Darkling Green

by Kim Thompson

  Just then a small, ugly man crept out of the bushes and snuck up to the goat, who was around the corner of the hut and out of sight of the girl. Willa had never seen anything like him. His arms reached the ground, his skin was pale with a greenish tinge, and he was dressed in filthy leather garments. He reached stealthily for the rope around the goat’s neck. Though he was being perfectly silent, the girl suddenly stopped, listening. She shook her head in irritation and held out her hands with the palms upward. As she stared intently, a whirling ball of black smoke began to form above them.

  Willa blinked. Now that’s interesting.

  When the smoke had grown to the size of a soccer ball, the girl threw it. The smoke curved neatly around the corner and hit the little man in the face. He staggered back, spluttering, and when the smoke cleared, his face was covered in soot.

  “Get away wi’ ye, ugly wart of a goblin!” hollered the girl as she walked up. “Ye’ll not be gettin’ my goat today, or any other day!”

  The goblin fled into the trees, and Willa decided she liked this strange girl. The girl gave her goat a quick hug and looked around.

  “Where have ye gone, Loom? It’s time we made our deliveries,” she called out.

  Willa ducked out of sight as the girl looked her way. Then she heard a meow, and a cat’s face appeared in the opening of the well, looking down at her. It was a mangy old black cat with half of one ear missing and fringes of grey around its eyes like shaggy eyebrows.

  “What is it, Loom?” asked the girl, her face appearing next to the cat’s, and she looked down at Willa with wide-set, brilliant violet eyes.

  What have we here then? The message came loud and clear into Willa’s mind as she stared back with a shock of recognition. Unmistakable. Those were the eyes she had seen in her dreams. She felt for a moment that she might be dreaming again.

  The girl frowned. “Do I know ye?”

  “No,” answered Willa. “I don’t think so.”

  The strange girl bit her lip thoughtfully. “Did you steal me bucket?”

  “Um, no.”

  “What about granting wishes? Are ye a pixie?”

  “No, I’m not magic at all. My name’s Willa. What’s your name?”

  “Gwyneth,” the girl answered. “If you’re not magic, how do ye happen to pop out of a holy well?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Willa. “It was just an accident me coming out here. Is it really holy?”

  Gwyneth nodded vigorously. “Aye, for hundreds of years! And it’s my family that’s been looking after it all that time.” Something small appeared on the top of her head, looking out sleepily from the tangle of black hair. Willa was surprised to see it was a fairy.

  “Look, Hawthorn,” said Gwyneth matter-of-factly. “See what Loom found in the well.” The fairy whispered into Gwyneth’s ear.

  “Nay,” the girl guffawed. “I dinna conjure her. I’m not that good yet.” The cat snorted.

  “Are you a magician?” asked Willa.

  “Nay,” said Gwyneth. “I’m a witch.”

  Willa looked at her with new admiration. “That is so cool.”

  Gwyneth gave her a funny look. “Em, what?”

  “It’s impressive, I mean.”

  “’Tis just a job,” shrugged Gwyneth, giving Willa another long, hard stare. “I canna help but think I’ve met ye before somewhere.” Her face softened into a smile. “And I’ve a funny feelin’ we’re friends.”

  Willa smiled back. She wanted to tell her about the dreams but thought it would be too weird.

  Then Gwyneth sighed and shook her head. “I’d love to set an’ figure it out, but I’ve got to be gettin’ back to work. You’re welcome to come and visit, Willa, anytime at all.” She started back toward her hut.

  “Thank you,” said Willa. She watched Gwyneth slip the large sword into a sheath hanging from her belt and gather up her bundle of herbs.

  As she marched off into the trees, Gwyneth called back over her shoulder, “Come for Beltane, ’twill be a lively time!” Then she disappeared into the woods. Her cat followed, looking back at Willa with its tail curled into a question mark.

  Willa descended into the darkness and started back. She really liked this strange girl. So strong and confident. And brave!

  Her eyes are the eyes from my dream, that’s for sure. But what does it all mean? It was only then that she remembered about time holes drifting and realized she wouldn’t be able to return. Her eyes filled with tears. Considering she’d only talked to Gwyneth for a couple of minutes, she was surprised at how sad she felt. It was like she’d discovered a long-lost friend, or even a sister, only to lose her again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mermaids and remorse

  The next day, Willa joined Argus on the front porch. She felt a little guilty for shouting at Oberon and asked Argus if the fairy king was still angry with her.

  “I don’t think so. He’s actually quite cheerful today. I’m not sure why, unless it’s because he’s made friends with the spider.”

  “Tabitha?” asked Willa in surprise. “I thought he was scared to death of her.”

  “I saw her talking to him after your little argument yesterday. They had a nice long chat and have been on good terms ever since.”

  “That’s good, I guess,” Willa said. “What did they talk about?”

  Argus looked hurt. “I draw the line at eavesdropping,” he said. “Very unprofessional.”

  “All right. What does Mab think about this new friendship?”

  “She was furious at first, but Oberon’s fairies are building something in secret.” Argus led her into the parlour. In a corner of the room, what looked like a small circus tent covered an end table. From within came the sound of hammering and sawing.

  Argus lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mab’s certain it’s a surprise present for her, so she’s not quite so angry with him.”

  Willa winced. “Why does that just make me more worried?”

  Argus smiled. “Because every time a problem is solved around here, three new ones pop up?”

  “Yep,” said Willa with a sigh.

  Belle was already in the pool waiting for her. “Hurry up!” she urged. “The time hole is lined up perfectly today! Hurry!”

  Willa had planned to tell her about Gwyneth, but Belle was off like a shot, leading the way to the larger bubble. They plunged together into the dark corridor.

  When they reached the other side, Willa looked out into a round room with a vast vaulted ceiling of stained glass, through which a pale light shone. The arching walls were gold, carved with elegant patterns. In the centre of the room was a sparkling fountain, above which floated a large glowing orb with hundreds of tiny fish swimming in and out of it.

  Willa stared in wonder at the dazzling sight, then at Belle, who suddenly looked about twenty years younger. Belle swung her tail around and sat on the edge of the portal, so Willa did the same, dangling her feet.

  Then there was a sudden rush as a dozen lithe mermaids crowded around them. They stared at Willa with immense eyes, and though they didn’t speak out loud, she could hear their excited chatter in her head.

  What’s this? Who is it? I saw them first! Who is she? What is she? Look at her!

  Willa felt a sudden embarrassment about having legs. Smiling, Belle put her arm around Willa’s shoulders.

  This is my granddaughter. Willa felt reassured and proud as the mermaids reached out to touch her and run their fingers through her hair.

  After a while the mermaids lost interest in them and scooted about the room, playing games, chasing and dodging each other. Then they slipped away, one by one, until Willa and Belle were left alone. Belle took her hand, and they swam back down the dark corridor.

  Gliding by the mirrors, Willa marvelled at her own reflection each time. Is that me? Is it really, really me
? Could I really belong with them, in that amazing place?

  Emerging from the time hole, the pool water seemed murky and uninteresting. Willa rose to the surface with a sigh.

  Belle eyed her happily. “Just a little taste of my old home,” she said. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, Belle,” gushed Willa without thinking. “Why did you leave? It’s so beautiful!”

  Belle’s face grew solemn. “I was restless. I couldn’t help but go back and forth between the sea and the world.” Then she smiled. “Humans can be pretty interesting.”

  “So you went back and forth,” prompted Willa. “And then?”

  “You can’t keep that up for too long before it starts taking its toll on your body. For a long while I lost the ability to breath underwater.” Belle paused, gazing into the distance. Then she went on, shaking her head at the memory. “Horrible. I got it back, thankfully, but breathing air for so long caused my body to change, and now my heart can’t take the deep sea pressure.” She flipped her tail in the water, splashing Willa. “Nice place to visit, but I can’t live there.”

  Willa helped her out of the pool and into her robe and chair. “Is that so bad?” she finally asked.

  “Not so bad,” smiled Belle, and they went inside.

  Then came another weekend. Willa woke up Saturday morning thinking about water. The craving was even worse than the weekend before. Swimming was all she could think about. She took a bath on Saturday morning, and when her mom went out to a hair appointment in the afternoon, she took another bath. She knew her dad wouldn’t notice she was in the tub again, and she was right.

  After dinner she tried to think of a reason to take yet another bath, but she couldn’t. Instead, she filled a large mixing bowl with water and snuck it into her room, where she periodically plunged her face into it.

  I am such a weirdo, she mused.

  On Sunday they visited Grandpa. As they sat in his beachfront bungalow, the sound of waves nearly drove Willa mad. She took a long, long walk on the beach by herself, and stared out at the surf. A swimming pool was one thing, but the ocean? What would it be like to swim out there? Was she really over her fear? She dug down deep but couldn’t find the old terror. It seemed to have been replaced by a new tingling, restless excitement. Pulling off her rubber boots and socks, she stood barefoot in the water and wiggled her toes in the sand.

  It doesn’t make sense. Phobias don’t disappear like that. They don’t vanish without a trace.

  How did she become afraid of the water in the first place? Was it just because her mom was always warning her about it? Had she picked up her mom’s fear somehow?

  She stared at the water. Each time the waves receded she could feel them pulling her, and she waded deeper, following the water out….

  “Willa! Time to go home!” her dad called.

  Willa jumped guiltily, grabbed her boots, and sprinted back to the house. That night at home she took another bath, an extra long one. Her mom knocked once to make sure she was all right, and when Willa emerged in her robe, her mom gave her a long, hard look.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, why?” Willa sauntered casually to her room. She knew her cocky attitude would drive her mom nuts, but she was carried forward on a wave of pride. And guilt.

  I am lying to her. She has a right to be suspicious.

  But I’ve got a right to my privacy. She doesn’t need to know where I am every minute of the day.

  You are swimming! That is huge. You have to tell her.

  If she was more reasonable, I’d tell her. But she’s not, and I don’t need her flipping out on me again.

  Her thoughts countered each other, back and forth. She went to bed early just so the mental debate would end. Her busy brain finally settled on one happy thought:

  Tomorrow I’ll go for a swim!

  Chapter Twenty

  A surprising return

  After the longest weekend of her life and the longest iMonday at school, Willa fairly sprinted to Eldritch Manor. The sun peeked through ragged clouds, and the air was warm. She found Argus sitting on the porch.

  “Hi, Argus. Did you see? The third floor is started!” exclaimed Willa, joining him. The second floor looked pretty much complete, and above it the white beams were starting to outline the third floor.

  Argus just grunted. His chin rested in his hand, and he looked wearier than usual.

  “What’s up?”

  “Old age, Willa. It’s no fun. I’ve got aches in my joints, arthritis, back pain. Even worse, some of my eyes are acting up! My vision’s been blurry all weekend. I think I’m getting cataracts.”

  “You should see an eye doctor,” Willa said without thinking. Argus raised an eyebrow. “Or not.” Willa smiled. “But at least you’ve got extra eyes for backup.”

  That didn’t seem to cheer him up much.

  “Would you like me to take a look? Which eyes are blurry?”

  “Mostly in the back,” answered Argus. He turned, pointing to the eyes on the back of his neck and skull. Willa stepped closer. Right away she could see that they were obscured by fine white strands, hundreds of them crisscrossing each eye.

  “The only thing wrong with your eyes is that they’re covered with something,” she told him. “Have you got a handkerchief?”

  Argus handed her a hankie, and Willa carefully cleared away the fuzzy white strands. Once cleared, the eyes blinked and stared at her. Willa shivered.

  “Much better! Thank you, Willa,” exclaimed Argus. “What was covering them?”

  Willa showed him the hankie. “Tiny threads. Almost like cobwebs.”

  Argus looked perplexed. “Hmm.”

  Willa moved toward the steps. “Well, I was just going to go for a swim.”

  “Wait, I’ll give you my report.” Argus rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. “Eldritch Manor surveillance report, April nineteenth. Um. Let’s see. Miss Trang hasn’t woken yet. I haven’t heard a peep from her all weekend. Horace and Tengu are still shut up with the basilisk. The fairies had another party, lutes and harps playing until dawn. Drove me crazy. Baz ate a scorpion this morning, but it doesn’t seem to have affected her. I think she’s got a cast-iron stomach.”

  “Great. Thanks, Argus.” Willa edged down the steps, eager to go.

  “Baz is also going on and on about someone messing around in her room yesterday. I didn’t see anyone go in there, but with my eyes mucked up I wasn’t really at my best….”

  He looked so glum that Willa patted him on the back (doing her best to avoid poking any eyes). “Don’t worry, Argus. You’re doing a wonderful job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to—” She started to move again.

  “And …”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re out of milk,” Argus said sadly. “No milk for tea.”

  “Tell Baz, she’s the one who buys the groceries.”

  “She says she’s too busy.”

  Willa smiled. “Okay, I’ll run and get some.”

  She hurried to the corner store and returned with the milk, which she handed to Argus. “Make yourself some tea. I’m just going to go for a swim—”

  CRASH! Willa jumped as thunder shook the whole neighbourhood. The heavens opened, and rain poured down. She and Argus exchanged surprised looks.

  “Mab,” they both said together.

  They heard shouting as soon as they opened the door. The air was so electric, Willa got a huge shock from the doorknob. The parlour lights were flickering, and there was a furious hum as Mab flew around and around in circles, shooting sparks in all directions. The rabbits stood on guard in front of the end table. The tent-like covering was gone, revealing a compact but elegant doll’s house, an old-fashioned mansion with pillars in front.

  “Mab! Mab! What’s wrong?” Willa shouted.

  The blur came to a
standstill, and Mab appeared in sharp focus, all jagged edges, with wild hair and wilder eyes. She began to squeal at such a high pitch that Willa could barely hear it. Argus leaned in to listen.

  “Something about the dollhouse, but I can’t quite make it out,” he said finally. “She’s reaching frequencies that only dogs can hear properly.”

  “What’s wrong with the dollhouse? I think it’s beautiful,” said Willa.

  Mab howled in rage, then began squealing again. Argus listened, finally grimacing.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Willa.

  “The dollhouse,” he explained sadly, “is not for Mab. Oberon had it built for Tabitha.”

  Mab flew to the front of the house, but the rabbits closed ranks to keep her from reaching it. She began zapping them, and they cowered behind their shields.

  “Mab! Stop it at once!” came Oberon’s sharp voice from behind them.

  Willa turned to see Oberon in the doorway, riding on Tabitha’s back. He slid to the ground, and the rabbits snapped to attention. Tabitha scuttled between them and began clambering into the dollhouse through a large front window.

  “Wait, Tabitha,” called Willa.

  The spider paused in the window and looked up brightly. “Yes, darlin’?”

  Willa held out Argus’s handkerchief. “I need your expertise. What do you think these are? Are they spider-made?”

  Tabitha peered closely at the strands with her big eyes, tutting disapprovingly. “Hmm. Very crude work. Definitely not spider. Coccoon silk from a caterpillar, maybe?”

  They were interrupted by a new ruckus. Mab was shooting sparks at Oberon, who took refuge in a teacup on the coffee table. Willa dashed between them, and Mab zapped her in the kneecap.

  “Ouch! Stop it, Mab!”

  Mab hung back. Oberon peeked over the rim of the teacup and stuck out his tongue. Mab growled. Smoke rose from her head.