by B. J. Smash
He spoke loudly over his shoulder. “It is not dead, it's just old. And you never, never fell a rowan tree. It's also connected to the fairies. It would be inglorious bad luck to fell that tree.”
This was the second time that he'd mentioned fairies. I suppose if there were such things as witches, then why not fairies? Even my great-grandfather Edmund used to talk about fairies in the garden. I thought I'd seen one once, flitting from flower to flower and almost like a butterfly, but it was a white light. Again, I'd blocked that from memory. It hadn't fit inside my shoebox for long.
“And we also have the Fae. They are human-sized, some even taller. We call them the Regal Folk, the Good Folk, the Wise Ones.”
Now he was trying to fill me with bull, for sure. “Fairies and Fae? Or rather, Regal Folk? C'mon, Ian. For real?”
“Yes, for real. Miss Seaforth, I never lie. Take my word for it, they exist. There are the good ones, and the bad ones. Kind of like how humans are, in a way. The bad are Unseelie. The good are the Seelie.”
“Well, what's the difference between fairies and Fae then?”
“Fairies are here for nature. They help things grow. The Fae are like cousins—they also tend to nature, but not so much. They have other business to attend. They also watch over the fairies.”
“Okay…if you say so,” I said.
We had arrived at the gate. He told me to try and open it. I lifted the latch and pulled. He was telling the truth; I couldn't get it to move.
He smiled. “Told you so.”
“Okay, I believe you,” I said.
“You should believe everything I say. I'm quite knowledgeable in many areas.” He wheeled forward and lifted the latch and pulled, while wheeling backward. “See you in a while. If I happen to not be here, Drumm can open the gate.”
“So, Drumm is allowed to open the gate? But not me?”
“In time, Miss Seaforth. In time.” He motioned for me to walk out, shutting the gate behind me. “Have fun.”
I looked back to see him he pull out a cigar, cut the end, and light it. Apparently he would wait for me.
I walked on for a few moments, and when I didn't see Drumm, I wondered if something had happened to him. Had the old man, Izaill, done something to him?
Finally, I spotted him walking toward me.
“Hello,” I said when we met.
He nodded his head once for a reply.
Immediately, I brought up the subject of the old man. “That old man. Ian called him Izaill—”
“Shhhh. Don't say his name too loud.” Drumm scolded me. “He's taken care of for now. I have already informed Izadora of his presence. She is taking care of it as we speak.”
“What do you mean, ‘taking care of it’?”
“She's sending him a message. He won't bother you again—at least he shouldn't.”
“But he freaked me out and…Ian said he was dangerous!” I squealed.
“No harm will come to you, from the likes of him.”
He stood with his thumbs in his pockets. On his back hung the satchel with the bow and arrows. His turquoise, large almond-shaped eyes were way too pretty. For some reason, I had really begun to like this boy of few words. Definitely not in a flirty way, but more of a friendly way. At least that's what I told myself. I decided to trust him. If he said no harm would come to me, then I believed him.
“Ready to run?” he asked.
“Sure.” My legs had already begun to tingle with energy.
He sped off, and I chased after him through the dark forest that smelled of pine.
Running for a half hour or so, he slowed. My legs felt better already. I sped up to run next to him.
“Will you be able to enter Magella's boat tonight?” He talked with ease, not even slightly winded from running.
“I'm all set to stay at my aunt’s café. I should be able to complete the mission,” I said, a bit winded from the speeds we had been going, but not too bad.
“You nervous?”
I thought about it, and, yes, I was nervous. Nervous as hell. But I wouldn't admit it to him. “Nah. I'll be fine.”
“Good, then. You will be fine. I wish I could go with you, but I cannot.”
“I'll be fine,” I said a final time.
We raced throughout the forest for quite some time, until we reached an area that was too breathtaking not to stop.
“Let's walk for a minute,” I suggested.
“Tired?”
“Not at all. Just look at this place.”
The path, narrow and washed out in spots, went uphill. It was mostly filled with rocks covered with lichen and moss the color of lime, and a little stream flowed over the path at an angle. Bright green ferns lined the path. Ivy circled the yew trees, reaching up into the branches.
“What is this place?”
“This path leads to the coast, which is straight ahead. We won't be going that far today—we don't have time.”
“I didn't know the ocean was back here. Can we go someday?”
He nodded his head yes.
We hiked up the hill, and as it leveled out, Drumm jumped back. He already had his bow with an arrow ready to shoot. How did he move so fast?
“What's wrong?” I whispered.
Before he could answer, two people stepped out on the path. “Oh it's you, Drumm,” someone said.
Drumm put his bow and arrow away. “What are you doing out here? So far from the ocean?”
Two people about our age stood before us. The boy was slightly shorter than Drumm, and the girl was about my height. To put it mildly, they were both bronzed and beautiful. She wore her long, golden hair up in some sort of twist. Her eyes were golden in color. She had the most perfect, slender nose and full lips. A pang of jealousy swept through me. How did one get so pretty?
The boy was beyond description. He had black hair and tight, toned muscles, with perfect lips and a pronounced jawbone. He also had a small cleft in his chin. His eyes were strange, but they were growing on me. Slightly tilted up on the edges, they were blue with purple specks.
I swallowed.
“Ivy?” Drumm had been talking to me. He looked a bit disturbed with my actions.
“Uhh…what?”
“I said, this is Nicoli and Jina.” He pronounced Nicoli with a long “i” at the end.
“Hi,” I said.
Nicoli held out his hand. Mesmerized, I held out mine to let him clasp it. “Good to meet you too.” His hand was soft and cool.
The girl smiled and nodded my way.
Releasing my hand, he spoke to Drumm. “We are on the lookout. There has been theft attempt on the shoreline.”
Apparently they were lucky enough to live in cottages by the sea.
“Have they been successful in any way?” Drumm asked.
“One tried, but we chased him into the forest. On Gala-Andra's orders. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten very far.” He frowned.
“I'll see if I can find out anything,” Drumm said. Anxious to leave, he said, “Good-bye then, until the next time we meet.”
They struck fists. Drumm caught my arm and hauled me off, running toward home.
I didn’t know why, but it kind of bummed me out that I didn't even get one good last look at the young man.
When he stopped at some rhubarb plants, a few miles away from Nicoli and Jina, I asked, “Why were you in a hurry to get away from them?”
He bit his bottom lip and squinted his eyes before he said, “It's not good for you to be around them for long.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a hand flap, as though he were dismissing the subject.
He picked two stalks from a rhubarb plant and handed one to me. My mouth watered before I took a bite. I could already taste the tartness of the plant. After taking a bite, my face puckered up. “Sour. I love it.”
He ate it as though it were watermelon. Not even a twitch touched his face.
“We better head back now, but we must stop
at Izadora's first. She will want to speak with you.”
Chapter Eleven
When we walked in to Izadora's, she was in the living room where the big tree grew up through the floor, with all of its hanging bottles and various items displayed on the limbs. She sat by the fireplace, using an end table to write a letter on.
“I'll be with you in a moment.” She stuck the letter in an envelope and sealed it with wax from a candle. Then she stamped it with the foot of a dead animal—it looked as though it were a bird’s foot—and put it in the pocket of her blue robe-dress.
“Would you like me to mail that for you, Izadora?” I asked, thinking I was being helpful.
She just looked at me. She pushed herself up after a few tries, using the arms of the chair, and walked to the fireplace. She held her hands over a small pile of kindling and recited some words, and a fire blazed. She retrieved the letter from her pocket and tossed it into the fire, mumbling a few words under her breath. It slowly burned to nothing.
She certainly had a way with fire; I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Then again, it was Izadora. If I had my doubts before, they were banished from mind, and at this point I was certain she was some sort of witch. It made me feel almost nervous, but in a way it exhilarated me. She'd be the one to get my father back.
Confused, I asked, “Why would you do that?”
She sighed. “I am sending a letter to my brother, Izaill. I've threatened his very existence. He should not bother you during the day, when I am…awake. However, you are more or less on your own at night. There is only so much I can do during sundown and sunup. Be extra careful when you enter Magella's houseboat tonight. ”
“Your brother? H—he is your brother?” I stammered.
“Of course. The old fool,” was all she said.
All right, things had just gotten too weird for me. What the hell kind of family was this? I set the thoughts aside, and tried to stay calm. It wouldn't do for me to have a breakdown in front of everyone.
“How, um…you just sent him a letter by burning it in the fire?” I asked.
Drumm snickered. “Ivy, that's how they do it.”
“You have a lot to learn. That much I am certain of,” Izadora said as she waddled to the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. She appeared much older than she had yesterday. Perhaps she hadn't slept well the night before.
“You can't stay here long. It will be sundown soon. But I will tell you what I have learned about Izaill and why he had your father,” Izadora said.
My mouth dropped. “Izaill took him? But why?”
“He's opened a can of worms, he has. He could never leave anything alone. Always has to be prying in others’ affairs…just like Magella. Two peas in a pod, they are,” she said.
“How so?” I asked.
She stood at the stove, over a pot of water. She didn't turn the stove on; she just held her hand above the pot and, voilà, the water was brought to a boil. Several opened glass bottles sat upon the counter. She took a pinch from each one and added them to the water. An earthy smell filled the kitchen.
Drumm leaned back on the front door, his arms crossed. I sat in a single wooden chair and waited for her to tell me about Izaill.
“Izaill has one interest.” She stopped speaking. I noticed she didn't say his name in a hushed tone like everyone else did.
I had to ask. “Why don't you say his name in a whisper like everyone else does?”
She looked at me as though I were daft. “Why would I do that? If he wants to show up for the mere fact that I spoke his name aloud, let him. I do not fear Izaill. I'll put him in his place.” She stirred the contents of the pot. “Now, do you want to hear what he wants or not?”
“I do.”
“He has taken an interest in you and your sister. You are Seaforths. You are allies with the McCallister family—true, loyal friends. It has always been that way, and it will always be that way. The families are tied like a knot. The older generation of Seaforths is aware of all McCallister secrets.”
“I don't understand what that has to do with anything.” I knew the McCallisters and Seaforths had always been neighbors—and of course, they were good friends—but how good, I didn't care.
“McCallisters own the woods in these parts. The whole thing. Seaforths have always catered to them, worked for them, helped them. Izaill wants the woods for himself. He wants to turn the next generation of Seaforths against the McCallisters. That would be you and Zinnia. And what better way to get under your skin than by stealing your father? If he can own you, he will have the upper hand. As you know, your grandparents grow old. You will one day take their place, regardless of your own wishes.” She removed the pot from the stove, dumping the contents through a cheese cloth and into a clay mug.
“Own us? And I don't plan on living in Maine for much longer.”
She chuckled and exchanged a knowing look with Drumm.
“He has your father already, but I shall have him returned. My sister has already tried to get her hooks into Zinnia, on Izaill’s behalf. But you—you have turned to me. Wise choice. I will protect you until my last breath. I would rather die than have him own these woods. He would do terrible things with the power this land holds.” She looked me in the eye. “But one thing is for certain: I need that rolling pin.”
The pressure was on. I had to get the rolling pin, no matter what.
I barely listened to her about how the land had power; I didn't care. After I had my father back, we were leaving Maine. But when she mentioned my sister, I felt uneasy.
“What do you mean? Magella has tried to get her hooks into my sister, to do what?”
“She has offered her what she considers a good deal. Whether she has accepted, I do not know yet.”
“A good deal?”
“Extension of life.”
I watched Izadora furtively, doubting what she said. Sometimes I wondered if she were senile, despite her ability to make the water boil on command. But when she snapped her fingers and made a saltshaker appear, I relinquished my thoughts.
“You doubt what I say? I myself could give a person two thousand years of life, added to their own life. But it is playing with fate. I will not do it.”
Thinking of the night before, I told Izadora about Zinnia possibly putting something into my tea to make me sleep.
“It is as I feared, then. I believe she has fallen for my sister’s offer.”
I began to chew my nails, my thoughts becoming fuzzy. I couldn't lose my sister to a pair of old crazies. Izaill and Magella had to be stopped. I looked to Izadora.
She took a needle out from her pocket, and I knew what was coming. She pricked her finger and held it over the mug, letting a drop of blood hit the contents.
I wrinkled my face. “Not again.”
“Do you want to be protected or not? Drink. This concoction will enhance the protection that already exists within you. As I have stated before, if you are in trouble, I will know. But like I said, help is scarce during the night hours.” And then she added, “For now.”
I didn't know what occupied her during the evening, but I would do as she said. I would have to be so careful when entering Magella's boat. I would be on my own.
I took the mug and drank the liquid, holding my nose so I wouldn't taste the bitter contents.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.
“Blah,” I said.
“We will go now, before the sun sets,” Drumm said.
***
On the way back to Ian's gate, I asked Drumm where he slept at night.
“Sleep? I don't sleep much. But when I do, it's on the steps of Izadora's tree house, with the dogs. We must continually guard Izadora. While I am away, they always stay alert and on guard.”
“I see.” I pictured him laying his head on one of the dogs for twenty minutes a night, and the rest of the time, his bow and arrow was ready to shoot trespassers.
“Who would bother her?”
“Ther
e are a few that wish her harm. It's hard to explain. Maybe another time. You must get to your aunt's café.”
Surprisingly, Ian was not at the gate. Drumm let me through. After all, he was privileged enough to open the McCallister gate, and I was not.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
Drumm nodded his head.
I walked through the path of death and onto the cherry tree lane. A smooth, calm breeze swept through the path, bringing blossoms with it. A whoosh sound carried throughout the treetops, and the limbs swayed. The sun set a pinkish hue, creating an enchanting atmosphere.
I had begun to jog to Ian's, but I slowed to a walk. My skin prickled, and I felt as though I were being watched. After a few more steps, I heard a tap-tap-tap of feet behind me, as though someone were on the path. I turned to see no one. A gust of wind blew through the trees again; my hair blew across my eyes. I pulled it back, preparing to use the elastic I kept around my wrist, but I was sorely shocked to see someone standing in the path blocking my way.
My stomach tightened, causing it to hurt for a few seconds. I let out a breath that I sucked in too fast. Ian's sister stood before me. Her face was alight with a sunny smile. She wore a yellow sundress, and her feet were bare.
“Hello,” I said uneasily.
She did not reply with words, but waved.
“How are you?” I said, not knowing what else to say.
She looked pleased but did not say anything. She moved to the side and I slowly walked by; the hair on my arms stood up on end.
“Have a nice evening,” I said as I passed. I walked swiftly once I passed, turning once to look over my shoulder. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, swinging her hips from side to side, watching me as I sped away.
Creepy. The girl was downright creepy. She looked young, too—younger than Ian by several years. I guess Old Sam had kids well into his fifties. He had to be in his nineties by now.
I had to wonder why she wouldn't speak to me. Maybe she was just shy. Regardless, she gave me the willies, and I hoped I would never run into her again.
