Yip crawls under one of the machines and slinks out of the building into an utterly black night.
The only lights in Haven come from the boats in the harbour and the thin trails of cars beetling through the dark, dark streets.
He has failed again. He can’t go back to the school. He has to find someplace safe before dawn.
~~~
When Yip arrives at Olivia’s house he sees the shattered glass on the concrete. His heart sinks in despair.
Not Olivia.
He can’t see in through the boarded up window but he is relieved to hear her quiet sobs coming from inside.
“Your father has taken Rum-Tum to the vet. They will do everything they can to save him,” Mum soothes.
Olivia sobs even harder.
At least she’s all right, Yip thinks. He traces strange shapes around the window frame of Olivia’s room laying a protection on it. He does the same for each window of the house and the front and back doors. Nothing with evil intent should be able to breach the ward, unless it is very powerful.
Yip wedges himself out of sight in the crook of the chimney on Olivia’s roof. He will guard the house until the dawn, at least.
There are thousands of rooftops in Haven. He just hopes the Trixie leader doesn’t find him unprotected in the daylight.
Chapter 30
A Teenage Trixie
Trixies cringe in the shadows as their leader stalks back and forth between them. She is losing control of her glamour, her face flickering between the pretty young girl façade and the red-eyed, hollow-cheeked and fanged creature hidden beneath. The young Trixies keep their eyes downcast.
The night hasn’t gone off perfectly but the trick at the hospital and the power station, though interrupted, did cause panic and mayhem in the city.
“It’s just one little girl,” she yells. She kicks a box sending it crashing into the opposite wall. “One broken little girl.”
The closest Trixie covers its head and whimpers.
“And she’s still alive!” the leader snarls, raising one wickedly long finger. “One of the Guardians—granted it’s the pathetic joke of a Guardian—is awake and sticking his ugly pug face into my business.” She raises a second finger to emphasise the point. “Two of you have been sent back to the shadows and another one has vanished.” Two more fingers flash up. “Do I have to do everything myself?”
None of the Trixies answer. Trixies aren’t famous for their self-preservation tendencies but none of them is stupid enough to call attention to themselves when the leader is in such a rage.
Regardless, the leader snaps her blistering gaze on each Trixie in turn. “No one fails me tonight.”
The scariest thing about those final words is that they are said with quiet, calculated calm.
The leader turns and walks into the light.
~~~
Olivia?
Yip sits frozen in the crook of the chimney on top of Olivia’s house. He waits for a reply.
Olivia?He tries again, reaching his mind out to the young girl sitting in the room below. He can feel the roiling emotions coming from the room. I’m sorry.
Yip can taste fear, worry and an overwhelming burn of anger rippling out from her. He understands what happened while he was away. Poor Olivia! She has a right to be angry. She has been caught up in events no human should have to confront, let alone a twelve-year-old girl. She’s injured, scared and heartsick with worry for the cat that had saved her life.
He should have expected they’d be watching the storeroom, that they’d discover who helped him. He should have realised Olivia would be in danger. Again, he’d been more worried about making amends and proving himself to think about anyone else.
It’s not your fault. Olivia projects her thoughts to Yip.
It kind of is, but thank you, he replies.
Where are you? she asks.
You were right about the school. It’s not safe for me there during the day. I’m hiding on your roof.
What if they come back?
Don’t worry, only the older Trixie can stand the sunlight. And I’ve put wards on your house. You’ll be safe tonight. Only something really powerful could breach these wards.
Like the something powerful enough to breach the wards around the school? she asks blandly.
Well, there is that, Yip admits.
What’s this about an older Trixie? Olivia asks.
Yip brightens slightly. I know what has stirred the Trixies up.
Well?
It is the oldest Trixie ever known, he said. Usually they only make it to four or five years. A few live to reach seven or eight before they annoy something really nasty. This one is a teenager.
What’s so special about that? Olivia asks.
Are you kidding? Yip scoffs. Have you ever spent time with a teenage girl? All those hormones raging around in a creature that gets off on making mischief. No wonder their pranks have turned deadly.
Mum’s always telling me she will never cope when I hit my teens, Olivia says. I think I’m beginning to understand her.
Olivia, I don’t know how to stop her, Yip says. And she has at least twenty Trixies to help her now.
There is a long, long silence.
If I could get through them to get at her and if I knew how to stop her…If I could stop her, I’m sure the others would scatter back to where they came from.
Then we stop her, Olivia states bluntly.
Brother Westerman might know, Yip says.
Brother Westerman? Olivia asks with a decided lack of enthusiasm. How could he possibly help?
He is the last Guardian of St. Giles, Yip says proudly. Prior Greyson was training him to be his successor until the trouble caused the rift between them.
What trouble?
Me, Yip admits sadly. You’ll have to ask him.
Chapter 31
Back to the Tower
Talking to Brother Westerman is the last thing on earth Olivia wants to do. But thinking about all the bad things that have been happening, all the death and destruction throughout the city, she steels herself to the task. If there is even the slightest chance to stop the Trixies she has to at least try. Olivia closes her eyes and can see the two creatures in her room, trying to kill her. She can see Rum-Tum lying broken and bloody on the concrete below her window.
She will do anything to payback the things that hurt her cat. If that means facing the old priest again, so be it.
Mum and Dad are going to let her stay home, after the shock of the intruder in her room last night. Olivia convinces them she’s missed enough schoolwork already while she was in hospital and should go. That should have been enough to rouse their suspicions but it doesn’t, and they even drop her at school early when she asks.
Part of Brother Westerman’s routine is a morning visit to the cemetery. Olivia thinks it’s more to harass students trying to take the shortcut through the hole in the fence there than any other reason.
She sees him pulling weeds from around a tall grey head-stone in the newer section of the graveyard. These headstones have been there less than fifty years. There are only three vacant plots left in the cemetery. Two are reserved for the old teacher-Brothers spending their last years in a nursing home, and one is for Brother Westerman.
Olivia reads the name on the headstone.
PRIOR BENFIELD GREYSON
1862 – 1865
SERVANT OF ST.GILES
It’s the old prior, Yip mentioned this morning.
Brother Westerman glances up and his face darkens. “What are you doing in here?” he demands. “This area is out of bounds.”
“I need to speak to you Brother Westerman,” Olivia says as politely as she can manage.
“Can’t a man tend graves without being bothered?” His voice lowers.
When she doesn’t scurry away like a frightened mouse, he levers himself up, his joints creaking loudly. He towers above her, dark and full of menace.
“We keep doing this,” Oli
via snaps up at him. “And it’s getting almost as old as you.”
“Horrid girl!”
“Look.” Olivia softens her tone a little. “I don’t have time for this. How do you stop a Trixie?”
Brother Westerman’s eyes widen in surprise. He glances around nervously and leans forward to look suspiciously into her eyes.
“Trixies have been causing all the trouble over the last few nights,” she says. As intense as his gaze is, she doesn’t flinch away. She has seen scarier things than him.
“Ridiculous,” he snaps. “Trixies are just pests. They’re not dangerous.”
“Yip says this one is a teenager and it’s gotten stronger and meaner. And it has over twenty younger Trixies working with it”
Brother Westerman grabs Olivia by the arm and drags her toward the main building. Despite her protests, he keeps pulling her forward muttering, “Ridiculous,” and “no, it can’t be,” as he strides on.
For an old man, he has a mightily strong grip and Olivia can’t pull her arm loose. Several boys stand and stare as they pass but no one get in the way.
Thanks for all your help, Olivia thinks as they gawp at her. There’s not one teacher about as they cross the grounds and enter the rear door of the school.
Brother Westerman bustles her into the West Tower stairwell and harries her up the spiralling steps. She limps along as fast as she can but he has to tug her along to keep up.
He is remarkably spry for a ninety-two-year-old. Olivia is puffing at the exertion of the climb but he isn’t even breathing hard.
They are heading back to Brother Westerman’s lair.
Chapter 32
Trixies are Not Dangerous
Brother Westerman slams the heavy leather bound book onto the table in front of Olivia. An explosion of dust tickles Olivia’s nose and makes her sneeze. He stabs a bony finger onto a passage below a drawing of a fanged creature with spindly arms and legs that are slightly too long for its body.
Trickster Imps, or Trixies as they are colloquially known, are the nocturnal pranksters of the imp family. They are mostly solitary in nature because of their fearless compulsion to play mischievous and sometimes nasty tricks on their fellows. Trickster Imps grow to the size of a small child and thrive on playing practical jokes on each other and any entity they cross paths with. Often their choice of victim leads to their untimely demise. Trickster Imps have the ability to cast a glamour to disguise their unworldly appearance into that of a female human child. Trickster Imps in the human world have a violent aversion to cats because it is believed that felines can see through their glamour.
It was once thought Trickster Imps were short lived creatures but it is now believed that they may in fact be minor immortals. If they receive sufficiently severe injuries, the Trickster Imp dissolves into the shadows they are created from. It is believed that eventually, the shadows reform into a new Trickster Imp. Most Trickster Imps perish before they reach the age of five but some have been known to reach the age of seven, which is considered elderly for one of their species.
Although Trickster Imps are considered to be a nuisance and a pest, and although some of their tricks have been known to result in the unexpected injury or even death of their victim, they are not considered to be overly dangerous.
“See, you know nothing, girl.” The look of triumph is etched on his face. He taps the book again. “Trickster Imps are solitary.” He uses their proper name to emphasise his knowledge and her ignorance.
Olivia opens her mouth to reply but he stabs his finger down again.
“Trickster Imps are pests, they are an annoyance, but they certainly are not dangerous.” He pauses for a moment then adds. “And another thing, Trickster Imps don’t live to be teenagers.”
He straightens to his full height and glares down his beak-like nose at her.
“Your book is wrong.”
Brother Westerman sputters in disbelief.
“They do work together because two of them broke into my room last night and tried to smother me,” Olivia says matter-of-factly.
“Nonsense,” he waves away her argument with one thin, spotted hand.
“If it wasn’t for my cat, I wouldn’t be here now. He saved my life last night when the Trixies attacked.”
“Trickster Imps play tricks, they don’t attack,” he fires at her.
“Yip killed one of them last night when they were sabotaging the hospital generators but there were too many of them at the power station and he nearly didn’t get away.” Olivia stands as tall as she can while saying this and plants her fists defiantly on the table.
“Ha!” he jeers. “Now I know you are lying. Yip is locked in the basement storeroom with the other Grotesques.” He pats the pocket of his coat and his eyes narrow suspiciously.
Olivia holds up the storeroom key. “I snuck in here yesterday and borrowed this from the pocket of your coat,” Olivia gloats, just a little. She is not proud of it but the look on his face is worth the guilt. “Yip is hiding on the roof of my terrace house.”
Brother Westerman thrusts his hand into the offending pocket. His face flushes with anger. “You had no business interfering with my Grotesques.”
“Tell that to Yip,” she says. “He nearly drove me mad yesterday with his whining. He told me he was going to annoy me until I let him out.”
Brother Westerman freezes. “What do you mean, He told you?”
“He yabbered away in my head until I gave in.”
The old priest steps around the table and sweeps the long fall of hair away from the left side of Olivia’s face. He reaches out and tentatively touches the hard greyish skin around her temple and ear.
Olivia pulls her head away and sweeps her hair back into place to hide her scars.
Brother Westerman crouches down and takes hold of Olivia’s left arm.
Olivia wants to pull away, but the bewildered look on his face stops her.
He runs his fingers along the hard skin of her forearm and traces them around her palm and her own stiff fingers. He slumps into the seat next to her.
“I am so sorry,” he says.
Tears brim in her eyes. Obviously he know how serious her condition is, even if the doctors weren’t letting on.
Olivia reaches into her pocked and set the crumpled news clipping the old-fashioned nurse gave her at the hospital on the table for him to read.
He finishes reading and looks at Olivia. “Piffle,” he says.
“What?”
“Your injuries have nothing to do with that.” He crumples the paper and tosses it to the floor. “You were injured by pieces of living stone. The Grotesques were created to survive against some of the most deadly creatures in existence. When Cygnet shattered on the concrete path, some of his…” Brother Westerman waves his hand airily like he is trying to pluck the right word from air, “…magic, for lack of a better word, passed on to you.”
Olivia doesn’t look convinced.
“That’s why you can hear Yip’s thoughts.”
“So, I’m not going to turn to stone and die?” Olivia asks.
“I don’t know…you might,” he adds thoughtfully.
“Thanks for the reassurance.” She shakes her head in disgust.
Brother Westerman starts muttering quietly to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger.
“Ah…hem…” Olivia clears her throat to regain his attention. “Now, back to my original question. How do we stop a Trixie?”
He is about to tap the passage in the book again.
Olivia holds up her hand. “Theoretically, if there was a nearly teenage Trixie getting about causing trouble, how would you go about getting rid of it?”
The old priest thinks about the question. “Theoretically, the same way as you stop any other Trickster Imp, I guess,” he says. “Cause it enough damage to kill it or by tricking it first,”
Olivia gives him a puzzled look.
“If a Trixie gets tricked, they dissolve away
into shadows. That’s why they are solitary creatures.” His tone of voice is exactly the same as Yip’s when he thinks she is being an idiot. “If being tricked was your weakness, would you hang around with a compulsive trickster?”
“I guess not,” Olivia agrees. “But how do you trick a Trixie?”
“That,” Brother Westerman taps the side of his nose, “is much harder than it sounds. They know every trick in the book and then some.”
“Do you have any useful advice for me at all?” she asks.
Brother Westerman ponders the question for some time. Then his eyes widened with an expression Olivia can’t read. “Try watching the moonrise from a rooftop.”
What kind of stupid suggestion is that? Olivia thinks.
Brother Westerman suddenly turns all gruff again. “Now give me my key back and get out of my tower.”
Olivia places the key onto the table and limps past him to the stairs.
Chapter 33
Sleight-of-Hand
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Tannith says. She is standing with Kellyanne and Lollie.
Olivia looks up from her chair in the library, surprised to see the three girls standing right next to her. She had been deep in thought, trying to discover a way to out-trick a Trixie. She had run through every April Fools prank and practical joke she had ever heard about but none has even the slightest chance of fooling probably the cleverest compulsive trickster the world had ever known. She had found a book about the Norse gods to get inspiration from the trickster god Loki. Nothing had seemed practical, or even physically possible.
Olivia self-consciously tilts her head forward to let her hair fall across her face.
“It’s alright.” Olivia’s voice is small, little more than a whisper.
“No it’s not,” Tannith continues. “We should have played a game we could all play.”
“Yeah, we’re sorry too,” Kellyanne says.
Olivia Stone and the Trouble with Trixies Page 10
