A Monster's Paradise (Away From Whipplethorn Book Three)

by A W Hartoin

  Iris and I flew out to join them. As soon as we got there, the fairy in front fixed his eyes on me.

  “State your name.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I wasn’t fond of orders, a personality trait that had both served and condemned me in the past. Dad’s face tightened, so I held back my natural inclination to say what’s it to you and said instead, “Matilda Elliot.” My cover name.

  He turned to Iris.

  “Iris Elliot,” she said meekly.

  He turned back to my parents. “State your purpose for this infraction.”

  “Infraction?” asked Dad. “We just got here.”

  “You have recently arrived?” the fairy asked.

  “Just this morning. What’s going on?”

  “What flight were you on?”

  “432 United.”

  “We’ll be checking on that. What is the purpose for your visit?”

  “We’re tourists,” said Dad, his cheeks reddening slightly. He wasn’t a natural liar, that was for sure.

  Just then Tess ran out of the door. “Come on!” Then she saw the fairies and stopped, skidding on the concrete, her long hair rushing into her face.

  “State your name,” said the fairy.

  “State yours,” she retorted, tossing back her hair and sounding more like her brother than I thought possible.

  “Vipond of His Majesty’s Royal Guard.”

  “Really?” asked Tess and I saw Mom go white.

  “Really. State your name.” The fairy puffed up and tried to look impressive, which he did to me, but to Tess he must’ve looked pretty insignificant. He was smaller than my dad and kind of spindly.

  “Tess Elliot, if you must know.”

  “These fairies are of your house?”

  “Sure.”

  “What is their surname?”

  Tess didn’t hesitate. “Elliot, of course.”

  “Are all the humans in your house seers?”

  “No.”

  “State the seers.”

  “Just me. No one else will see. They’re so boring,” said Tess, affecting an annoyed look.

  The fairy glanced up at the door and swallowed hard. “This is where you’ll be staying?”

  “No. My parents just know someone else that’s boring. They live here.”

  “Where are you staying?

  “At La Tremoille. Why do you care?”

  The fairy handed Dad a scroll. “Adhere to the royal decree and you will have a pleasant stay in our fair city. Bon chance.”

  The company moved out, flying in formation. We held our breath until they disappeared around a distant corner.

  “Good luck?” said Tess. “Who tells visitors good luck?”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” said Mom.

  “Me, either,” said Dad, unrolling the scroll.

  “What does it say?” asked Iris.

  “Just that there’s a curfew by royal degree. No one outside between ten p.m. and seven a.m.”

  “What time is it, Tess?” I asked.

  “Six fifty-five. They are nuts.”

  “We better get inside,” said Dad. “Breaking curfew is punishable by up to two years in prison.”

  We dashed inside and Tess closed the door with a heavy thump behind us. The minute we were inside worries about the royal whatevers vanished from my head. The lobby was gorgeous with thick oriental rugs on the polished marble floor, dark gleaming woodwork, and crystal chandeliers.

  “Come on!” yelled Tess as she ran down to a pair of elevators that made the ones in the airport look large.

  We flew up behind her in time to hear Rebecca ask, “Who were you talking to?”

  “Myself.” Tess ran inside the open elevator.

  Rebecca crammed herself in and pushed the button. We flew in and hovered above their heads.

  “You told yourself to come on?” asked Rebecca.

  “I do it all the time,” said Tess.

  “That does not make me feel better.”

  Tess shrugged and the elevator door opened. She dashed out and ran to Marie, who was standing at an open door with her arms crossed, tapping her toe.

  “Is this it? Is this it?” Tess hopped up and down.

  “Entrez vous,” said Marie with a flourish inside the door.

  Rebecca came up slowly. “This is going to be spectacular, isn’t it?”

  “Did you ever doubt it?” Marie took her arm and led her inside.

  We flew through the receiving room first. It contained two wardrobes and a table with a tulip arrangement in a vase. After that was an archway lined in rosewood that opened into a large living room with creamy green walls, a chandelier, tons of woodwork, and a herringbone wood floor. Rebecca stood beside a plush cream-colored sofa with her hand over her mouth. Her large eyes roamed over the curvy furniture with its carved flowers, the antique portraits on the wall, and settled on the alabaster fireplace mantel. It had a large crest centered over the firebox with three fleur-de-lis.

  Horc waved at me and pointed to the crest. “Look familiar?”

  Of course it did. The crest was the same as the one on the king’s royal whatevers that liked to go around threatening people at six o’clock in the morning.

  Mom stared at the crest and squeezed Horc so tight, his eyes bulged out. I flitted over and took him out of her arms. Horc took a deep breath. “I believe you will be carrying me for the foreseeable future.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  “It is already decided.”

  “By who?

  “By me. Our mother cannot handle the strain. Neither can my lungs. I must breathe on a regular basis.”

  “Mom’ll calm down,” I said with a light kiss on his largest head lump.

  “Or she won’t. What are you going to do about that?”

  “Me? Nothing. I’ve got a job to do and it isn’t lugging you around.”

  “You can do both. Now let’s land on that lovely table. It looks tasty.” Horc smacked his green lips.

  I landed on the low sofa table and set him down next to a neat pile of French decorating magazines. “Do not bite the furniture.”

  Horc gave me a cagey look. “As if I would do such a thing.”

  “You would and you have. The Elliots don’t own this stuff. You can’t bite it. You have sticks for that.”

  “I promise nothing. My third row is starting to emerge.” Horc opened his mouth wide. Behind his first two rows of jagged pointy teeth was a row of red little blisters.

  I shuddered. “You could never show me that again and it would be okay.”

  Iris landed next to me and placed the Speciesapedia next to Horc with the admonishment, “Do not bite Gerald’s book.”

  Horc put his hand on his chest and managed to look quite offended. I pointed out the bite marks on the spine and his moist brown eyes darted around looking for a distraction.

  “I know how many bite marks are on there,” I said.

  “Look at poor Rebecca. She’s rather distressed,” said Horc.

  I fell for it and turned around. Rebecca had tears in her eyes and her hand was clamped even more firmly over her mouth.

  Marie rubbed her back. “Now come on. You can’t tell me you don’t like it. It’s simply not possible.”

  Rebecca went to the living room window and clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes gazing at the top third of the Eiffel Tower that jutted out above the trees not far away. “It’s beautiful. I never dreamed I’d live in a place like this. Never in my wildest.”

  Marie handed her a tissue. “Well, it’s no Versailles, but it’ll do on short notice. I always liked it. I met my first husband in this very room and my third, come to think of it.”

  Rebecca blew her nose. “I hate to tell you this, Marie, but we can’t afford it. There’s absolutely no way.”

  Evan came in through another archway. “The company’s paying for it, Rebecca. We’re good.”

  Rebecca started snuffling in earnest. “I never dreamed.”

>   Marie maneuvered her onto a white velvet tufted chair and took her by the shoulders. Rebecca’s drippy eyes met Marie’s sharp dry ones.

  “You should always imagine the amazing. How else can it come to pass? Remember that in the future when the amazing shows up.” Marie straightened up and winked at me. “I wonder if my bedroom is still intact.”

  I watched her march out and then caught Horc picking up the Speciesapedia with his mouth wide.

  “Horc!” I snatched it away. “I can’t trust you for a minute.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. I showed you my third row.” He started to open his mouth to give me another glimpse of the grossness.

  I cringed as Mom and Dad landed.

  “Doesn’t it remind you of Whipplethorn Manor?” said Mom.

  Iris clapped her hands. “It does. It does.”

  I didn’t clap. The apartment did remind me of Whipplethorn, but it wasn’t something I wanted to think about. Our life in Whipplethorn seemed like it belonged to another person entirely. I was so different. In the crumbling mansion that our family had originally lived in, life was simple and very quiet. Then humans had come and tore out all the woodwork including our home, the dining room fireplace mantel. They sold the mantel to the antique mall with me, Iris, Gerald, and our neighbor’s baby, Easy, inside. That was the beginning of my real life. I hated it when Mom talked about Whipplethorn. She missed it. I think she missed me as I was or at least as she thought I was, just a girl with no fire or permanent injuries. She was happier then. I was happier now.

  “Matilda,” said Mom. “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice,” I said.

  “Nice! It’s like being home again.”

  “I guess.”

  Mom frowned and was probably about to tell me off for not being thrilled about the similarities to Whipplethorn when Lrag and Bentha climbed onto the tabletop.

  “Where’s Penrose?” asked Mom.

  “I settled her in Tess’s room with Lucrece.” Lrag picked up Horc and began tossing him from hand to hand like a ball. Horc always said he didn’t like it, but he didn’t protest, only tucked in his stumpy limbs and became as much like a ball as any living creature could.

  Bentha drew his sword. “I smell something.”

  “You always smell something,” said Lrag.

  “Do not question a ponderosa’s sense of smell. You will be defeated every time.”

  Lrag groaned. “What do you smell?”

  “It is unknown at present. I, Bentha, will discover the source.”

  “Could you discover it now?” asked Lrag. “You make me tired.”

  “It shall be done.”

  Dad stopped Bentha before he could leap off the table. “Do you think it’s a fairy? We’re supposed to be alone here. This could break our cover.”

  Bentha stuck his nose in the air. “Not a fairy. I shall proceed.” He held his sword out like he was leading troops into battle and did a somersault off the table.

  “I hope it’s not rats,” said Mom. “Rebecca told Evan there might be rats.”

  “Rats won’t bother us. We’re not big enough to eat,” said Dad.

  “I still don’t want rats around.”

  “Their poops would be huge,” said Iris.

  Mom made a face.

  “Speaking of huge poops, here come the dogs,” said Dad.

  Ellie and Nora raced in with their leashes pulled tight, dragging Earl and Stanley behind.

  “These dogs are crazy,” said Earl.

  “They love them French squirrels. Almost ripped my arm off,” said Stanley.

  The dogs were crazier than I’d ever seen them. Shar-Peis were a pretty calm breed, but at that moment Ellie and Nora were yanking the leashes back and forth, straining to get free.

  “Just let them go,” I said. “They want to sniff.

  Earl and Stanley unclipped the leads and they were off, but not running through the apartment like I expected. They rammed their wrinkly noses into the walls and sniffed like they had never sniffed before. They ran into each other and nearly upset a rosewood reading table when disappearing behind a large upholstered chair in the corner. Iris and I flew over and found the dogs snuffling around a hole in the woodwork. Mom was right we had rats. Big ones.

  Mom came up and exclaimed, “Oh, no! Rats.”

  “At least the dogs are happy,” said Iris.

  “Yeah,” I said. That’s the most important thing.”

  “Don’t be snide,” said Mom. “Go check on Penrose and see if you can get our bags out of Tess’s luggage.”

  We flitted away, glad to escape the rant about rats that was surely coming. Dad could listen to that.

  Iris tugged on my foot until I slowed and faced her. “Which way?”

  She pointed to one of the archways that led out of the living room. The dogs emerged from behind the chair, spotted us, and trotted over with their tails wagging. On the other side of the arch was a kitchen, twice the size of the one the Elliots had in the States. There were two more arches. The one on the far left appeared to go to the dining room and the other on the right, a hallway.

  I chose the hallway and flew past the rich fabric wallcoverings and prints of the French countryside. We hung a right into the first bedroom and found it was Tess’s. It had to be. It was so girly with blue toile wallpaper and a pink lacy coverlet on the white four-poster bed. It had a large window with a small balcony. In front of the window on a cushy seat lay Miss Penrose, still swathed in blankets. Tess and Lucrece were at her side, both wearing fierce frowns.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I DARTED OVER and landed, sinking to my knees on the unstable surface. “What’s wrong?”

  “See for yourself,” said Lucrece.

  And I did see. I so wished I hadn’t. Miss Penrose’s lips were tinged with blue, a symptom of her condition getting worse.

  “We’re supposed to have two months left,” said Iris as she landed and lightly touched Miss Penrose’s forehead. She didn’t respond. Not a good sign.

  “It appears that we do not,” said Lucrece.

  “What’ll we do? What’ll we do?” asked Iris.

  Tess held out her index finger and Iris leaned against the tip.

  “Don’t worry. We just have to change the plan. Move everything up,” said Tess.

  “We can’t,” said Iris. “Matilda has to rest.”

  I crawled to Miss Penrose’s feet and unwrapped the thick blankets from around her legs. Lucrece had knitted a pair of thick stockings to keep Miss Penrose’s legs warm and they extended up to her thin thighs. I rolled the right one down and pushed a finger into the swollen flesh of her calf. It dimpled for a second and then filled back in.

  “When did this happen, Lucrece?” I asked, an angry flush starting on my neck.

  “Do not blame me, wood fairy,” hissed Lucrece. “I only want to be a healer. You are supposed to actually be one.”

  “Grandma Vi died before I was fully trained. Besides, you sat with her on the plane. You should’ve noticed.”

  “Why weren’t you sitting with her? To busy sulking about learning swordplay?”

  A warm tingling spread across my palms. Flames ready to ignite.

  “Have you forgotten the rules already?” asked Lucrece, sneering. “I thought you swore to obey this time.”

  I clinched my hands into fists and the tingling vanished. I did promise not to reveal my fire and by extension our whereabouts. It was proving to be as difficult as the last time. We’d been in the antique mall and Lrag had made me invisible, one of his many gifts. I couldn’t make fire or it would break the spell. But I did and was seen. A battle ensued and lives were lost. I had to control myself this time.

  I rolled Miss Penrose’s stocking back up slowly, swallowing my anger and some pride with it. “You’re right. I did promise.”

  Lucrece raised an eyebrow lump. “Are you apologizing to me, a spriggan?”

  “I guess I am. It’s not your fault. I
wish it was. At least then maybe we could change it.”

  “I accept your admittedly weak apology.” She opened her ratty old carpetbag and pulled out an ink pot, quill, and a roll of parchment. “We will amend the plan.”

  “You wrote it down?” I asked.

  “I am a spriggan. Record-keeping is a key ingredient in business success and this is a business.”

  I unrolled the parchment on the cushion and read it over. “You gave us three days to find and convince the vermillion to help?”

  “Time is of the essence.” Lucrece licked the tip of her quill and scratched out the three. “We’ll change it to two.”

  “Better change the rest days, too,” said Tess. “You have to get out there right away.”

  “What about Matilda’s leg?” asked Iris. “It’s a lot worse.”

  “True. Your parents may be a better choice to send out into the city,” said Lucrece.

  “Are you kidding?” Tess snorted, nearly blowing us all over.

  “Don’t do that,” I said.

  “Sorry. But that idea won’t work. Your parents are really nice, but…”

  “Agreed,” said Lucrece. “Nice doesn’t get the job done. That’s why spriggans are so successful.”

  “Great,” I said. “So I’m like a spriggan.”

  Lucrece blinked. “When necessary, yes.”

  She was right, of course, though I hated to admit it. I could be plenty spriggan-like when I had to. I’d get that cure for Miss Penrose no matter what. I couldn’t say the same for my parents.

  Lucrece changed our two rest days to none. We’d have to start tomorrow instead of having time to get over the jet lag and moving day exhaustion.

  “Where’s your medical bag, Matilda?” asked Lucrece.

  “In my suitcase,” said Tess.

  Mom flitted in and landed beside the parchment. “Why do you need my mother’s bag?”

  “It’s Matilda’s bag now, Mom,” said Iris.

  “Yes, well, why do you need it?” Mom wasn’t worried, just suspicious of me, like usual. I decided to leave it that way. She didn’t need to know the truth about Miss Penrose. It would only upset her.