by Emma Coal
After some consideration, she resumed her approach, nearly tripping over her bag on the way. Sure, she was quite scared, but she had to continue and perhaps the worst was over. she’d met the beast in the mist and it hadn’t eaten her. Nothing more would happen.
She began to see more shapes, shrubs and trees. A figure loomed and she shrunk back. Then she realized with some relief it was only a statue of a creature on a pedestal, perhaps a lion, though the carving was very stylized. She stepped past it running her fingers along the cool damp stone, enjoying the tiny pocks that riddled the surface of the figure as well as the curves and ridges left by the sculptor.
The house became more distinct and Grace could see that a nearby room was lit as well as a few others on the second floor. She stepped forward thinking to climb in through the window of the one of the darkened rooms but was prevented by a great tangle of thorny greenery which snagged on the hem of her dress and prevented her from approaching too closely.
At length, she discovered a lower patch which wouldn’t hinder her progress too badly and leaned over it to examine a window and see if it would open. It was clearly latched, and the frame seemed to be of iron and in quite good shape considering the apparent lack of use the house saw, being perpetually at the center of a cloud and all.
Grace walked along the side of the house. As she walked she got farther and farther away from the lit parts of the building and the thorny mass which barred her way seemed to climb further up, covering the windows and the wall entirely.
Grace began to wonder if she was going the right way to find a door or opening or if she should go back to the welcoming light behind her. She didn’t know why she was leaving it. There couldn’t be anyone living in the house, could there? When she’d checked the mirror, her father had been alone. She was certain he couldn’t find his way out of the fog and had settled in the house waiting for rescue. Papa wasn’t a very active person. He was content to let things come as they may, usually.
Grace reached the corner of the house and to her relief she discovered that the masonry had given way, exposing a great ballroom with a high ceiling. Here the thorns were sparse and Grace stepped carefully over them, noting the red and pink roses jutting out from the vines with a twinge of melancholy. Roses were both the method of her salvation and of her imprisonment. Now they seemed to be entangling her father. She pushed the thought from her mind. No sense dwelling on it, was there?
A slight breeze traveled through the ballroom and Grace halted in her tracks. She looked around carefully. She was in the creature’s lair. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed but there was something strangely illusive about the scent. She made out rags and other things on the mezzanine along the far wall which looked out over the dance floor.
With pulsing heart and ragged breath she slunk quickly along the wall to the great big set of double doors immediately below the mezzanine. She yanked at them frantically and moaned when they didn’t give. Her body twanged with the urge to flee. Finally, the latch gave and the door opened outward, spilling the bundle of nervous young woman into a dim hallway.
With a sense of intense relief, Grace shut the door securely behind her. She rested against the wall and basked in the comfort. While she wasn’t very sensitive to such things, she had become numb in the mist from moisture and exhaustion. Here in the hallway it was warmer. She could smell burning wood and traces of bacon and eggs, cinnamon and vanilla and aromatic tea. Oh, she could use a mug of tea. Perhaps a pitcher. A nice warm, comforting beverage was exactly the thing to make the world right again, along with finding her father.
The house had been watching with interest. It was concerned about the new potential guest. It was cautiously optimistic but unsure. The old guest had tried to break out. This one had tried to break in. Guests were willing to break the rules, it seemed. What could be done about that, the house couldn’t decide.
The master never provided such challenges. Then again, the master was practically a shadow, eating sleeping and functioning on his own. Perhaps guests needed more, like companionship. This new one could keep the first one company. Perhaps the master would even emerge and engage with them. That would be a turn for the better.
Grace found the kitchen and there, like magic, was a tea set. She peered inside the tea pot and nearly fainted with pleasure at the pleasant aroma wafting out. She glanced around suspiciously but her need quickly overcame her caution and care. She poured a cup of tea and blew on it a few times then took a sip. Perfection. She took a gulp and then finished the cup.
Grace poured herself another cup and turned back to the doorway. She dropped the cup as she saw her father by the hearth, fast asleep in a kitchen chair. Strangely, the cup didn’t break even though it had fallen on stone, but she didn’t notice.
“Papa!” she cried out, hurrying towards him and falling at his feet to grab his arm.
“Papa, are you alright? Wake up, Papa!”
To her relief he stirred. He smacked his lips and cracked his eyes. He sat up, shocked.
“Grace, you’re here my dear?”
“Yes, papa, I came to see what was keeping you.”
Grace smiled up at her father and leaned into his hand when he stroked her hair.
Chapter Thirteen: Ruby
“Papa, what happened? It’s been three days.”
Johan regarded his daughter from his place nestled deep within a cozy armchair. It seemed to her that he was hiding. He’d led her to the library in an attempt to placate her but Grace would not relent. She sat on the edge of her armchair watching her father intently.
“I-I don’t know,” said Johan, his mustaches contributing to his look of shame.
“What do you mean? Were you injured? Are you hurt now?”
Johan rubbed his head, rumpling his steel grey hair and Grace noted the movement with increasing concern.
“Did you hit your head?”
“I think I did, my dear. Quite recently judging by the knot in my scalp. I either hit myself or something hit me. I don’t remember what happened before I came to this grand house, I barely remember leaving home. Something must have happened, of course, but I don’t have any inkling what.”
Grace smiled. “Father, I have something. It will resolve most of our problems.”
She grabbed the sack she’d sat beside the chair and rummaged through it, producing the wrapped parcel with a grunt. Her father watched bemused as she undid the twine and carefully removed the aging sacking to reveal the little wooden chest. Triumphantly, she lifted the lid and held out the box with both hands like an offering.
Johan regarded the little treasure box. His breath caught. He could see gems in that box and one, an emerald about the size of his thumb with brilliant color, caught his focus. He shook his head slowly and reached out. Grace tried to put the box in his hands but Johan gently closed the lid and pushed it back.
“My dear, this is quite a find. I truly want to know its origins but we have more pressing matters.”
Grace frowned and set the box on the side table, noting with surprise that she had to push a small plate of sandwich biscuits, filled with ruby jam, to one side to do so. She looked at her father with raised eyebrows and nodded at the biscuits.
“What is going on here, Papa?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Grace stood. “Then let’s go. We need to get home. Louise is worried. Elsbeth is falling apart. What are you waiting for, papa?” She held out a hand for him to take.
Johan looked away. “I’ve tried to leave. It’s how I got the bump on my head. It’s impossible. I have no idea why but we’re stuck here. I’m afraid we are both doomed, I’m sorry my girl. I’ve failed you.”
“What do you mean? I’m here and I can lead you out of the mist. There are roses on the grounds just outside. Once we return you won’t have to worry about money. Everything is fine and about to get better. What are you talking about?”
Johan sighed. “When I remembered the contract, I trie
d to break a window. The house prevented me. It’s alive. It’s been feeding me, warming me and allowing me to explore. I’ll take a gander that the house wanted you here as well, perhaps to keep me from trying to leave again.”
Grace shook her head. “What? I-I can’t accept this. This is all too much. I’ve been haunted by fairy lights, attacked by fisherman and made to wade thought fog as thick as a down coverlet. That and the beast,” she trailed off. It would come back, wouldn’t it? She’d been trying to keep her spirits up and hoping that when she found her father everything would be alright.
But it wouldn’t, would it? The beast lived in the ballroom. Something was bringing her biscuits and had imprisoned her father. If it was the house than the house was probably owned by the beast. They were going to be eaten.
“Grace, Grace! I’m sorry. You’re right, we’ll get out of this somehow. Grace, listen to my voice!” She felt pressure on her shoulder and stared distantly at her father who’d come to stand right in front of her, only inches away. He peered at her, concerned. She snapped back into focus in time to deflect a raspberry biscuit he was trying to press to her lips. She pushed her father away.
“Alright, Father, I’m fine, really I am.” She wasn’t but she couldn’t just collapse, it would only make matters worse.
Johan flinched as something flitted down from the ceiling and fell upon his head. It was a sheet of paper. He examined it and looked at Grace with worried eyes.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure I should say.”
Grace snatched the paper and read it. She grinned triumphantly at her father. “At least one of us will get out.” She shoved the little chest at him and he took it reluctantly. She handed him the sack she had brought as well.
“Grace-,” he began but she had already taken the convenient pen which lay beside the biscuits and the more recent addition, the teacup and saucer, and signed on the line.
I Grace agree to exchange my life for the life of my father to take his place within the Aisling Estate. A life for a life and the secret is maintained.
With the final flourish, Grace looked up to say goodbye, but her father was already gone. She peered around the room in a daze and then sat in the arm chair. She picked up the tea cup and took a long draught from it. It was done. She was alone. Her family need never worry about her again.
The doors to the library burst open, causing the flames in the fireplace to shudder and jerk. A terrifyingly familiar scent tickled Graces nostrils and she turned to see a gargantuan wolf bound into the room. He was green as the winter sea and large as a bear.
Grace hissed and yowled and found herself perched atop the armchair. Her clothes began to bag and her voice became more hoarse and she stared at the great beast in terror. The clothing fell into the seat of the chair and the pale orange tabby stared with pale blue eyes full of terror at the much larger creature. The cat was long and muscular and barely managed to crouch atop the chair, being extremely large for a tabby. She dug her claws in and waited, watching and shaking.
Chapter Fourteen: Pearlescent
The wolf stopped in its tracks and stared at the creature hanging on for dear life atop the high backed chair. He sat back on his haunches and began to change, becoming smaller and distinctly less green until a tall man with pale skin and the most amazing eyes sat on the ground where the beast had been, utterly at home despite his undignified position.
He stood smoothly and approached the cat, one hand out. She watched, her thumping heart slowing. She returned to human form and slid down the chair, hiding her breast and other sensitive bits behind the high back as she knelt on the seat, peering at the man from over the top of the chair.
“Beth wht ti?”
He took another step and Grace flinched.
“Cait Sidh?”
She watched him, noticing his smooth gait, his tattered waistcoat and trousers and his unblemished face. He was clearly an adult but had no beard nor stubble that would lead to one. No shadow marred his jaw line either.
“What are you?” she asked. She thought of the creature she had just seen, much as it pained her.
“Lycanthrope?”
The man studied her for a little longer and she returned the favor. He shook his head, closing his brilliant green eyes in pain and turned towards the exit to the room. The doors slammed closed just as he was about to go through and he stumbled back a few steps.
Grace giggled nervously despite herself. She was trapped in a library with a shapeshifter, and she was naked! She began to wonder at the house’s motives on preferring herself to her much older and, above all, male, father.
The man turned back towards her and his form melted back into that of the great wolf. As she watched, paralyzed in fear and only her neck able to move so that she could watch his path, he padded over to the fire and laid down on the rug by the hearth, his head away from her.
Grace watched him for a bit longer and then curled up in the chair. She was afraid to make any sudden movements and covered herself with her dress instead of putting it back on. Surprisingly, sleep came quickly though perhaps unconsciousness was more accurate. Her body, already quite stressed, collapsed.
Grace woke to something hard underneath her head. Her sleep had been deep but vague shadows echoed in her thoughts. She sat up and pulled the afghan over her unclothed body then pulled her erstwhile pillow, a large, leather bound book with copper binding into her lap and stared at it.
Fully awake, as was her custom, more so in an unfamiliar place, she checked around the library, peering around the chair timidly but she could neither see nor smell the shapeshifter. With a sigh she took a sip of welcome tea, which she had already begun to expect whenever she wanted, and opened the volume.
Chapter Fifteen: Verdigris
On the mores it was cool, the heather soft and the salty breeze refreshing. Phelan sat on the cliff’s edge and watched the waves come in. His fur was ruffled and he panted, enjoying himself. The wind shifted and a familiar scent ran across the pup’s nose. He turned and barked.
“Maeve, are we going back already?”
The tall women nodded.
“You should change.”
Phelan sighed and then switched forms to a small boy dressed in heather green. He came to join his elder, his raven head barely coming up to her waist.
“Can we come back soon, aunt?”
The tall, golden haired fey nodded.
“We shall return. You need movement if I am to keep you out of trouble and away from the family at court.”
Phelan stared up at the woman, admiring the pale silk curtain that fell around her long, striking features. He liked Maeve. She humored him and made sure he was alright instead of ignoring him like the rest of the family. She took his hand and they stepped through the veil into the other world.
There were others on the other side, dancing among the emerald grasses which graced the bright landscape instead of the heather and moss on the human side. Also unlike the mundane side, not a cloud was in the sky which shone cobalt blue. The fairies flitted among the grasses, perhaps playing or perhaps engaging in some feud of their own. Given the impassioned nature of the smaller fair folk, either choice was a distinct possibility.
They hurried past and into the mound, ducking through the entrance, Maeve pulling the young Phelan along. The entrance to the mound was narrow and dark for what seemed like forever and then they emerged into great open space that was the court. Maeve peered around, her eagle gold eyes narrowed but the large open space and especially the silverwork throne, were vacant.
Aisling turned to Phelan and crouched beside him. She brushed a green-black lock of hair back against his head with her long fingers, her cold eyes holding on his.
“Go to your chambers, little wolf. I have business to attend to.”
“Yes aunt,” said Phelan. He felt disappointed but couldn’t disobey her. The court could be interesting. Sometimes they fought, sometimes they feasted and sometimes his mother wou
ld appear. He was certain because of her scent, though he had a hard time finding her in the crush of fey. The last time he’d ventured forth to sniff her out, he’d gotten chased away.
“You’ve run out all of your energy, haven’t you. You won’t be slipping out to disturb the family or the court, will you.”
Phelan knew she was not asking questions, merely making statements He nodded obediently.
Maeve nodded. She turned Phelan around and gave him a small shove. He went off running and didn’t stop until he’d slipped through the little hole that led to his little den. The space was mostly a bed and a few shelves built into the earthen walls, the whole thing awash with poppets and ropes and bones and gnawed carcasses of small animals. Phelan stretched and changed back into his preferred form. He shook, chewed one back leg and then settled down to crack some bones. He wanted to go fishing soon. The bones had a lighter crunch which was quite satisfying.
Phelan woke to chaos and a hand on his scruff. He barked when he was yanked from his den and struggled until Maeve’s sharp gaze forced him to calm. Finally still, he waited for her to speak. Maeve always had a reason for what she did. She was quite cold blooded, part of why he thought she had been given the task of minding him. She wouldn’t steer him wrong, something that he couldn’t trust the others in the mound not to do.
“Phelan.”
Phelan barked and did his best to attend to Maeve.
“Little wolf, you need to go. There’s a coup. Any who don’t defend will die.”
With those words, Maeve set him down on the packed dirt floor. His form resolved into that of a boy and he stood.
“Where do I go, Aisling?”
“Go through the veil. You can have all the time on the mores that you desire.”
With a joyful leap, Phelan changed back into his wolf pup form. He raced past Aisling and down the corridor, dodging into the main hall. He stopped dead, sliding and whimpered. There was blood everywhere and bits and gobs of things and fluids, probably also blood, in a rainbow of colors. Phelan rushed forward, skirting the wall, terrified. In the corner of one eye he sensed movement and he dodged, hearing the thunk of a spear land to one side of his small body.
