The Witch and the Hellhound (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 2)

by B. J. Smash

  Looking in my bathroom mirror, I tied the scarf around my hair the same way I’d seen it tied in Aunt Clover’s hair. Looking like a gypsy, I returned to find my father sitting at the table, talking with Lucian.

  I thought Father had gone to the café with Aunt Cora like he had done every day. He said he enjoyed sitting at the café window, watching the bay—although I don’t think my father enjoyed anything at all these days. Most of the time, he stared into space, dreaming of fairyland. They say once the Fae take you and return you, you are never the same. And Father was definitely not himself. I think that he liked staring out into the bay for one reason only. It was a simple explanation: he was looking for Magella. But no one had seen or heard from her ever since Izadora blew her boat to smithereens with her staff.

  “Father! I thought you went with Aunt Cora to the café this morning?” I knew he should never be left alone; we all feared he would return to the forest.

  “I did. I just came back to get a cardigan. I was getting chilly sitting by the bay.”

  “We’re about to head out to the café now. Can we ride with you?”

  Lucian scrunched up his face a bit. I wonder how much he knew about my father and what Ian had told him.

  “Certainly. Hop in the car.” He scratched his head, confused, and then said, “Ah, there they are,” grabbing the keys from the table that he was just sitting at. I couldn’t wait to get a remedy from the land of the Elven. Seeing my father with this vacant stare and constant confusion was tearing me up inside.

  I hopped in the front seat of the car, Lucian in the back. His eyebrows came down, and he frowned as he buckled his seat belt. I don’t think he wanted my father to drive. I couldn’t say that I blamed him; all the same, it was only a mile to town. We’d be fine. It’s not like Father was a drunkard.

  Father started the car, and I pulled the mirror down to make sure my ears were covered by the scarf. I remembered the first time my father had seen my ears after they’d been restored. He’d said, “What has happened to your ears?” with a puckered face, and I knew he wasn’t pleased. He had been the one that had them surgically cut to remove the pointy tips in the first place. After that, he never mentioned it again, almost like he never even noticed them.

  He drove slowly, which was a good thing. Everything was fine until we reached town and he nearly hit a cat on the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Pott’s house. I don’t think he even saw the poor thing, and it sped out of the way just in time.

  We crept along until we reached the café, where he just pulled up alongside another car that was parallel parked. He stopped the car, turned off the engine, and said, “I forgot how to parallel park. This should be fine.”

  Well, no, it wasn’t. Three cars were behind us, waiting to pass. “No worries, Mr. Seaforth. I’ve got my license—I’ll do it for you,” Lucian offered.

  My face must have looked like a beet, as it grew hot with embarrassment.

  “Thank you, Lucian,” I said. I hopped out of the car and ran to the driver’s side, opened the door, and grabbed my father’s arm.

  He got out of the car and handed the keys to Lucian, who was all ready to move the car.

  “Thank you, lad.” Father nodded his head, and we walked arm in arm inside the café.

  The outside tables were packed for lunchtime, and Father had to sit inside at a table that didn’t have a view of the water. Father frowned and sighed deeply as he sat down, glaring at the folks by the window. Hey, at least it was some sort of response to “reality” instead of the always present nothingness.

  “I’ll get you some coffee.” I walked up to the kitchen counter and poured him a cup of decaf. He disliked decaf, but surely he didn’t need the caffeine. Plus, he used so much sugar, it kept him awake well into the night. Yesterday he’d had so much coffee that he paced the front porch for a good half hour while Gran sat on the porch swing and coaxed him to drink chamomile tea with her.

  I knew my father couldn’t remain in this state forever, and I surely didn’t want him to. The sooner Izadora and I retrieved Aggie’s book of spells and opened the gates of the land of the Elven, the better.

  While I put four teaspoons of sugar and four squirts of creamer in his cup, Aunt Clover, who had been taking someone’s order at the table on the opposite side of the room from Father, noticed me. She did a double take. The first time she glanced at me she was smiling; the second time, her face had paled like a marshmallow.

  I smiled at her. I don’t know why I was having so much fun with this. I think it was because both aunts always acted like going into the forest was a terrible sin, and yet Aunt Clover had definitely spent some time in there.

  While I was bringing Father his coffee, Lucian walked in and settled himself at the table, taking his sweatshirt off and stretching out his legs.

  “Here you go, Father. I put lots of sugar in it so that it would taste better.” I set it before him, knowing that whatever I did to it would never be enough. He used to drink it black, but I knew he missed the food and drink from fairyland.

  “Thank you…um…” He looked up to my face, and his forehead crinkled. “Ivy.” He had forgotten my name.

  Sighing, I said, “Lucian, I’ll be back. I have to give something to my Aunt Cora.”

  “Okay, no problem. Can I get some coffee?”

  “Oh sure, just walk up and get it from the counter.” I spun around and headed for the kitchen. Maybe he wanted me to get it for him, but I just couldn’t wait to give Aunt Cora the red-knotted love rope.

  What people would do to get a rope such as this! To enhance their lives for the best, to bring forth their true soul mate. Wow. In fact, now I just couldn’t wait to give it to her. What had taken me so long?

  I found Aunt Cora in the kitchen, dumping a bag of flour into a super-sized bowl, preparing the batter for fried fish. Angelica, the girl who washed dishes, had headphones in.

  “Aunt Cora!” I said as soon as I saw her.

  “Oh, Ivy! How are you this afternoon?” She wore a white button blouse with a short blue, swirly knit fashion skirt, and a tan-colored apron.

  She stared at my purple head scarf, blinked a few times, and then looked me in the eyes.

  “I’m good. I have been holding onto something—I sort of waited to give it to you, to let things settle down a bit. But here it is,” I said proudly, holding out the short, red-knotted love rope.

  “Oh my, what is it?” She walked across the room, washed her hands twice, and grabbed some paper towels; while wiping her hands, she looked at what I held.

  “It’s a love knot.” I smiled.

  “Oh,” she said. “I see.” She came closer and looked at the rope in my hand.

  It was not the reaction I had been hoping for. At all.

  “Years ago, I used to make and sell potions on the side—love potions, money potions, happy-go-lucky potions, whatever-strikes-your-fancy potions. You name it, I made it. But no more. I found that it’s best to leave things up to fate. Thank you anyway, I truly appreciate the thought, but no thanks.” She took the rope from my hand and examined it for a moment, stepped on the garbage pail latch at the bottom with her foot, and tossed it in.

  I swallowed, trying not to let her see my disappointment.

  “Who gave you that?” she asked as she continued on to the sink to wash her hands again.

  “Aggie. Izadora’s mother.”

  “I definitely don’t want it then.” She turned to look at me. “Let me tell you something about magic, Ivy. I used to know all about magic. I could cast a spell with the best of them, and I had to BE one of the best. But I wouldn’t dally with it now, or ever again. I’m done with magic, and I recommend that you be done with it, too.”

  That she used to practice magic was news to me.

  She continued. “I know you like to hang out with Izadora, and I know she’s teaching you things, but you would do best to steer clear of magic.”

  Sulking, I said, “Sure.” The fact was, Izadora was trying to teach
me magic, but I hadn’t been the best pupil. I could never get it right.

  “Now you cheer up—I’ve got some chocolate pecan pie. Would you like a piece?”

  She couldn’t have picked anything with more calories, and she knew that I didn’t eat sweets that much anymore, but again, I said, “Sure. Can you get one for Father and Lucian, too?”

  “Absolutely. Although your father won’t eat it. Who’s Lucian? That boy out there?”

  “Yup. Ian’s nephew.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised.

  When she turned her back to walk out to the dessert display case in the dining area, I did something that I may regret later, but it pulled me in and I couldn’t resist. I stepped on the bottom pedal of the trash can, and when the top popped open, I reached in and grabbed the rope that sat upon broken eggshells, stuffing it back into my pocket.

  This red-knotted love rope wasn’t going to waste. It came from Aggie—how could the spell go wrong?

  And as I sat down to eat my small sliver of chocolate pecan pie with Lucian, I knew exactly where this rope was going. Right inside Aunt Cora’s pillowcase.

  ***

  Lucian had his pie gone before you could blink an eye, or so it seemed. My father just stared at his like it was filled with worms.

  Lucian leaned in. “Would you like to go running with me tonight? Ian says you’re a runner. I know you’re fast, but I’m, well…fast, too.” His brown eyes crinkled on the sides as he smiled.

  “Is that so?” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I knew I could smoke him. All the same, I said, “I have a better idea. I usually ride my horse, Solstice, in the evenings. You can come along if you want.” I had a feeling Drumm would be busy anyway, and Ian probably expected me to babysit Lucian some more.

  His attractive brown eyes were full of doubt, perhaps he was scared of horses, but he said, “Sounds good to me.”

  More small talk while Father ignored us, and then Aunt Clover stepped over to the table. She had the type of hair most women would love to have. It was short but thick and wavy. I’d seen her get ready in the morning, and all she did was wash her hair, put in some lotion, and go. Five minutes was all it ever took her to get ready. And her hair would dry and look perfect all day. She wore minimal makeup, and that’s all it took to get her looking like a movie star. “Ivy, come to the kitchen. We need to talk for a moment.” She smiled politely at Lucian.

  The couple that sat at the window table prepared to leave. My father stood and strode to the table and sat just as soon as the man’s butt had left the chair. The guy had still been wiping his face, and he threw the napkin back on the table.

  “Idiot,” the man said as he and his wife left.

  Everyone in town that saw my father perceived him as the town dunce. It chapped me to see them look at him that way.

  I ground my teeth together to keep from saying something to the horrible man. I forced a smile. “Fine,” I said to Aunt Clover. I didn’t care about the scarf anymore.

  Lucian politely got up and went to sit with my father, as everyone else continued to furtively glance in his direction. I wanted to yell, “You all go to fairyland and see how you act when you return!” But I held my tongue, of course.

  Aunt Cora had stepped out to the bathroom, and I stood in the kitchen with Aunt Clover. Both hands were on her hips, and she leaned toward me as she spoke. “Where did you get that scarf?”

  “Izadora gave it to me. Why?”

  “Just curious. I like it—maybe I can borrow it sometime.” She stepped back and kept spinning her ring around her finger, sliding it up and then back in place. For some strange reason, this simple purple scarf made her uneasy. I had expected a different reaction. Maybe anger that Izadora had given it to me, maybe even surprise. Or maybe even dread that she’d have to explain her presence in the forest. But no, she was nervous.

  “Sure, you can borrow it. Not now, though—it’s covering my ears.”

  “Ha! Not now, of course. But, uh…maybe tomorrow?” Her big blue eyes sparkled as she forced a smile. “I’ll come around to pick it up.”

  “I suppose.”

  “See you then.”

  Aunt Cora returned, and Aunt Clover said, “Cora, it’s not busy now. I’m going to head over to Bangor and take a look at wedding invitations.”

  “You’re not getting married for another year! What’s the hurry?” Aunt Cora asked.

  “Just want to take a peek. Never hurts to be prepared.”

  “Yes, yes,” Aunt Cora scowled. “Get on with it then.” She waved her hand to dismiss the conversation.

  It was no secret that Aunt Cora was a tad jealous of Aunt Clover’s engagement, as she always poo-poo’d any mention of it. Even though her fiancé was working in Alaska at the moment, they spoke almost every day. And so it further amazed me that Aunt Cora didn’t accept the red-knotted love rope.

  “So, you’re okay with closing?”

  “Of course—anything for you, Clover,” she said a bit too sarcastically as she put away some dishes. She went to the counter and picked up the small recorder that she used to document any pains or weirdnesses. “Pain in the heart. Left arm tingly.” She frowned.

  Aunt Clover scurried off up the stairs to her apartment. I hadn’t even had the chance to ask her if she recognized the scarf, but I knew, without a doubt, she recognized it.

  Chapter Six

  Riding my horse, Solstice, had to be the highlight of each and every day. He was a beautiful, magnificent animal with a friendly disposition, who liked to poke his head at me in a playful manner. He loved carrots and apples, especially wild green apples from the forest.

  As I stood brushing his white and black mane, deep in Ian’s garden out by the third pond next to Silvie’s willow tree, Lucian arrived. He looked nicely dressed in his T-shirt and jeans; there was a suaveness to his appearance, and he had a great head of hair. He probably had a line of girls following him around, wherever he was from.

  I hadn’t seen Silvie, which didn’t bother me a bit. She could keep her “dead bird tricks” to herself. Solstice liked it best over here by the willow, and Sylvie tended to ride him in the midnight hours—the time Elven horses are most lively and liked to run wild.

  “Hey, he’s beautiful.” Lucian walked down a path full of azaleas and stepped forward to pat his nose.

  “And huge,” he added, patting Solstice’s white back. “I like the long hair hanging over his hooves—just like a Clydesdale.”

  “Are you ready? I’ll just put his bridle on.”

  “Bridle? Doesn’t he have a saddle too?” Lucian scuffed his foot nervously in the dirt.

  “No way. The Elven don’t use saddles much—to speak of, anyway. Maybe in a formal gathering, but in battle, and for regular riding, it’s bareback.” Then it occurred to me, something I should have asked to begin with. “You do know about the Elven and that I…uh—”

  “Are part Elven. Yeah, my uncle filled me in, so that you wouldn’t have to. He wasn’t gossiping or anything—”

  “Ian? Gossip? Never,” I joked. “Okay, I’ll hop on first, then we’ll go over to the fountain and you can stand there and get a leg over Solstice.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “To ride an Elven horse? Just try it and see.”

  I used the horse’s mane to jump up on his back. It was easy for me, as jumping high was an Elven trait, then I walked Solstice a ways down the flower-filled path to the fountain. When we arrived, guess who was sitting there? Silvie.

  Behind her, the sun was setting gorgeous dark orange and pink shades; the whole sky was lit up. The trees in the forefront were illuminated by golden light, and it felt like time had stopped. If I was a romantic, I would want Drumm here with me now, riding Solstice. But he was busy, and I wasn’t a romantic, such as my sister. It only led to trouble, if you asked me. However, I did find myself slightly pouting, and hauled my bottom lip back and bit it.

  Silvie waved at Lucian, jumped up, and gave him
a slight hug. I could see his whole body shiver at her touch, and I didn’t envy him in the least. Even though she appeared solid, I noticed one of her arms went through his, and I caught him rubbing that arm to warm it up.

  “Aunt Silvie. Nice to see you,” Lucian said.

  She nodded her head a couple times, turned, and walked by me, down the path toward the willow. Not stopping at the water’s edge, she kept going out across the pond and disappeared into thin air.

  I gulped.

  “She only knew me as a young toddler when she died. I don’t remember a thing about her before then—but after she died, when I came to visit my grandfather, she would sit in the garden with me for hours and make mud pies, and sometimes we’d have tea parties with the fairies. After a while, I took to liking matchbox cars instead of the girly stuff, and she’d play with those too. She might be dead, but she’d been a good aunt.” Lucian paused then said, “Playing hide-and-seek was no fun, though. She always cheated.”

  “Silvie is…interesting.” That’s all I could think of to say, and then I lowered my voice. “But she creeps me out sometimes.”

  “How so?” he said, as if he didn’t know. He stood on the rock wall of the fountain, and I pulled Solstice up next to him. He lifted a long, muscular leg over the horse and slid on, grabbing my waist. I jumped about four inches into the air.

  “Gah!” I yelped when he touched me, as I am extremely ticklish.

  “Sorry,” he said. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time I had asked him to ride the horse with me that he would be using my waist to hold on to.

  “Uh, your aunt creeps me out. This morning, she held a dead bird, maggots and all, in her hands—”