by A W Hartoin
“I did it,” I said to myself and flew out the door.
CHAPTER 19
I flew down the stairs toward the man with the tattoos. He clomped past the stairs carrying a dirty rack of glasses that dripped a sweet smelling sludge across the floor. I flew past him into the kitchen. A snack would go well with my good news. The young woman was still there, looking crabbier than ever. She muttered to herself as she stacked bowls in a bin. Every bowl she picked up scattered more crumbs across the granite table. I landed and sniffed a pale brown chunk. I didn’t know what it was, but it smelled sweet and delicious. I tucked the chunk under my arm and walked among the crumbs, picking up the ones that would fit in my pockets. I popped a couple of the smaller crumbs in my mouth. One was an odd salty bread and the other a spongy sweet cake.
The woman swept her hand across the surface of the table. The crumbs disappeared under her lemon-scented hand. I watched the woman dump all that food into the bowl I’d almost drowned in before. All that food. It was such a waste, but I didn’t have a way to carry it anyway. I left the kitchen and went into the red room where several adult humans remained, talking in low tones and sipping red liquid out of goblets. I flitted over the back of the sofa between two men. One had a stick clamped in his teeth, except his stick had a little bowl attached at the end. I sniffed and discovered that his stick wasn’t lit. I wondered if he was waiting for a way to light it the way the commander always seemed to be.
“Jarvis, either light that thing or put it away,” said the other man with a frown.
“I don’t need to light it to enjoy the feeling it evokes in me,” said Jarvis.
“This is why Lynn won’t go out with you.”
“Why?” Jarvis clamped his teeth hard on the stick.
“You’re a pretentious jackass. That’s why. Ditch the pipe.”
“Evan, you never did have a sense of style.”
“And yet I’m married,” said Evan, brushing a wave of light brown hair out of his smiling eyes. Jarvis noticed and scowled. He rubbed his bald head and pulled at the wispy beard perched at the tip of his chin.
“Then again,” said Evan. “Maybe that’s not it. But seriously, ditch the pipe. It’s just embarrassing.”
“Forget it. The pipe is cool.”
I hovered nearer to Jarvis. He was kind of pretentious. He reminded me of Gerald actually. I decided, like Gerald, he could use a little excitement to knock him out of his funk, so I formed a large orange flame on my palm. I zipped over and dropped it in Jarvis’s pipe. A flash of movement caught my eye as I darted away. Tess peeked at me from the staircase with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes crinkled in laughter and her body quaked.
The smell of burning leaves reached my nose and I spun around. A thin line of smoke rose from Jarvis’s pipe. Neither man noticed. They continued to argue about pipes and pretentiousness. I looked back at Tess who nodded. I grinned at her and dashed over to the pipe. I blew in it and flew backwards just as a flame leapt over the lip.
Jarvis made a screechy noise and tossed the pipe away. It clattered across the wood floor, spewing flames and ashes.
“Jarvis, you idiot!” Evan scooped up the pipe, tossed it on a dirty plate, and stomped on the ashes.
“It was on fire.”
“It’s supposed to be on fire. It’s a pipe.”
“Well, I didn’t light it.”
“Then how was it on fire?”
“How should I know?”
“It was in your mouth,” said Evan, blowing on his hands.
I giggled and looked for my ally. Tess had both hands over her mouth and was bright pink. Just then Rebecca came out of the kitchen and glared at Tess. Tess winked at me and vanished up the stairs. Evan and Jarvis sat on the sofa and examined the pipe, arguing over whether Jarvis had lit it or not. I fought off the urge to light the pipe again, just to really freak them out.
Evan and Jarvis hadn’t seen me, but Tess had and more than once. That cinched it. I flew to the mantel with visions of triumph in my head. I imagined Iris’s joyful clapping and Gerald’s wary smile. No other living Whipplethorn fairy had ever made contact with a human, but I, Matilda Whipplethorn, had done it. Before my feet touched the doorsill, I did some spins and twists.
I reached for the door pull, but the door swung open before I touched it. Iris and Gerald stood crowded together in the doorway. Both their faces puckered into frowns. They must’ve been worried about me. I opened my mouth to say I’d done the undoable, but before I could get the words out, Gerald and Iris spoke simultaneously in quick staccato sentences.
“Slow down,” I said. “I can’t understand you.”
Iris blew a deep breath out from between her pursed pink lips. “They’re awake.”
“We didn’t know what to do,” said Gerald.
“Should we leave or not?” asked Iris.
I held up my hands. “What are you talking about? Who’s awake?”
“The trow,” said Gerald and Iris together.
“How can you tell?”
“I hear them,” said Iris.
“Me, too,” said Gerald.
“Well, what are they doing?” I asked.
The two of them looked around confused.
“They’re awake,” said Iris.
“We’ve established that.” Gerald gave Iris a fierce look and turned to walk down the hall.
We followed him into the kitchen, where Horc chewed on a wooden spoon and Easy banged two pots together. Gerald stopped on the far side of the room with his arms crossed. Iris sat down at the table.
“Don’t you want to hear what happened upstairs?” I asked.
“Upstairs?” Iris asked.
“Yes, upstairs,” I said, raising my hands in exasperation. “Don’t tell me you forgot about Sarah.”
“You did it,” said Gerald, without a trace of doubt.
“You did?” Iris clapped her hands. “You really did?”
“I did.” I smiled, enjoying the looks on their faces. “But it wasn’t Sarah who saw me.”
“Who was it?” asked Iris, picking up the plate and wiping it with a cloth.
“Tess.”
“Oh, no,” said Gerald.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “She’s a human.”
“She’s a kid.”
“You’re missing the point, genius.” I put my hands on my hips. “She saw me. We talked.”
“She won’t be able to do anything,” said Gerald.
“She can help us. I know she can,” said Iris.
Gerald shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. She could get the adults to help us. She is a girl.”
“What does being a girl have to do with it?” asked Iris.
“Everything,” he said. “Who do you think would be more persuasive, Tess or Judd?”
“Tess,” said Iris. “But not because she’s a girl. She’s just nicer.”
“You think that because she’s a girl.”
Iris scowled at him and I laughed. “I don’t care why she can help us, as long as she does.”
“What about the trow?” said Iris.
“Why are you so scared?” I asked. “Soren would’ve said if they were dangerous.”
“Easy’s worried,” said Iris.
Easy didn’t look worried to me unless he was worried about whether he could whack a pan hard enough to crack it.
“He seems fine to me,” I said.
“He’s not worried,” said Horc, still gumming the spoon. “Iris and Gerald are worried. Nonsense, really.”
“Why is it nonsense?” I asked.
“Because dangerous fairies don’t play music.”
“I don’t know if that’s true.”
“I do.” Horc bit the end of the spoon so hard it splintered. He chewed for a minute, then turned his head and spit out the fragments. “Name one species of fairy that makes music and is violent.”
I couldn’t, but only because I couldn’t think of any musical fairies. “So they’re doing what? S
inging?”
Gerald and Iris looked embarrassed. Horc rolled his eyes and bit the end of the spoon clean off.
“Don’t do that,” I said. “You’ll hurt your mouth.”
“I’m teething,” he said with another chomp. “And they’re not singing. They’re playing instruments.”
Easy chirped and kicked his legs. He held his arms out and I picked him up.
“He says he wants to go visit,” said Horc.
“Why?”
“He wants to play, too. It’s what mindbenders do.”
At the word mindbender, everyone gasped. Horc looked at us, blinking slowly and totally disinterested in our astonishment. Easy tucked his head against my shoulder. I tried to interest Easy in a nibble of cake, but he wouldn’t look up.
“Don’t say that, Horc,” said Iris.
“What?” He eyed the piece of cake in my hand until I tossed it to him.
“You know, don’t say the M word.”
“I certainly do not know.” Horc popped the cake in his mouth and looked for more.
“It’s not nice to say it,” I said.
“Why not? It’s just a type of wood fairy.”
“Nobody wants to be called that. It’s an insult.”
“Did Easy say he didn’t want to be a mindbender?”
Easy shook his head and I looked at Horc.
“He wants to be a mindbender, but he doesn’t like that you don’t like it,” said Horc.
I touched Easy’s chin. “We like you and if you like being called a mindbender, that’s what we’ll call you.”
“He still wants to go over there,” said Horc.
“I can’t take you until I know it’s safe.”
“He says music makes it better. He wants the music.”
“Makes what better?”
“It drowns out others’ thoughts. That’s why mindbenders play.”
“Oh,” said Iris. “That’s nice.”
“I wish music were playing right now,” said Gerald, looking disgruntled.
“I haven’t got anything to hide,” I said. “So I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do.” Gerald stomped across the room and left.
“Well?” I asked Easy.
Horc spit out more splinters. “He says mindbenders don’t tell and please go visit the trow.”
“Don’t tell what?” asked Iris.
“Mindbenders don’t tell what others are thinking,” said Horc. “It isn’t polite, but I don’t know what polite has to do with it.”
“You wouldn’t.” I ran my fingers across Easy’s brow. His large eyes watched me, their expression flickering between fear and hope. “Iris and I understand. We won’t ask what you don’t want to tell.”
Easy placed his hand on my cheek. The warmth of it imprinted on my skin and I realized I loved him. When I told the spriggans that he was our baby it became true. I wasn’t just the babysitter anymore. “I’ll go next door and see the trow.”
Easy chirped and held his arms out to Iris.
“I’d say be careful, but I’m not worried,” said Iris.
“Why not?”
“Easy wouldn’t ask to go if there were something to worry about.” Iris sat Easy on the floor next to Horc, who promptly whacked him on the head with the remains of his spoon.
“Horc!” Iris and I exclaimed.
“He says I still stink,” said Horc as Easy blew a raspberry at him.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Easy, that’s not nice to say.”
Easy looked up, his big eyes moist and mournful.
“Don’t give me those weepy eyes,” I said. “If Horc has to be nice to you, then you have to be nice to him.”
Easy snatched the spoon out of Horc’s hand swung it over his head like a mace and cracked Horc on the top of the head. Horc yelped and lunged for Easy. Iris whisked him away, trying to wrestle the spoon out of his hand.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“No,” said Iris, still struggling with a wiggly Easy. “I can handle it.”
“Good luck,” I said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Iris didn’t answer because Horc was stealing all of Easy’s pots and Easy wasn’t happy about it. She just nodded and looked pained. I left the kitchen and went room to room until I found Gerald sitting on a window sill, staring out into the human’s living room.
“What’s your problem?” I asked.
“I don’t have a problem,” Gerald answered, without looking at me.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“That’s not hard.”
I touched his arm. “Seriously. Why don’t you like Easy?”
“I like Easy. I don’t like him listening to my thoughts. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“It did at first, but really my thoughts aren’t that interesting,” I said.
“You’re not worried about people finding out you’re a kindler?”
“Easy wouldn’t tell. Besides, I couldn’t hide it now, even if I wanted to.”
“If anyone finds out about Easy being a mindbender, it will be bad.”
I hugged him and rested my cheek on his soft brown hair. “Soren and the commander were okay with it, maybe the rest of Whipplethorn will too. Come with me. I’m going next door.”
“I’ll stay here,” he said.
“Gerald, come on,” I said. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t hear so well.”
Gerald slid off the sill and eyed me, his eyes throwing a challenge. “Are you saying you need me?”
“Yes, Gerald. I need you.”
“Because I’m really really smart.”
“No, idiot, because you can hear. The smarts don’t hurt though,” I said.
“All right then.”
I rolled my eyes at him, went to the front door, and flew out without waiting. Gerald followed and landed on Easy’s front doorstep a second behind me. I knocked on the door and waited. Nothing happened, so I knocked again.
“What are they doing?” I asked Gerald.
“Nothing,” he said. “They stopped playing.”
“Are they coming to the door?”
“I don’t think so.”
I pushed on the door to see if it was latched and it creaked open, casting a rectangle of light into the hallway.
“Check it out,” said Gerald, gesturing behind us.
The dogs sat in front of the mantel, pointing their snouts at us. “I have to admit they’re kind of growing on me. They’re better than the cat anyway.”
“Iris said the cat was nice. She played with it.”
“It tried to eat her.”
“Oh,” said Gerald. “Should we go in?”
“Why not? What could happen?”
“Don’t say that,” said Gerald.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s us. Anything could happen and probably will.”
I grinned at him and lit my palm with a bright cheery blaze. “Come on, Gerald Whipplethorn. Let’s go check out ‘anything.’”
CHAPTER 20
“THEY’RE not here,” said Gerald, nervously sidling out of the parlor and bumping into me.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “They’re here. You just heard them. They must be hiding.”
“I say we let them hide. I mean, we’re kind of breaking and entering.”
“We are not. This isn’t their house.” I looked around the room, which had been organized and swept. “Do you smell something?”
“We’re not leaving, are we?” Gerald slumped and walked into the hall, dragging his feet.
“No,” I said. “We’ve only looked on the first floor so far. Do you smell glue?”
“Wood glue to be precise,” said Gerald.
“Right. Wood glue. What do you think they’re doing?” I went into the hall and grabbed Gerald’s hand. “Let’s go find out.”
Gerald protested, but I pulled him along behind me to the staircase. “It’s stronger here. They must be upstairs in Grandma Vi’s sitting
room.”
We climbed the stairs to the next floor landing. My flames cast flickering shadows on the walls and Gerald’s hand felt slippery in mine. He jerked out of my grasp, but I managed to snatch a hold of his sleeve before he ran back down the stairs.
“Do you hear anything?” I asked.
Gerald groaned and pointed to the closed door. “They’re in there.”
“What are they doing?”
“Breathing.”
I opened the door and the smell of fresh wood glue socked me in the face like a stinky wet fog. “Whoa. That’s really strong.” I coughed, letting go of Gerald’s sleeve. He turned around and ran down three steps before I called out after him. “Get back here unless you’d like all of Whipplethorn to know you ran away in the face of glue.”
Gerald tromped back up the stairs with his arms crossed. I walked into what used to be Grandma Vi’s sitting room, keeping my palm lit, though I hardly needed it. Light shone in from the human’s party through the sitting room’s open windows, soft and diffused. The room didn’t look like Grandma Vi had ever lived there, but, for the first time, it didn’t bother me.
“Look, Gerald,” I whispered. “They fixed everything.”
When I rescued Easy, the room was filled with smashed instruments. Now the floor was clean of debris and the instruments were sitting neatly on tables, held together with woodworker’s clamps. Some weren’t put together yet, their parts spread on felt pads, ready for reassembly.
“Hello,” I called. “We won’t hurt you.”
“Please don’t hurt us,” said Gerald.
“I’m Matilda and this is Gerald. We heard your music.” I paused. “Well, that’s not true. I didn’t hear it, but Gerald did. Please come out.”
Slowly, a dozen dark brown furry heads appeared from around corners, behind tables or cabinets. Their fur rippled when they moved. It concealed most features except for their eyes.
Gerald grabbed my hand and squeezed it white. “Oh, Matilda. Please let’s go.”
“It’s okay. Can’t you feel it?”
“I feel sick.”
“They’re friendly,” I said.
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Stop it, Gerald. Horc was right, wasn’t he? Musical fairies aren’t violent.”
