by B. J. Smash
“Zinnia,” she said. If I was weak, I might have let my eyes tear up, but I held them in.
At that moment, I felt like the prodigal son from the Bible. You know, the parable where the father gives his inheritance to his youngest son. The son takes off and spends it, wasting it away on extravagant things, and then returns home. His father greets him with open arms, welcoming him back.
Focusing my thoughts, I took a good look at them and saw how nice they looked. Father looked distinguished in his black wool coat. Ivy wore a nice looking wool cape, the color of the forest. Her long golden hair fell about her shoulders, and her face glowed with health.
Father stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. His embrace was warm, like a snuggly blanket by the fire, and I felt most of my worries melt away. “My Zinnia! I can’t believe you are finally to come home with us!” He smelled of Old Spice aftershave lotion.
He hauled me back to look at me, and I couldn’t help but notice that he looked younger and healthier than I’d ever seen him look. I’d heard tell of his drinking a vial of liquid from the fountain of youth. Apparently it did work.
“Come now, let’s get into the car!” The excitement was evident in his voice.
He put his arm through mine, and Ivy stepped to the other side of me, linking her arm through my free arm. We walked to the black Cadillac that belonged to my grandfather. Ivy started to open the door to the front seat, and I felt like a child.
I wasn’t used to feeling like a child, and so I said with a bit of edge, “I can do it.” Then I softened. “But thanks anyway.”
Once inside the car, I noticed a few people standing on the sidewalks observing us. Nosy. I’m sure they loved watching the prodigal daughter return to Merribay. I set those thoughts aside. I didn’t care at the moment. I was just so dang glad to be off that boat! Let them stare.
And stare they did. As my father backed the car up, I watched them watch me. How much did they know? Mr. Adams stood on the sidewalk talking to Mrs. Potts. Her finger had been pointing at me, but when she saw me noticing, she tucked her hand in her jacket. Mr. Adams had been walking his little Yorkie dog in town like he always did. The Yorkie dog had a little blue sweater on, and he looked downright adorable. I almost smiled. When the dog saw me, though, he began to bark up a storm. Even the dog didn’t like me, which brought back vivid memories of my sister’s friend Lucian, the shape-shifting hellhound.
Not too long ago, Rodinand had forced me to imprison my sister and Lucian inside a small cavern. My whole plan had been to rescue them myself, but Rodinand never left me on my own, and there was no fighting or talking back to Rodinand. I swear I had been planning to help them escape. When Rodinand had brought up dogfighting, my stomach had turned to goo and I had almost vomited. But you see, you can’t let someone that outranks you see that you have a weakness. If I had, I might have ended up in the cavern right along with Ivy and Lucian. I had to be strong. I had to go along with his plans.
Luckily, Lucian was as strong and fierce as a pack of wolves. He had defended himself well against the one demon dog that he had fought. And demon dogs were straight from Hades itself. They had no mercy and no good inside them. They were demons.
It had been a saving grace when Izaill had shown up. He was madder than ten wet hens in a swimming pool. Of course I ran. Who wouldn’t? I was certainly not on his good list, and I didn’t want to try his temper.
It had all worked out, I think. Lucian had gotten an injury, a gash, but I think they will be able to fix it. On the boat ride back, he had seemed confident that his friend Maximus would be able to help him, whoever that was. I had heard he was some great wizard who lived on Hy Brasil, some sort of fantasy island. But I hadn’t been allowed onto the secretive island to meet him. Magella said my heart was as dark as coal, and Maximus would not tolerate my kind in his home.
My face fell as I remembered that moment. Ivy noticed right away.
“We have your favorite dessert at home. Lemon bars. Aunt Clover made them just this morning.”
I refused to let my father and Ivy know that I was feeling sorry for myself, and I lifted my head and forced a smile. “That sounds delicious.”
I hadn’t had anything sweet in months. I had stopped craving such things long ago, when I had joined the Fae. They didn’t eat much food, but they pretended to.
“Your grandmother is making chicken soup tonight. You always did like chicken soup,” Father said.
At the mention of chicken soup, Ivy groaned. I looked over my shoulder to the back seat to find her frowning.
“I thought you liked chicken soup,” I said.
“Not so much anymore,” she said. I thought she was going to leave it at that, but then she offered an explanation. “Izadora likes chicken soup, too. And I’m the one who has to, um, get the chickens for her.”
I almost said, “So what?” But then it occurred to me that she didn’t just have to get the chicken, but she probably had to cut the head off and de-feather it, too. Poor Ivy. At least she didn’t have to fish all the time and clean out the guts. I’d rather deal with chickens any day.
Father’s eyes were on me and not the road. “We can play a board game later. You always liked board games.”
“Sure.” I smiled at him, and then he turned his eyes back to the road.
I hadn’t played a board game since I was sixteen, well over two years ago. But if it made him happy, I’d be glad to. All I cared about these days was that my father would be happy.
We rounded the bend, passing a long line of trees on either side of the road. The fall leaves were at peak color. Red and orange leaves, some yellow, but all bright and beautiful. A few moments later we were at Gran’s big yellow Victorian house, set in front of more autumn-colored trees. The perfect New England setting. It looked like a calendar photo.
Both grandparents were sitting on the porch swing. Granddad had his pipe, and Gran had her knitting. She had always been big on her knitting. Hats, mittens, gloves, scarves. Always preparing for the long winter that was sure to come.
They began making their way to the stairs, to greet me. I slowly got out of the car, yet still made it to the steps before they reached them. Granddad was moving slower than I remembered, and they both looked much older, too. This saddened me.
Granddad stood back and held his arms out. “Welcome home, Zinnia!” he said in a cheerful manner, like he was a greeter at a circus.
“We are so glad to have you home!” Gran held out her arms, and I walked up the stairs and right into both sets of arms. They hugged me close, and Gran kissed my cheek.
For a moment I felt like a little girl again, and yet I would never be an innocent little girl ever, ever again.
“I’ve missed you both,” I said. It was the truth. I had a soft spot for my grandparents. They had never treated me differently. Even when I had been a horrible brat, as I oftentimes had been, they still loved me. One time, about ten years ago when I had been visiting on winter break, I had thrown a terrible tantrum because I had not gotten my way about something. Gran had sent me to bed without any supper. Granddad appeared at the door three hours later with a lemon bar. To this day, I think that is why I like lemon bars so much.
When they let go, they stood back to observe me. “You are looking sort of skinny. You come in now, and have a bite to eat,” Granddad said.
I had forgotten to eat this morning. I guess you could say I was sick of fish, and that’s all that was available on Magella’s boat this morning. That and radishes. She had a thing for radishes. Unfortunately, she didn’t care about what I wanted to eat. I was being punished, and trust me, Magella was the ultimate punisher.
Gran scrunched her face while looking at me, concerned. “I’ll fix you some blueberry pancakes to go along with those lemon bars.”
“Thank you, Gran,” I said as I followed Granddad inside. His gray hair had thinned, and a bald spot had begun to form on the back of his head.
The house smelled fresh and clean, like lem
ons, and the dark hardwood floor in the foyer had been recently polished. When we arrived in the kitchen, “the heart of the home,” as Gran always called it, Granddad unbuttoned a few of the top buttons on his blue cardigan and sat down in a wooden chair by the big bay window.
I walked straight to the kitchen island and took a lemon bar. My mouth watered right before the first bite, and I could almost taste it. I bit into the bar and a sharp tartness, along with a sweet, gooey texture, melted in my mouth. “Mmm,” I said. “These are most excellent.”
“Clover made them for you. She’ll be up later on—she had to work this morning,” Gran said. She smiled as she busied herself, getting eggs from the fridge and then a mixing bowl and flour. “She’s excited to see you. And I hear that Cora should be back soon. Maybe not until your next visit, but soon.”
My next visit. I didn’t want to think about going back to that boat ever again, but in the end, I knew it would be inevitable. Magella had tied a small black piece of rope to my wrist. It would be my destruction if I didn’t get on that boat again. She had told me, “First your limbs will start to go numb and fall asleep. It will become so painful that you will be begging me to return to the boat.”
It must have disturbed Gran to think about my returning to Magella’s too, because she immediately changed the subject.
“Would you like pecans in the batter, along with the blueberries?” she asked me.
“No thanks, Gran. No pecans.” I had no idea how I was going to eat lemon bars and pancakes; I just wasn’t used to eating that much food.
My father and Ivy came in and seated themselves at the table. I sat between them. “Your great-grandfather Edmond will be home soon, too. He’s been abroad, in Scotland, for quite some time now. Visiting old relatives and a few old friends,” my father said.
“Relatives?” I asked. “Does he have cousins over there or something?”
“No.” Granddad laughed. “No, but he has his mother, who is my grandmother, and he is also visiting with my great-aunt.”
I had heard of Augusta Seaforth, whom everyone called Aggie. In fact, it was her very book of spells that I had stolen from Magella. I cringed at the thought of ever meeting up with her. She’d probably kill me. “Oh. How is she doing?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Oh fine, fine. She’s a live wire, my grandmother is. A live wire,” Granddad said. He noticed my discomfort on the subject. I had sunk lower in my chair, and my head hung low. “Oh, don’t you worry about anything. Everyone has tried to steal her book. That you succeeded was amazing. Besides, my Aunt Magella stole it from her. So, you see, it’s not that big of a deal.” But it was a big deal. It had to be.
I had never really thought of Magella as my grandfather’s aunt, but she was. What was most hilarious, in a strange sort of way, was that Magella was my great-aunt. Now that was funny. I would never, not in a million years, consider that old sea witch to be my great-aunt.
But the family tree went something like this: Augusta—aka Aggie Seaforth—had married a Fae being called Harikin. He was Unseelie, from what I was told, but then I heard elsewhere that he had become Seelie. Hard telling. The Fae can be finicky at times. I do know that once you’re Seelie, you don’t change. But you can go from being Unseelie to Seelie. Just remember, the Seelie equals GOOD. The Unseelie equals BAD. The Seelie like humans, for the most part. The Unseelie do not like humans.
Anyway, Aggie and Harikin went on to have Izadora, Izaill, Magella, and Montague. Montague is my great-grandfather Edmond. His full name is Montague Edmund Seaforth. He prefers to use his middle name, Edmund. Ivy and I call him “GG Edmund,” for short.
GG Edmund married my great-grandmother, who died. But they had two sons: my grandfather and his brother Royal. Royal moved far away from here, and who knows where he is. But my granddad, John Basil Senior, married my Gran, whose name is Eilish, and they had my father, who is called John Basil Junior, and Cora and Clover.
Then Ivy and I were born to my father. That’s about the gist of it all.
So, Ivy and I were indeed the nieces to some crazy people or, as I prefer to think of them, beings, and I have never met Aggie before, and intended not to. From what the Unseelie told me, she has more power than a dozen of them combined, and they hold a lot of power.
This family had a lot of it. Power. Not everyone though. My granddad didn’t seem to have any special powers that I knew of. Either that, or he hid it well. He never seemed like the flaunty type. All of his other relatives, though, had some uncanny powers, and a twisted sense of humor. I had heard it being referred to as the “Seaforth madness.”
And some people wonder why I am a little loopy, why I like power, and why I wanted more. It’s in my blood.
Power. It’s such a funny word if you say it out loud too many times.
But I digress. I didn’t ever want to meet Aggie, and I would never think of her as my great-great-grandmother, or of Izaill, Izadora, and Magella as my great-uncle and great-aunts. I would, however, always love GG Edmund, and would be glad to see him again.
“Zinnia?” Ivy said.
“Hmm?” I lifted my head to look her in the eyes. She had been asking me something.
“I said, would you like to go to the forest with me later? We can go for a run or take a walk, if you don’t feel like running.”
She probably expected me to decline. Normally, I would decline. Normally, I would have better things to do. She could run so much faster than me that it was hilarious. I think I shocked her when I said, “Sure. I’ll go.”
She smiled then. What a pretty face my sister had. And her legs were long and well-toned. I had always been jealous of Ivy. Yes, her hair was wild and her eyes a bit too big, but she was beautiful. Her unruly hair had grown on me, and the pointy little ears were, I had to admit, pretty nifty. They just barely peeked out through her thick hair now. If she combed it, they’d protrude more. She reminded me somewhat of an angel. Although, I knew she had a touch of the “Seaforth madness” when she tackled me on the island of the land of the elven and had broken my rib. Yes, even Ivy had some madness.
We sat and talked about the weather and drank tea. I managed to eat one and a half pancakes. They were delicious, with big, fat blueberries. I used an imitation maple syrup. While everyone here loved pure Maine maple syrup, it was just a bit too potent for me.
The subject of Ian’s garden came up. My sister’s boss. He fascinated me, and yet, I don’t think he liked me very much. I couldn’t blame him. I had caused much trouble for them on the boat.
I had never walked through the garden before. For me to get into the forest and over to the white bridge that led to the Fae, I had to walk a good ten miles through Hunter’s Hollow. I was told that Izadora had been the one to cast a spell over the woods to make the route a lot longer and a whole lot harder to find your way. I had fared well, though, and each time, I had found my way in just fine.
“We will walk through the garden today,” Ivy said. “But just remember…the weather in there is different. It’ll be warm still, and the flowers will bloom like nobody’s business.”
An enchanted garden, I thought. This should be interesting.
Chapter Two
We had played a card game and talked of old times. I had changed into jeans and a sweater because I could tell by everyone’s expressions that they didn’t approve of my fishy-smelling clothes. Then Ivy brought me to Ian’s. What a place. I had been inside the foyer and the front part of the garden as a young child, but never really spent any time here.
When Mrs. Pumbleton, the gray-haired maid, answered the big, ornate door, she grimaced, but her manners surfaced and she put on a fake happy grin, and invited us inside. It was me she didn’t want to see. She had a pleasant face with thin lips, but when she wasn’t smiling, her thin lips caused her to look stern, like a headmistress. “Ian will be in the sunroom. The others have gone hunting.”
Ian sat in his wheelchair at a beautifully handcrafted white wooden table
that could easily seat fourteen people. The large sunroom was spacious and full of light that beamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. There were so many plants hanging around and sitting in front of the windows that I couldn’t see how Mrs. Pumbleton attended to them all. What walls there were, were white panels with gold edging. Even the floors were white. Marble of the finest quality with a rock-filled koi pond in the back of the room. There was a flowing waterfall cascading over rocks and greenery into the pond. Gorgeous pink lily pads floated on its surface. All the accents in the room were gold, including the sconces and the silverware (I’m not sure what you’d call that—the golden-ware?). The glasses had rims edged in gold, and even the chairs were lined with plush gold cushions.
He looked up from the paper he had been reading. He had a zillion dollars, but he still chose to read an old fashioned paper? I had to wonder if he had a Kindle or if he just preferred the paper.
“Well hello, Miss Seaforth, and, ah…” Ian paused. He looked at me like I had the plague. “She’s still powerless, correct?”
“Ian!” Ivy said. Then she whispered below her breath, “Don’t be rude.”
I had to smile. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I wanted to jump at him and yell, “BOO!” just to see his reaction. I was so tempted.
Then I frowned. He had every right to not want me in his home. I had caused a lot of trouble on the boat ride on the way back from the land of the elven. I had almost careened the boat over and into the sea, trying to escape. I had called up a giant wave to do my bidding; it failed. But they needn’t to have worried. After that attempt, Magella stripped me of most of my powers and bound me up so that I could barely move. She had told me in a hushed whisper, “I will whip you into shape. You just wait and see.” And she had mentally whipped me into shape, and it hadn’t taken her long to do it. And then came the forgetting tea.
“Oh yes. Of course. Where have my manners taken off to?” He folded up his paper and said, “Come on in, Number Two.”
