“Just try a biscuit,” Ulga said.
“Maybe later,” Nila replied. “An edge of hunger keeps a person alert, keeps them alive.”
“You really think she’s Hameus’s true love?” Ulga said to Gram loudly enough for the whole room to hear, though her lean-in suggested a private conference between the old ladies. “She doesn’t eat and he never stops eating.”
Gram chuckled but she did not reply. Her eyes studied Nila.
Ulga and Connie seated themselves and took up needle, fabric and thread from the baskets next to their chairs. Gram settled herself beside Nila and put the breakfast dish on the table between them. Nobody offered Tad a scrap.
But his stomach did not protest. If Nila was half as anxious as he was about setting a trap for Hameus, food was the last thing on her mind as well.
“We know how to break the curse,” Gram said.
“Oh?” Ulga replied, sparing only a glance at Gram.
Connie kept her deep-set eyes on her work. Tad took in the hunched form in the chair, rocking away as if she hadn’t a care in the world, though her knobby fingers made little progress with the needle and thread.
“She feels the gout, poor dear,” Ulga said and patted Connie’s arm. “But never a word of complaint. Ah, but don’t you worry, Connie, we’ll get Hameus’s britches done yet.”
“Ulga and Connie here are the only ones to help me with Hameus’s special problem,” Gram said with a smile at her neighbor and placed a biscuit with poached egg into her mouth.
“That was a strange night, when first we saw Hameus’s transformed state,” Ulga said. “But it seems like a very long time ago.”
Gram nodded and swallowed her morsel of biscuit and egg along with a bite of crispy bacon. “It’s nice to have neighbors who see a person for who they truly are and don’t just believe what their eyes tell them. Instead of fainting or prattling to everyone in the village about the beast at Gram’s cabin, she became my friend. She brought Connie along and the three of us work to keep Hameus in supply of clothes.”
“We’re just happy to help,” Ulga replied. “We were two lonely souls. The knitting circle gives us purpose and we do have such a time together. Plus, with just me and Connie, I have to do all the talking.” She tittered at her friend who seemed not to have heard a word of this speech.
Gram looked at Tad. “As you see, we’re all busy here, so go after my grandson and the three of us will make sure Hameus doesn’t end up stark naked.”
Ulga chuckled. “It might be rather embarrassing, what with his true love watching.”
Nila shook her head at the old biddies, but her eyes sparkled until they landed on Tad. She drew in a deep breath. “I’d like to say I feel ready for this, but I don’t believe that will ever be the case.”
Tad wondered at the tremble in her voice, her hands, her eyes. The Lady had said true love required a great deal of courage and that none of the articles in the library could solve a case alone. Still, he suspected there was something more than ordinary beast-hunting jitters bothering Nila. “We need to burn that cloak,” he told her. “It belonged to Dame Muriel and her vile magic still clings to it, no doubt. Her primary essence is terror.”
Nila eyed the shiny covering and its hood, and abruptly shrugged it off. “The wolf nightmares did begin the day the elf gave this to me along with the silver-tipped arrows. I always assumed the dreams came because of the hunt, but I do feel better when I’m not wearing this thing, less suspicious and afraid.” She flung the cloak into the cold fireplace.
Ulga’s mouth popped open as she stared at the scarlet fabric in the ashes next to her chair. “Such a shame to do away with a beautiful article like that. Just look at the intricate stitching.” Slowly, her gaze drifted to her lap. “But I suppose you can’t forget the one who made it. No, not a good idea to keep it.” She shook her head and rethreaded her needle. “Such a shame.”
“You know about Dame Muriel?” Tad asked Ulga.
“Old country gossip,” Ulga replied. “Stories like hers are passed down from generation to generation out here in these woods. Mostly to keep children from wandering too far into the forest. Still…” She tugged at her needle. “There’s always some truth in legend and myth. You young folks don’t appreciate the old tales anymore…Such a shame.”
Tad did not wish to discuss old gossip or the defects of his own generation. “Feel better?” he asked Nila.
Her eyes looked much like they did when Hameus carried her up the porch in his arms. “I do feel better.” She cast a frown at the cloak. “Without the constant feeling of terror I don’t think I would have fallen into the gully like a clumsy fool. But I must admit, I’m still a little anxious to know I’ll be going out there where an evil witch and her bloodthirsty beast are lying in wait. I’m not exactly at my best.” Her eyes flickered to her injured ankle. “But I am eager for this whole ordeal to be over and…”
“To see Hameus again?” Gram said with a wayward grin.
Nila’s face colored. “I want to thank him for saving me that night and here in the cabin.”
“And give him a kiss, maybe?” Gram prodded.
“He will make a fine, strapping husband,” Tad said, though he still thought Hameus a bit of a dim bumpkin. “Very attentive and protective and in love with you, despite whatever enchantment the cloak might have cast over him. I’m sure he’ll make a loving father, too.”
“Just think how much knitting we’ll have to do then,” Gram told Ulga.
“Not too much,” Ulga replied. “Hameus won’t need new clothes all the time, and little ones don’t use much fabric. We may waste away from idleness.”
“I do hope I get my grandbabies soon,” Gram said. “With Hameus cursed, I was beginning to wonder if the right lady would ever come along.”
“Well, here the lady is now and her face is the color of her cloak,” Ulga said and giggled at Nila. “She’ll save Hameus yet, I think.”
“I’d like to give that hag a piece of my mind for what she has put both of us through,” Nila said.
Tad almost began to describe Dame Muriel’s true form, not as a mere hag but something much worse. He decided Nila had experienced enough terror without that image haunting her.
She reached over the arm of her chair for her quiver. “I suppose now is the time to get going.”
“Unfortunately, the arrows will have to be destroyed, too,” Tad said. “The silver also belonged to Dame Muriel.”
Nila straightened and gave Tad a look that questioned his sanity.
“You can’t go around destroying a precious thing like silver,” Ulga cried, her lips pruned up at Tad. She turned to Gram. “Are you sure this little man here knows what he’s doing?”
Gram shrugged. “I don’t have much choice but to believe so.” She gave Nila a smile, but her face seemed to tremble. “So far he has proved that he knows his business…except that Hameus’s condition did catch him by surprise.”
The last statement was certainly an accusation. Tad pulled the red bundle out from under his arm. “This here is my disguise,” he said, trying to shake off Gram’s penetrating eyes, which were more disturbing than usual at the moment. Very likely she doubted his abilities, but he would solve this case one way or another. “I’ll draw away the real beast so Nila can deal with Hameus.”
Ulga inclined her head toward Gram. “Oh, he’s a brave one. I wouldn’t want to see anything that looks like Hameus during one of his transformations, unless it was Hameus himself. Such a sweet boy.”
Tad stretched himself an inch taller. Yes, it was very brave of him to face the beast to save Hameus. He hoped Gram remembered that each time she thought of a certain omission in his research into the case. If only Roselle were around to see his deed she would tumble into his arms in an instant.
“The pigeons will magic you to the barn,” Tad said, seeing Nila struggle to her feet.
“And I’ll be exposed and without a weapon,” she said to herself.
Ta
d could not contradict this statement. “Just think about what you will say to Hameus. Whatever it is has to be powerful enough to dispel the terror in his heart, the fear he has of himself. Only you can help him stop seeing himself as a beast.”
“I’ll take Hameus’s ax.” Nila leaned over and snatched it up by its long handle.
“This all sounds very romantic,” Ulga said. Her lips curled up as she turned to Nila. “Good luck.”
Chapter 18
“Nan, Sev,” Tad called out. “We’re ready.”
The two birds stepped through the wall next to the door and flapped over to Nila.
Nan looked up at the warrior woman standing on one leg and towering over her. “Don’t worry, dear. Traveling by magic doesn’t hurt in the least.”
“Unless you—”
Nan sent Sev a searing look.
“Never mind,” Sev said.
Nila turned up one corner of her mouth at the birds.
“I’ll walk to the barn in this red coat so the beast will see me when I go inside,” Tad said, punching the bundle under his arm for good measure. “Then we’ll just have to wait.”
“And we’ll be just outside keeping watch for the beast,” Nan said. “If anything gets out of hand, we’ll snatch you up and take you someplace safe.”
Tad sneaked himself a piece of a biscuit and a scrap of bacon from the rectangular dish. Hungry or not, he didn’t want to face a merciless death without a final taste of breakfast in all its glory. He shoved it into his mouth and turned his head toward the hearth so nobody could see him chew the stolen goods.
Nila lay her hand on his arm. His jaws stopped moving. “Careful,” she almost-whispered. “What it did when it attacked the cabin shows it’s an intelligent creature. Don’t linger too long out there.”
Tad’s heart pounded in his ears and his tongue refused to cooperate. And he couldn’t very well answer with his mouth full of unchewed biscuit. He nodded.
Nila disappeared as Nan and Sev whisked her away in a swirl of magic. Ulga raised her eyebrows as she watched them go. Tad swallowed down his tiny meal, put on his shaggy red coat and shuffled toward the door. His fingers didn’t want to lift the latch and his feet didn’t want to budge past the threshold, but he took hold of his courage, pulled his hood over his wooly mane, and launched himself out into the cold. Across the porch and down the steps he went, his heart thundering, eyes darting to at fro and imagining hidden things snatching him.
He reached the last step and saw with displeasure that the morning was completely spent. What he had thought was dawn peeking through Gram’s window revealed itself to be the full light of day, albeit a dreary one. The sun shone directly overhead, barely visible behind a thick covering of storm clouds. Why must the skies threaten rain at a time like this? With beasts and witches on the prowl and Tad’s heart thundering, skies of doom were completely unnecessary. He felt the full weight of the danger his tasty flesh was in as he moved from the cabin toward the barn. But the diminished light might hide the fact that he was much shorter than Nila—as long as the beast did not see too well and was not too clever at all.
The manly march he had envisioned when he made this plan turned into more of a chicken run. He could magic himself away if he needed to, but not if he didn’t know there was a need or if his brain froze out of terror. It seemed it already had. This idea was stupidity.
He scurried past one potential evil after another. The wood pile next to the cabin was a vicious, dark form, every branch in the woods a hairy arm or a clawed hand. A pair of fiery eyes peeking out from behind the barn disappeared as he drew near.
How had Nila managed to pursue the beast with the cloak of terror clinging to her? The lady’s unfashionable ways seemed suddenly unimportant as it dawned on him that she must be the most courageous person he had ever encountered. He wasn’t even wearing Dame Muriel’s cloak yet his body shook with fear and his eyes saw what was not there. What imbecile had dreamed up this plan? True love had better be worth it.
Relief washed over him as his hands reached for the barn door and heaved it open. He left it rotating on its hinges and scooted through the entryway.
Inside the barn was not much warmer than outside. Light and air crept in through cracks between the planks, but rather than acting as emissaries of good cheer, they shrouded the place in an aura that conjured up a sensation of having awakened from a terrifying slumber only to find himself in a coffin.
Tad skittered past stalls containing a milk cow, a sow with her piglets, and a small mare. Each sound and movement from the docile animals sent icicles down his torso and arms. Nila sat on a milking stool with an ax in her lap, leaning back against the rear wall.
Tad scurried over to the she-warrior’s side and huddled next to her gleaming blade. And they waited. He guessed an hour had passed and still nothing crept in through the door, but his heart remained a block of ice in his chest.
“Ooeh!” a voice squealed out.
Nila jolted. She and Tad jerked their heads to where the sound had come from. Three piglets tumbled out of the stall between the horse and the milk cow.
“What are you boys doing here?” Nila’s eyes scolded the three of them.
Behind John-John, Freddie and Dom, half a dozen pink piglets with black spots grunted as they nursed a sow lying on her side ignoring the commotion.
“We sneaked back to help you catch the beast.” Freddie picked himself up, beaming as if he were delivering grand news.
Dom and John-John pushed to their feet and turned their curious heads around the barn.
“Yep, we’re going to be heroes,” John-John said.
Tad started to cry out after Pip, but he didn’t want to run Hameus off by screeching at his useless assistant.
“Can you get them out of here?” Nila asked.
“Uh…” He didn’t actually know how to transport anyone using magic. Where were the pigeons? “Nan,” he said in an even tone and hoped she heard from wherever she had perched herself.
Moments later Nan swooped down through the roof of the barn and landed on top of the stall next to Nila.
“Can you take them back to the village, please?” Tad asked her in a hush.
The boys moaned against this injustice.
“I’m afraid not. Sev has his eyes on the front of the barn, and I need to keep watch out back.”
“Did you see that?” Nila pointed toward the door swinging ominously on its hinges. “Something moved.”
“Sev would have told us if something had come in through the front way,” Nan said.
Freddie’s eyes filled with horror. “I saw it, too. It was big and…hairy.” He frowned. “Maybe today is not a good day to be a hero.”
“Boys, get yourselves hidden, now.” Nila leaned forward on her stool. Her knuckles whitened as they clutched the handle of Hameus’s ax.
John-John threw his small frame down into a pile of straw next to the cow’s stall and began tossing heaps of golden chaff over him. Freddie and Dom ducked behind a stack of plank and stone on the other side of Nila that appeared to have been there a few years. Nan swooped away and disappeared through the roof.
Silence settled over the barn, though the boys kept peering out from their ridiculous hiding places. Nila pushed herself to her feet, ax at the ready.
A little voice started to sing. “Five fat sausages sittin’ in a pan. One went pop and the others went bang…Four fat sausages—”
“Will you quit that,” Dom hissed at his neighbor.
“I can’t help it,” Freddie whimpered. “You know I always sing when I’m hiding from a flesh-devouring beast…sittin’ in a pan, one went pop and—”
“I swear if you utter one more word it’s you who’ll get popped,” Dom said.
“Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm—”
“We still know what song it is. No humming it, either,” John-John said from beneath his pile of straw.
“Boys, I need to you to be quiet.” Nila’s sharp gaze roamed the space around
them.
“We can easily see it coming from here,” Tad said. Nila was just seeing things and Freddie had likely made up his story to match hers. The pigeons would have alerted them if anything had stirred itself in the woods. Still he took a step nearer to the warrior and her weapon. “Maybe I should go back out now and walk around a bit so Dame Muriel’s beast will see me and then I’ll come back inside so it will follow.” He didn’t want to say the words and wished to take them back the moment they escaped his lips.
At the other end of the barn, the door creaked and swayed.
“Why don’t you let me wear that awhile?” Nila said. “I think it might help attract Hameus.”
“Hameus is the beast?” a small voice said.
“He looks like one at the moment, but he’s not the one I’m after,” Nila replied. “Quiet now, boys.”
Tad shrugged off the coat and handed it to her. Shame over his cowardice coursed through him. He ought not to be letting an injured woman do this deed, even if she did have herself an ax and a fearsome expression. “But what about me being bait for the other beast?”
Nila pulled on the coat and drew the hood over her head. The sleeves were a little too short and she couldn’t fasten the thing around her, but she did look more like herself in the fiery garment. “One of the biggest mistakes when hunting a clever animal is looking for it where you expect it to be.” Her eyes inspected the rafters.
But there was only a small window up there and the beast didn’t have wings, after all.
“I doubt this one will be coming through an open door, no matter how you dangle yourself in front of it,” Nila said.
The moment these words left her lips a shadow leapt from behind a pile of grain sacks in the loft. A dark form landed in front of Nila on all fours, fangs bared. Tad fell onto his bottom and scooted back on his palms toward the pig’s stall. The mare whinnied and shied. The milk cow paced wide-eyed and let out a mournful moo. But the wolfish creature had its eyes locked on the woman in scarlet. It let out three yips and a series of groans.
Nila’s eyes lit up. “Hameus?” She dropped her ax.
At First Sight Page 12
