The Witch and the Bottle of Djinn (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 4)

by B. J. Smash

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Your lover?” Ladriant replied, raising an eyebrow.

  Heat rose up from my chest and spread to my cheeks. Perhaps some would consider Drumm my best friend or even my boyfriend but none had ever called him my “lover.” This stirred something inside me. I loved Drumm and wouldn’t mind taking things further than they’d gone, but there had been no time for that. A peck on the cheek, some handholding. That’d been the extent of it. We’d been training and learning. We were “warriors.” Izadora’s warriors. And sometimes I think she meant more to him than I did. I sighed, as Ladriant had touched a nerve.

  “Frustrated?” he asked me.

  “Just tell me where he is. I’m starting to think you’re a liar,” I said.

  He smirked. He seemed to enjoy antagonizing young ladies. Still crouching, he turned and pointed to the northeast. “He’s farther up. At a farm house.”

  “How do you know this?” I was nothing short of confused. He had to be extremely fast and uncannily proficient in strange places such as the disappearing town. Something I obviously lacked as a Light Elf.

  “I used to be the kings first man,” he said, as if he read my mind. “I am trained to watch those around me. The ones that can be seen and the ones that cannot. I’ve killed many beings; not by choice. Out of self-defense. I know what is around me. At all times.” He rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. “I sense by the way the birds fly and the deer run, and the vibrations of the Earth, that the others are around five miles that way.” He pointed to the north. Our paths will soon be meeting up. And you better be ready for the ‘official’ race…” he paused to look deeply into my eyes, “the last part of the race will be quick. The other’s will be relentless. Murder may be involved. And whoever gets that bottle will be granted anything their dark little heart’s desire.”

  “I already know,” I answered. “About the race.” What I didn’t know, was that the others were about five miles away. I had an idea. We had to eventually meet up but I had no clue what the distance between us could be. If Ladriant was correct, then he had an amazing ability to know his surroundings. I had done this several times before, where I could sense those around me. I had practiced it with Drumm, but I couldn’t sense things that far out.

  “Now, about your Light Elf. He’s being held by a young woman who wishes to marry him someday,” he snorted.

  “Huh?” My cheeks burned again but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment.

  “I do not know how but he fell from the sky. They think he’s an alien being,” the Dark Elf snorted again.

  “Great,” I said, leaning my head back on the tree. I could feel the trees smooth flowing energy coursing around beyond the bark, and it slightly calmed me. If what the Dark Elf was telling me was true, I needed to get out of here to help Drumm. I still didn’t know how it was possible for him to be here.

  “What else can you tell me?” I asked.

  “Nothing. That’s all I’ve been able to assess for now. I must continue on while you remain to help him escape. I cannot afford to miss this race. The bottle means a great deal to me,” he said the latter part through gritted teeth.

  Curious, I asked, “Why do you and your king need the bottle so badly?” I knew we all had our reasons but what was his?

  “No. Not for my king,” he said firmly.

  “But at the beginning of the race, you stated that you were racing for the king,” I said furrowing my brows.

  “Never. I would never race for that bastard.” His words shocked me.

  “The king is the reason I’m here, yes, but the bottle will be my freedom. I want to be released from the king and from the others. I am a loner and I long to be by myself without any more interference from them,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He let out a long sigh, and said, “I have my reasons.”

  “Let me ask you this. Why are you helping me? I mean…shouldn’t you be trying to get rid of me?”

  He smirked at me. “Like I said, I have a respect for your mother. And I am hoping that if I help you now, that you will help me later.”

  “I see…” I nodded my head and asked, “What do you need our help with?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I wasn’t going to get any more answers from him, and frankly I didn’t really care. “Well, I must be moving along.”

  There were several questions that I wanted to ask the Dark Elf named Ladriant but time wouldn’t have it. Time was wasting away like a decrepit old man. If it wasn’t, I would have liked to ask him how he had fared with the werewolves. But I didn’t see any wounds and so I figured he’d managed just fine.

  I would have asked him more questions about my mother and why he claimed that she’d soon be queen. I knew that my grandfather was not ill. Ladriant was lying to me for some reason. If my grandfather was ill, I’d be one of the first to know. Or would I?

  I swallowed hard and wiped my brow with the back of my hand. My family did seem to shelter me. Maybe that’s why I was having a hard time becoming independent. Their treatment of me was stunting my growth. However, I was my own person and it was up to me to be…me. To become independent. Regardless, Ladriant had to be lying. From what I did know, Dark Elven were not known for their helpfulness. This whole thing could somehow be a trick.

  He stood and held out his bloody, blistered hand for me to grasp. A nice gesture, I suppose. Or a test to see if I’d grab it. At first I cringed inside. The idea of taking ahold of his bloody hand made me want to hurl. The thing is…I had to stop being a wimp. I was in training to be something that my mother and father could be proud of. Something that Drumm, Ian, even Izadora could be proud of. A little blood and blistering shouldn’t faze me in the slightest. I reached my hand up and grabbed his, and he pulled me up.

  In the end, it was somehow a handshake. Somehow, he was being pleasant. I didn’t get any dark feelings from him at all. Still, I couldn’t trust him and hopefully I’d never have to.

  “See you around little warrior,” he said, and was off with great speed. His movements paralleled Drumm’s and he was a warrior to be reckoned with. The fact that he had just called me a “little warrior” made me smile. Again, he was belittling me. Yes, he’d helped me up the cliff. And yes, he’d released my leg from the iron trap. But it was doubtful he’d ever seen me fight. I wasn’t floating my boat or anything; but I know I’d put a hurtin’ on him if I had to. It was all the training with Drumm that helped me to be that confident. It was one thing being humble and knowing your limitations. It was another to know just how good you are.

  “Little warrior,” I harrumphed as I walked toward the direction of Drumm’s imprisonment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the direction that Ladriant had pointed me in, there was a rock wall, and I followed it down to an opening. I first saw the gardens when I climbed three stone steps that led up to a cobblestoned pathway. In between the stones grew thyme, and I inhaled it’s peppery, earthy smell. It had always been my favorite herb and I picked a few stems and tucked it in my braid.

  On both sides of the pathway hung huge clumps of purple wisteria that rippled softly in the breeze. Their intoxicating sweetness caused me to relax a bit, but not much. Patches of wildflowers grew in the midst of the greenery that lined the path. At the end of the tunnel stood a white wooden fence. Lifting the latch, I stepped through. To the left grew plump ripe red tomatoes on thick green vines. Stakes were plotted in rows to reveal more vegetables and to the right were flower gardens.

  Farther up stood an elaborate arbor, which had to have been built by a master woodworker. Grapevines filled with grapes sprawled over the extensive top and hung down the sides. It looked like something out of Ian’s garden.

  Whoever tended these gardens knew what they were doing. If I had more time, I’d stop to admire some of these plants. After crossing under the arbor, I could see the white farmhouse up ahead. I was in their backyard.

  I should have wa
lked around the front, knocked on the door, and introduced myself. But something that Ladriant said had made me think that Drumm was being held prisoner here. I opted to peek through a window first. Nothing wrong with assessing the situation. If there was a crazy old man holding him captive, I’d have to plot his escape. And so, I walked up to the first random window and through some rose bushes, and peered in.

  There he was. I could see his blonde head and strong build. The thorns were having no mercy on my arms but I pushed forward and squinted my eyes. The glass pane distorted my vision but I could see that he was alive; although his leg was lifted by a cloth and chain. “Dang,” I whispered. He’d broken his leg. Everyone was breaking their arms, legs, wrists or having seizures. First Aunt Clover, then Solstice, Lucian, and now Drumm.

  Putting my nose up to the window I could see more clearly. His face was scrunched up in pain and a young woman stood over him holding a bowl of soup. He slurped the liquid from a spoon that she held in front of his lips. She wasn’t unattractive. In fact, she was rather beautiful with her long golden curls. He took another sip from the spoon and she wiped his face with a kitchen towel. Bending down, she kissed him on the forehead…and the cheek…and then the other cheek. Leaning back, she watched him with a lusty expression. He turned his gaze to the ceiling.

  I stood there, mesmerized and a little disturbed. Someone was kissing on my boyfriend. I didn’t like it.

  I sensed someone creeping up behind me, even before I heard their footsteps, but I didn’t move. They were small; I could feel their presence. What could they do to me? But when I heard the click of a shot-gun…I relinquished my thoughts.

  “Put your hands up peeper,” a young girl’s voice squealed.

  I did as she commanded and turned ever-so-slowly to see a young girl around twelve years old. She was white as snow and had two long dark brown pony tails that hit a few inches above her waist. She wore an old-timey dress with frills and lace at the hem and black shoes.

  “Oh! It’s one of you! You’re an elven. Is that your beau inside?” She was all smiles now and appeared as nice as a kitten; but the old-fashioned shot-gun did not.

  I started to answer her, but she cut me off.

  “My sister just adores him, but you know what? It’s only because her fiancé was on the train with my mother and father. They were supposed to arrive on the morning that the town of Helsberg disappeared. All of these years I’ve wished that they had just gotten home before the town disappeared. Oh well. It’s sad but what can you do?”

  This saddened me. Her parents had been about to return home when the town disappeared?

  Just then, a door from the other side of the house slammed. I strained to hear what was going on. Someone was getting into a wagon with horses, and I heard the bridles and reigns shake. It was a lady. She whistled and they took off trotting over a gravel road.

  “That’s just my sister. She’s gone now to the farmer’s market to sell our vegetables. She’ll probably get him some red tulips while she’s there. They mean…love. And she loves him. But he don’t seem to return that love. Anyway, would you like to come in to meet my granny? She’s old and senile. She used to be the town’s midwife and soothsayer, but she is missing a few marbles these days…”

  The girl could talk. I had learned more about her family in three minutes without even saying a word about myself.

  “Oh! I’m sorry about the gun.” She lowered the gun, popped it open and removed two shells. “I would never use the gun. It’s to ward off salesman and the like. They aren’t always looking to sell, but to steal. Least that is what granny says. But they haven’t come around in a long time. I would never ever shoot your kind anyway. I love, love the elven.” She smiled from ear to ear, revealing pearly white teeth. They were crooked but her smile was beautiful.

  “You’re so pretty. And tall!” She stood before me now and gazed up. She came to about my chest.

  “I…uh…thank you,” I said not knowing how to respond.

  “What’s your name?” she asked. Before I could even mumble a word, she started guessing. “I bet it’s something like Edith, or Eunice, or Jasmine! I bet your name is Jasmine!”

  Again, I tried to answer but was cut short. “Or maybe…an old woodsy name like Elva!”

  “It’s Ivy,” I said as fast as I could.

  “Oh yes! That would have been my fifth or sixth guess. My name is Minnie.” She walked on and motioned for me to follow.

  A broken fence lay near the wood line at the side of the house. I’d seen it on my way in to the house. She pointed to it now, “That’s where he fell. Right down from the sky, like a fallen angel. I saw him fall. He just kind of appeared about twenty feet up and fell right on the fence. My sister and I helped him to the house. After talking to him, he told me he wasn’t an angel…but that he was elven. Imagine how happy I was to have an elven fall from the sky, and land in my yard. Oh, I was sorry to find out that he’d broken a leg, but still….an elven?”

  So, that was what happened. Somehow, Drumm had been rerouted to this place and not Hunter’s Hollow. He should have known better than to try to jump through the veil as the town was disappearing.

  “He keeps telling me to help him to a tree. But my sister won’t have it. She says trees are filled with worms and bugs. She makes him stay in bed. Says he’s delirious.”

  Drumm must be in a lot of pain if he wants to sit at a tree. I suddenly felt quite sorry for him.

  We came to the front of the house, and before we’d reached the front door I had learned the name of every farm yard animal. About fifteen chickens and two goats. Molly, Dolly, Candy, Fisher, Apple-dumpling, Fanny, Francis, Petunia, Mabel, Oscar…the list went on. Finally, I suggested that we get inside. I already liked this girl and didn’t want to appear rude, but my patience was wearing thin.

  We walked through the front porch door and stood inside a screened in porch. She tossed the gun on a wicker chair filled with cushions, and a housecoat, and proceeded to open the door to the kitchen. Once inside, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the next room. There sat her granny in a rocking chair, darning socks. An empty fireplace sat before her, with a long wooden mantle over the top. The mantle was filled with things a soothsayer might use. A jar of rice, and different colored bottles of various shapes and sizes (filled with God only knows what), a rolled up scroll of some sort, a glass ball, and several other things.

  “She’s done darned those things a million times. Me and my sister keeps cutting holes in them so she has something to do. Granny always has to keep her hands busy.”

  The old woman—who appeared to be in her nineties—looked up at me through her spectacles. Her head was covered in a scarf, and she had a big mole on her upper lip. She smiled a toothless grin and waved. I waved back.

  We walked through an open doorway and there he sat on top of a twin sized makeshift bed, with his leg extended up in the air by a homemade contraption. The quilt beneath him was made out of pink cloth and beside him on the nightstand sat a jar of various pink flowers.

  “Ivy!” Drumm said, getting excited. He moved his leg wrong and grimaced in pain. “Thank God you’re here. I don’t know how much more of this kissy, lovey crap I can take. That girl is…is…” he looked at Minnie, and cut his sentence short.

  She finished his sentence for him. “Crazy. I believe the word you are looking for is crazy. Now, let’s get you out of here while she’s away.”

  “First of all…it is not my leg. I have told her many times…it is my hip. Putting my leg up in this contraption has only made it worse,” Drumm fumed.

  I took a minute to chuckle at the deep red gooey blotches that dotted his forehead and cheeks. “I like the shade of lipstick she wears.”

  “She makes it herself using beeswax and plant dyes,” Minnie said, accepting the compliment for her sister.

  “Ivy. I am glad to see you think this is funny. Lots of laughter,” Drumm said with an over accentuated accent. He was trying to sound sarcastic.r />
  “I’m sorry Drumm. It’s just…you have lipstick all over your face.”

  “For three days…three days…she has kissed my forehead,” Drumm said, “and forced soup down my throat. I feel so tired.”

  “Yeah, that would probably be the laudanum she’s dropping in there,” Minnie said.

  “Laudanum!” Drumm and I cried out.

  “Yeah, she didn’t want him to escape. You see, she’s already having Mrs. Philips prepare a wedding gown. It’s imperative that we get him on his way,” Minnie said while she searched a set of drawers by the window. “My sister’s heart was broken ninety-eight years ago when the town disappeared. We live the same day over, and over, and over, and over, and the only time we age is when the town opens up every seven years to the public. Each time, my sister tries to find a husband. One that doesn’t change into a werewolf. So you can imagine when he fell into our yard…she thought he was sent straight from heaven.”

  I couldn’t say that I blamed Minnie’s sister for wanting to attach herself to Drumm…but too bad. I did feel sorry for her but I had to get him out of here immediately. I grabbed a dishtowel from the nightstand and began to wipe the dyed beeswax from Drumm’s brow. It was on the sticky side and took some effort to remove. Tossing the towel aside, I leaned down to help him up. That was when I realized his wrist was chained to the bed and the item Minnie was searching for was a key.

  “Found it!” she called out.

  “She chained you to the bed!” I screeched. For real…this girl was cuckoo.

  She skipped back over to Drumm and unlocked the padlock. His wrists were blistered from the iron clasp and it dawned on me how much he’d been suffering. I immediately apologized for laughing, and unclamped his leg from the homemade suspension contraption that Minnie’s sister had made. He groaned as I helped him sit on the edge of the bed.