered.
Gavin raised one hand for silence. “Continue, Brock.”
“Well, Carmen has a lot of friends in Charade who might help us, too,” he said.
“Help us what?” Lowell laughed. “Argue with Old Man Prescott that trees are worth more than money to him? I say we let them try to take a single tree in Prescott Woods down. They’ll rue the day, I promise you.” Lowell cracked his knuckles. “Between us and the trolls and the gnomes, not to mention the tree spirits, who’ll be fighting for their lives, we’ll make anyone wielding a chain saw wish he’d never woken up that day.”
“We don’t have to fight!” Korbin interjected. “We could let them take part of the woods, just the outside part, and leave the interior to us. The tree spirits only live in the interior, you know. We could let them have a good third of the woods, with the understanding that they’ll never touch the rest of it.”
“Bah!” Gavin shouted and banged his fist on the table. “You know the greed of mortals, son! They would never be content with just a piece of Prescott Woods. Once we give way one little bit, they will never rest until the entire woods are gone and we are homeless and as good as dead.”
“If I may speak,” Carmen offered hesitantly, “since it is, after all, my own fate you’re trying to determine, I have to say that I agree with Gavin. If a partial development of Prescott Woods is successful, Calvin Prescott will feel a great deal of pressure to sell the rest of it.”
Gavin nodded and gestured for Carmen to continue. “With respect, Paloma,” she went on, “I think that killing Calvin Prescott will hardly eliminate the problem of the proposed development. As far as anyone in town knows, Calvin Prescott has no close relatives. If his will dictates that his property will go to a distant cousin or to a charity, it’s quite likely that the beneficiary will want to see the proposed development to its completion and reap the financial rewards. Someone who doesn’t even live in Charade would be even more likely to value money over trees.”
Paloma shot eye daggers at Carmen in reply.
“And Lowell, while I certainly understand your frustration, I feel that an assault on the workers will also not give you the result you want. If there appear to be wild animals or even spirits in the woods, I feel confident that investigations will follow, one after the other, until the forest yields up all its secrets. Of course, if every investigator is attacked, the property owner, be it Calvin Prescott or whoever he wants to sell the land to, will need to resort to drastic measures to clear the trees. Fire, maybe, or perhaps a bunch of guys with guns and grenades. Who knows? They’re not going to let a wood full of dangerous and mysterious creatures just sit there, though.”
Lowell’s bushy black eyebrows knotted over his warm brown eyes.
“I do feel, however, that we can save Prescott Woods from destruction. I think the path starts with Calvin Prescott. Perhaps it ends with a liberal dose of Fair Folk glamour, who knows? I can take care of any legal entanglements as well as enlisting the aid of news media, if it comes to that. I’m sure the evening news would love to show a bunch of small-town protestors whose way of life is threatened by big-money developers.”
Gavin nodded. “Your plan is to trick Calvin Prescott in some manner to leave the woods as is, even though he knows, as do we all, that his family is honour-bound to keep Prescott Woods intact regardless?”
“I suppose,” said Carmen. “But I can also look at the legal ramifications here, including quality of life for Charade residents and zoning, to try to stop him.”
“I see.” He leant back in his chair. “Well, I think we’ve heard quite enough. I, for one, am unconvinced that glamour is the answer here. I feel that Lowell’s idea of repelling the construction crew by any means necessary is the course of action that is most likely to lead to success, and that you, Carmen, are both unwelcome and unnecessary. Lowell, are you in agreement?”
Lowell nodded grimly. “I am.”
“And you, Paloma?” Gavin turned to his fiery-haired daughter.
“Oh, yes, Father,” Paloma agreed, “we hardly need this mortal woman here at Castle Speranza. Although I may still steal into Old Man Prescott’s house just to see if a terrible and fatal accident has occurred”—she smiled wickedly—“or is about to occur.”
Brock began to sputter in protest, but Gavin raised his hand to silence him. “I’m sure we all know your opinions on the matter, Brock,” he stated. “Korbin? How do you weigh in, son?”
Korbin coughed and looked around the table at Paloma, Gavin, Lowell, Brock, and, finally, Carmen. “I think Carmen’s right,” he said at last. “I don’t want Prescott Woods to be cut down, any of it. I think that using a glamour on Old Man Prescott is worth a shot. If that fails, perhaps Carmen’s legal expertise can serve us.”
“That’s it, then,” Gavin stated with finality. “Lowell, Paloma and myself are opposed to Carmen’s presence and aid. Brock and Korbin are in favour of it.” His voice took on the gravity of an executioner. “As I said before, Brock, this will be the end of it. Lowell, please ensure that Carmen never leaves these woods and never remembers anything about her life prior to today.”
The colour drained from Brock’s face. “Father, no! I brought her here and told her she’d be safe. Please, you must reconsider!”
“You were wrong to do so,” Lowell said, “though I doubt that you’ll ever make this mistake again. You must keep your dalliances with mortals in their world, and leave
them behind before you come home. You know that, Brock, as do Paloma, Korbin and I.”
Lowell walked to Carmen’s chair and grabbed her upper arm in a vice-like grip. “Come with me,” he demanded.
Carmen was dizzy with terror. “No, no, you can’t do this!” she shouted. “I can really help you!” Lowell lifted her to her feet. “If I don’t go home, then who will teach my belly-dancing classes? Who will feed Dax, my Labrador?” Lowell started to pull her towards the library door. “And who will feed my chickens?” Carmen sobbed. “They’ll all starve without me.”
“Wait just a minute!” shouted Paloma. “Did you say chickens?” Carmen nodded miserably.
“Is this where you’ve been getting those eggs?” Paloma asked Brock. He gave his affirmation. “Well, then,” Paloma declared, “I change my vote, Father.”
“What’s this?” Gavin blustered. “You’re changing your vote because she owns chickens?” His broad face grew red with anger.
“I’m changing my vote,” she clarified, “because her chickens lay fabulous eggs, Father, and we don’t have any chickens here. Were Carmen to relocate to Castle Speranza and bring her fowl with her, I feel that she would be a lovely addition to our home.”
Gavin stared at her in incredulity.
“And who knows,” Paloma added, “maybe she can figure out a way to trick Old Man Prescott into living up to his family’s side of the bargain. Gaia knows I don’t care about him,” she snorted, “but I would hate for any of us to be hurt defending Prescott Woods.”
Lowell’s grip loosened on Carmen’s upper arm. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he muttered, “but, Father, you know I’ve always wanted a dog.”
“What?” Gavin bellowed. “Are you changing your vote because she has a dog?”
Lowell suddenly expressed a great interest in his shoes.
“And what about you, Korbin?” grumbled Gavin. “Are you going to tell me you’ve always had a hankering to take belly dancing lessons?”
Korbin grinned. “None for me, Father,” he answered, “but you never know, perhaps even those skills will come in handy.”
“Well then,” Gavin boomed. He stood, massive and furious. “I see that I am outvoted by every one of my children. Keep her here, then, Brock, for now. Until I am convinced of her loyalty and discretion, she is not to leave this place. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Father,” Brock agreed.
“And Brock, I do not need to remind you of the rules of Castle Speranza, do I?” he asked. “I put my trust in you.”
“That’s as it should be, Father,” Brock replied.
“And what of the chickens?” asked Paloma.
“And the dog?” Lowell added.
“Argghhh!” Gavin threw his hands into the air. “Go get the damn chickens and the thrice-damned dog,” he barked. “What do I care? Turn Castle Speranza into a zoo, right under my feet. After all, I’m just the one who built it—what does my opinion matter?” Gavin stalked out of the room and to the front door. “Retrieve the animals and we will discuss the matter of Calvin Prescott,” his voice thundered from the porch as he exited.
“Right, then,” Paloma said cheerfully. “Let’s go get my chickens!”
“And don’t forget my dog!” Lowell added.
“Excuse me,” Carmen insisted. “I appreciate very much that you all voted to keep me around instead of whatever vile thing you had in mind, but I’ll remind you that they are my chickens”—she gave Paloma a meaningful glare—“and my dog,” Carmen informed Lowell. “Although,” she acquiesced, “I am certainly willing to share them.”
Chapter Eight
As they journeyed with Paloma and Lowell to fetch Dax, the chickens and Spare Tire, Carmen learnt more of the history of Prescott Woods.
“When Father arrived at Charade, it wasn’t much more than a trading post and a flea-infested inn,” Brock told her. “To him, though, it seemed perfect. He wanted nothing more than an escape from New York City and the consumption that had claimed Mother’s life. He wanted to take us where we could never get sick. He promised Mother on her deathbed that he would protect us.”
Lowell grunted in agreement. “You were just seven then, Brock,” he added, “but old enough to understand what was happening. It was a terrible time. Paloma and I were frightened, but of course we had to obey Father and leave everything we knew in the city.”
“We were still children ourselves,” added Paloma, “but I was ten and old enough to watch the wee ones while Father searched for our new home. Lowell was twelve, but already as tall as a man, so he guarded the rest of us.”
Brock took Carmen’s hand to steady her as she picked her way across the raised stones in a bubbling stream. “At the Charade Inn, Father heard rumours of the haunted woods,” Brock continued. “It seemed that no one was brave enough to venture into the woods for fear of evil spirits and strange monsters. To Father, it was perfect! No one would trouble us if we settled in a place they were afraid to approach, and he thought all the talk of supernatural beings was nonsense. Father left the four of us with the innkeeper, Mack Prescott, and his wife when he went to explore the woods.”
Korbin said, “We can’t imagine what Father encountered. Prescott Woods was, and is, full of beings far removed from the world of man. At that time, they were disorganised and leaderless, but Father must have encountered a troll or two, and elves can be vicious about traps and snares.”
“Three long days passed,” Lowell continued. “As the oldest, I worried nonstop while he was gone. What if he never returned at all? Where would we go? Mack Prescott and his wife were nice enough, but they were hardly prepared to take in four kids permanently. When Father came limping up to the Charade Inn, I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders.”
Paloma chuckled. “Father looked like he’d been dragged through a briar patch and over a cliff by a team of wild horses. He was elated, though. There was a hopeful excitement about him that had been missing ever since Mother died. I still remember what he said then, ‘Come, children. Bring your things. I will settle with the innkeep. I have found our new home.’ We followed him through the woods. We heard frightening, inhuman sounds all around us, but Father was fearless. ‘I am the master of these woods now,’ he told us, ‘for I have bested all creatures who dared to fight me. The beings here have pledged their loyalty to me and are at my command.’”
“We saw the proof of Father’s new status as soon as we reached the camp,” Brock stated. “There were four small, bent women—gnomes, we learnt—ready to wait on us. Gnome men had constructed a wooden home for us next to the opening to the bathing cavern. We stayed in that wooden home while Castle Speranza was built and Father hammered out the details of his arrangement with Mack Prescott.”
“It must have taken ages,” Carmen noted. “Digging, cutting and placing all those rocks are monumental jobs.”
“True,” answered Brock, “but we had a few things going for us. Father had a framed drawing of Acqua Dolce castle near Padua, Italy. Mother grew up near the castle and always loved it. She kept the drawing after she and Father married and crossed the Atlantic. Father gave the drawing to the gnomes, who are skilled, tireless workers. With the help of some trolls, who were also obedient to Father’s will, the castle work went quickly. In just a few months, our new home was ready for us.”
“But what about all those furnishings?” Carmen asked. “The chandeliers, the rugs, the furniture, the paintings, the mirrors…”
Brock shrugged. “Magical beings are, well, magical, Carmen. After the structure was built, Father called on the elves for the interior work. Fine carving, weaving, artwork—they’re good at that sort of thing.”
“It’s pretty remarkable that your father was able to enlist their help. Did they resent it?”
“It was in the magical beings’ best interest, too,” Lowell interjected. “They didn’t have a ruler, and historically had been unable to abide by a creature of a different sort giving them orders. That is,
the elves wouldn’t tolerate a gnome ruler, and the tree spirits would never put up with a troll bossing them about. The woods were in a constant state of battle and confusion. A powerful human ruler was ideal. Father offered peace and protection to the creatures of Prescott Woods in exchange for their obedience in constructing Castle Speranza and then Prescott Manor.”
Carmen caught a glimpse of her chicken coop’s tin roof ahead through the trees. Spare Tire crowed, probably protesting Dax getting too close to his ladies. Carmen emerged alone, blinking, into the bright sunlight. She turned and saw three raccoons waddle from the trees behind her. One with a silver patch of fluffy hair on its head sat back on its haunches and made a shooing gesture towards the house. “All right, all right,” she muttered. “I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”
If Dax had been unsure about the stray cat, he had been downright mistrustful of the three raccoons, especially when they revealed their human visages to him and commenced with chicken relocation. Dax chuffed and complained as he followed at Carmen’s heels. Spare Tire allowed Carmen to carry him, although he clucked nonstop and occasionally let out an exasperated crow. Lowell tucked Agatha, the grey Silkie, under one arm and Suellen, the New Hampshire Red, under the other. Brock carried Gretel, Carmen’s hefty Jersey Giant, and Korbin reached for black-and-white speckled Bella. Paloma was especially enchanted with Scarlett and Melanie, who backed into a fenced corner of the yard and huddled together, clucking fretfully. She held one fluffy Faverolle in each arm so they could nestle together on the return hike.
* * * *
The walk home was long, arduous and entirely too full of feathers for Carmen’s liking. She was fond of Spare Tire, but he gave her a sharp peck or two and she would be relieved to put him down. She wasn’t sure what to expect upon arrival to Castle Speranza, only that Brock had assured her that the gnomes and elves would take care of everything.
