by P. K. Brent
“Well, at least Stella has cool hair," Ivy relented. "But you and your friends are so weird,” replied Ivy. “There’s nothing funny about those cute Mantooth boys is there?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, right Ivy, they’re all just werewolves,” Blue retorted sarcastically.
"Time to go girls," Grandma Lily called. "Grandpa Lou will drop you two off back home on his way to the Hawley place."
"What type of pest is he dealing with at the Hawley's?" asked Blue.
"Emergency cockroach problem," replied Grandma Lily. "Mrs Hawley is hysterical. It won't take long, so Grandpa Lou can manage it alone." Blue did not object to missing the Hawley cockroach call, since this would give her time to settle the little dragon and look up information about him in the McChesney Bestiary. Besides, cockroaches were easy to exterminate. Blue glanced out the window and could see Grandpa Lou's herd of mechanical cockroaches marching for the buggymobile. Grandpa Lou loved making new gadgets for his pest control business. The robot roaches, as he called them, were made from a combination of dead cockroach parts and old timepiece gears. They were animated by a spell Grandma Lily put on them and followed simple directions. The cockroaches tramped up close to the trunk then hopped in. Once they were all inside, Grandpa Lou tossed an old blanket over them, and slammed the door shut. He could let them loose at a client's house, and since they also were silent, they'd run all through the house for a few days, spraying insectside on any insects that survived his initial attack. Then they'd simply fly home again. He'd spend about five minutes walking around and spraying insecticide, just for appearances. His mechanical cockroaches did all the work.
"You need to go home and get some rest Blue. The 4-H girls are meeting at your house tomorrow. I'll stop over in the morning to help you get refreshments ready. I'd invite you to the meeting Ivy, but I heard that Elizabeth is taking you school shopping," Grandma mentioned politely.
Elizabeth was Ivy's step-mother. Both Blue and Grandma Lily knew that Ivy had no interest in a 4-H meeting, which was convenient, because it was really a meeting for paranormal girls. Exactly the sort of thing they didn't want Ivy to discover. They always called it "the girl's 4-H meeting" if Ivy was around.
"That's right," agreed Ivy. She started to frantically put on her coat and gloves. Blue knew that no way did Ivy ever want to attend. "I can't disappoint Mummy. She has been looking forward to this shopping trip, after so much unpacking and decorating. We're going to Toronto of course."
"Of course," agreed Blue, as they walked outside together, Blue holding the door.
"Ewwww", said Ivy. "Don't tell me we have to ride in that rusty old truck of Grandpa's that says 'Buggy Man Pest Exterminator,' on the side. I hope no one sees me."
"Tell you what, Ivy, I'll take your photo in the Boogeymobile and will post it on Facebook." Ivy made a face at Blue as she stomped across the driveway then hopped into the rusty SUV and slammed the door.
Blue caught Grandpa Lou's eye and she nodded toward the back compartment where the dragon was in a crate under a blanket. Grandpa Lou gave a nod in return. Blue knew that he could smell the dragon with his heightened werewolf senses, before they even reached the car. Besides, he likely discovered it when he was loading his mechanical cockroaches. He turned his back to the truck for a moment and whispered to Blue.
"That breed of dragon you have in the car is not usually found around here. They mostly live high in deep wilderness areas, near lakes or swamps."
"Its wing is hurt. I'll get him on his way again as soon as I can."
Grandpa Lou nodded.
"You need to get him out of here fast, Blue. The Paranormal Council won't tolerate any magical, legendary critters running around. They'll kill him if they find out."
"Yes, I know. I'll have Aunt Violet check his wing and I'll send him away as soon as possible. Until then I'll keep him hidden."
"Another thing, Blue, I know Ivy is a handful but she's going through a lot now, so let's try to be patient with her," he said.
"Sure Grandpa."
Blue was puzzled. Grandpa Lou so rarely involved himself in other people's affairs. His wolf nature kept him removed from that sort of thing. Not once ever had he paid the slightest attention to the minor squabbles that went on between Blue and Ivy. He left it entirely to Grandma Lily or Aunt Violet to sort out that sort of thing if necessary. He must have been referring to Ivy having to move to Lockport and leave all her downstate friends behind.
Ivy looked suspiciously around the truck. "What is that awful smell in back?" Blue was surprised Ivy had noticed since she couldn't smell anything and the dragon had remained quiet. "Just a raccoon, replied Blue. One to be released out at the game preserve."
"Figures," sniffed Ivy. "It's a stinky old raccoon. It smells like a dead fish. So gross."
Chapter 2
After a short drive, Blue was home. She quickly lugged the crate inside the McChesney house, a large, historical, stick style Victorian. Some say that stick style Victorians are a high Victorian elaboration of the Gothic Revival style. Others say it is a transitional style between Gothic Revival and Queen Anne. Either way, the McChesney house was a masterwork of grey stone, shingles, and planks. The shingles were dark green with small seafoam green scallopped shingles highlighting features, and pale grey-green stick boards outlining the architecture of the house. Vintage ruby paint highlighted the windows, porches and trim. No one ever forgot the McChesney House once they had seen it.
The house had been built by Blue's great-great grandfather and it now belonged to Blue’s father, Cormac McChesney. Cormac and Blue's mother, Rose, had separated years ago and Rose now lived in the Ireland. Blue was old enough to stay alone when her father was away on business and she enjoyed the solitude. Cormac was a powerful sorcerer of the McChesney Clan, which had druidic ties in Ireland and Scotland. Sometimes he returned home exhausted and smelling of brimstone. He was clearly up to something.
Aunt Violet arrived just as Blue got the dragon out of the crate and onto the kitchen floor. It was a struggle to tape the dragon's jaws shut, but he was immobilized now, and held tightly against Blue's chest.
"I don't feel any broken bones," said Aunt Violet, prodding and stroking his wing. "He probably just has a torn muscle or bad sprain, plus this ugly burn." She smeared the burn with medicinal oil then folded his wing up against his body and wrapped it snugly with a warm herbal compress tucked against it.
"We can't wrap this too tight, the blood needs to circulate freely, but its best if there is some support, and he must give it a rest. You will have to change the bandages and apply more medicinal ointment twice each day."
It was useful having a nurse in the family. Aunt Violet was gifted at healing. Besides her job as a visiting nurse, she ran a little shop in town, called The Grey Owl Shoppe. Aunt Violet was a petite woman in her early 40's with flaming red curls cut short. Her nose was too pointy but somehow fit well in her pretty, fine boned face. People mostly remembered her smile and violet blue eyes. Yet her smile rarely reached those lovely eyes, for she had been unlucky in love and had lost her only beau years before. Aunt Violet was better than most witches at hiding her special talent -- healing -- since she was a nurse. She worked as a visiting nurse and ran her own unique gift and tea shop. In her store Aunt Violet sold subtle medicinal teas and charmed gifts, along with charmed cookies, and herbs.
The dragon stopped struggling once Blue stroked his head and telepathically communicated their intentions to him. She let the dragon know that he would be fed and cared for and released as soon as his wing healed. That calmed the dragon and he nuzzled Blue's hand with his soft nose and leaned toward her with his eyes closed. Aunt Violet began to gently massage the little dragon's wing, moving healing energies through. The dragon made soft snuffling sounds and it was apparent that whatever Aunt Violet was doing felt good.
"Took. I'll name him Took," said Blue, "After the most adventurous line of Hobbits. He looks like a Took, doesn't he?"
"I suppo
se he does," laughed Aunt Violet. "I've never seen such a creature before. Dragons don't live around here. But anything strange is always drawn to Smokey Hollow. Once his wing is better and you release him, little Took will find where he's going. Best if the Paranormal Council doesn't know about this. They take a dim view of anything different."
Blue nodded in agreement, "Yes, Grandpa Lou already pointed that out. He says the Council would kill Took if they find him. I'll put him in the sunroom, in the fountain there, and lock the door. We don't want anyone from the Council to see him tomorrow, when they come for the meeting."
"Sounds like a good plan," replied Aunt Violet.
"I have to run back to The Grey Owl Shoppe now," said Aunt Violet. "A tour bus will be arriving in an hour and they are having dinner at the Pinehurst Hotel and desert at my shop. I'll see you tomorrow morning before the Council meeting and I'll bring cookies," Aunt Violet called as she hurried out the door.
Blue heard LeRoy fluttering down the stairs. He was an ancient crow that had been in Blue's family for at least a couple hundred years, a crazy long time for a crow to live. He was an enchanted bird but no one knew his full story, only that he had belonged to Blue's Great-Great grandfather Cullen McChesney and was old even then. True to his breed, LeRoy was both sociable and crotchety. LeRoy could carry on a conversation like any other person, though he would only do this around paranormal humans. When mundane people were around or when he was miffed, LeRoy behaved like an ordinary crow. He spent most of his time dozing in the sunroom or on a perch in the library. He had his own magic too and could open doors, especially the door to the refrigerator or breadbox. LeRoy made a swift exit from the sunroom as soon as he saw the dragon, and started cursing at full power.
"What is the meaning of this, Belladonna Louisa McChesney? Bringing that cursed, smelly dragon into my home! I will not tolerate this indignity! I swear by the sun, the moon, and the three sacred hills that this abomination better be gone the next time I come downstairs!" LeRoy then fluttered back up the stairs to his perch in the Library.
Blue fed the little dragon then settled him into the basin of the fountain, and set up a kitty litter box nearby, hoping that Took knew what to do with it. Then Blue went to bed, with vague worries that something might go wrong at the Paranormal Council's meeting for girls tomorrow.
Chapter 3
"Explain to me again why we invited the Paranormal Council's girl's group to meet in my house?" Blue asked Aunt Violet. "They don't like you or Grandma and can't stand me."
Stella giggled, "I think the strategy is along the lines of keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
"Exactly," replied Aunt Violet. "It is harder for the Council to malign the McChesneys when their paranormal girl's group meets in the McChesney mansion itself. Maybe half of what they fear is that they don't know the McChesneys well, and that Cormac is so reclusive."
"The other half is what we hope they never find out," muttered Blue under her breath.
"What they don't know won't hurt them," smiled Aunt Violet. "Also it also makes it easier for me to influence the agenda and update topics for girls today. Topics like "Choosing a Mate" have not been updated in 100 years. What if a girl does not wish to take a mate? Plus there is no information about keeping female parts healthy, or choosing a career."
"Oh no," groaned Blue. "Tell me you're not covering that today." Stella giggled some more.
"You'll find out when I get to my session," smiled Aunt Violet.
Blue and Violet rushed from the room to find Grandma Lily in the kitchen putting the final touches onto a tray of smoked salmon with cream cheese tea sandwiches and listening to the radio. She had it tuned to the paranormal station of course. The newscast was just ending.
"Here's a special report about violent magical fighting in the highlands of Scotland. It is reported that a small band of mages have cornered operatives from the Dark Abyss terrorist group. Injuries have been reported."
Grandma Lily quickly flicked off the station.
"I noticed that Grandma. Was my father involved?
I know Cormac is in Scotland. Last time I glimpsed
him in a mirror, he was walking in the highlands, across a moor full of heather."
Like most witches, Blue was psychic. If Blue was thinking of someone she would see glimpses of them in mirrors or other reflective surfaces.
"Don't be silly dear. Here, slice some more cucumbers for me, very thin slices. Then we'll start on the cucumber tea sandwiches. Aunt Violet brought some lovely platters full of cookies and fruit tarts."
"Yes, I tried one of her lemon meringue tarts and it was fabulous, as usual," replied Blue.
"I was about to tell Stella about the little dragon I found in your cistern room last night."
"Where is that strange magical creature?" replied Grandma Lily. "Grandpa Lou told me all about it. Grandpa says your dragon carries a burn wound, as though he'd been under magical attack. We don't want anyone from the Paranormal Council seeing your little dragon, though from the burn marks on him, I fear someone spotted him already and tried to kill him."
"He's resting in the sunroom and I pulled the shades so no one can see him. Aunt Violet checked him over last night. Thanks to the burn, he can’t fly. But he should recover in a few days. I oiled his burn and changed his bandages and gave him a big lunch earlier. He's sleeping now. I think he's nocturnal."
"You found a dragon?" asked Stella.
"A baby dragon," replied Blue. "He's so cute. I'm nursing him back to health then will release him back to the wild. He has an awful burn on one side."
"I've never seen a dragon," replied Stella.
"Grandpa Lou says it's unusual to find one around here. I’ll show him to you later, after everyone leaves."
"Before I forget to tell you, Zerelda Reynard called," Grandma Lily said. She said that her great nephew Quantrill is visiting her. He's going to come in to meet us before running some errands and then will pick her up again later."
"Quantrill," said Blue, trying out the name. "That's an odd name."
"It's an old family name on Zerelda's mother's side. It's French. The Reynard's originally came over from France.
"Doesn't 'reynard' mean fox?"
"Yes, it does," replied Stella giggling. Zerelda looks a little like a fox now that you mention it.
They sat in the kitchen, chatting and helping Grandma Lily with the tea sandwiches. Blue looked out the window and saw that Zerelda and a young man, who must be Quantrill, were walking up the stone stairs to the spacious wrap around porch. Now Zerelda Reynard was peaking through the windows about to ring the bell. They were early of course. So annoying. Quickly Blue ran to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a pinch of salt from the antique stoneware saltbox screwed to the wall and tossed it over her left shoulder with a muttered incantation, absolving herself from seeing strangers step on her porch. It would have been better if she had not seen them, for seeing meant that she gave tacit consent. Aunt Violet scurried to open the front door. Without saying a word, everyone in the kitchen knew that Blue would never invite anyone from the Council into her home, since that opened up the possibility that they might return and enter again, without an invitation. The threshold held magical properties that a McChesney would never dilute. At that same moment LeRoy, the ancient crow that lived in the McChesney house, started to screech "Pretty boy! Pretty boy! Pretty boy is here." Much later Blue discovered that "Quantrill" translated to "pretty boy" in old French.
This was it -- the real thing. Quantrill inhaled deeply as though he could smell power and wealth in the McChesney mansion. Upon entering the stately home, Quantrill was not sensitive enough to realize it, but he was facing a variety of sentinels. He only knew that his mouth suddenly had become dry. The burled walnut chest with Queen Anne legs and original carved pulls, that had guarded the entry hall for four generations, remained silent. However, the limoge pieces on top of it screamed "do not touch!" The mahogany lamp table with rose marble top
and brass clawed feet tentatively smiled, but the cast-iron turtle bearing sword-plant stand sniffed cautiously at Quantrill's knees then growled in a tone Quantrill could not hear. He did not know why he suddenly felt anxious as he ran a finger under the collar of his shirt. Most impressive of all was the girandole above the burled walnut chest. The antique girandole with its beveled mirror in ornate gold leaf frame and lighted twisting candle branches for a second seemed to be reaching for his throat. Quantrill stepped back, perplexed, staring at himself in the mirror. There he saw an uneasy young man with handsome angular features, pale complexion, blond hair, and pale blue eyes. Quantrill saw his nervous reflexion and immediately forced a look of cool composure. A few seconds later, everything seemed perfectly normal to Quantrill and he felt silly for having imagined that the cast iron turtle bearing sword-plant stand had growled at his knees. He glanced at the girandole once more as he checked his hair and straightened his shirt. Blue approached and greeted Quantrill and Zerelda, once they had stepped over the threshold.
"Hello," said Blue. The words almost stuck in her throat, as she disliked the sight of Zerelda Reynard inside the McChesney house.
Introductions were made. Blue glanced up at Quantrill and noted that he was nearly a foot taller than her five foot four inches. Quantrill, at age 19, was four years older than Blue. As the small talk between Zerelda and Aunt Violet continued, Blue learned that Quantrill was in college. They walked into the ladies' parlor. Since the McChesney house was an old Victorian it had a ladies' parlor to the right of the entryway and a gentleman's parlor, with pocket doors, to the left. Blue glanced surreptitiously at Quantrill, who looked slightly bored. He was handsome she decided. His thin face and hawk features fit together well. Most noticeable were his pale blond hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She could feel his power, the way she could feel power from other witches, warlocks, and wolven. It was strange and cold and reminded her of cold dark stones and rotting things. He had an old type of power she had not felt before.
