by E M Graham
His eyes widened slightly at this.
“That’s my dad,” I added.
He sat himself down on the boulder, with his shoulders drooping. The glamour wavered, then disappeared, and I saw Thursk for the truly pathetic creature he was. I shifted slightly, trying to get up wind of him, anything to ease the stink.
“There is something we need,” he said, his sharp little teeth catching at his bottom lip as he spoke, causing him to speak with a bit of a lisp. “You’re right, I’m not Oberon. Oberon banished me from the Eden that is the homeland many years ago, sending me and my family across the ocean. The salt water! Not all of us survived that treacherous journey, how could we? The salt ate at the very fabric of our beings.”
“If salt is so corrosive to you, why didn’t you move inland, away from the ocean? There’s hundreds of miles of wilderness out there in the center of the island. You don’t have to remain here on the coast.”
“We stay because we live in hope, hope that dearest Oberon will forgive me my trespasses (they really were so trifling) and allow my clan back into the fold. We perch here on this rock and wait for his summons.”
He coughed wetly.
“You don’t sound well,” I noted as I tried to shift further away from him without hurting his feelings. I didn’t need sick fairy germs on top of it all.
“I am ill,” he said as he gave me his most doleful face. “We are all ill. Worst of it is, the youngest of us is the most vulnerable, and she is almost... dead.”
“You have a sick baby?” I’m not a big fan of kids, but jeez... our cat had kittens once, and one of them got ill, so ill that we couldn’t help it. It died. That was the saddest thing I’ve ever lived through. Besides, of course, Mom’s disappearance.
He darted a quick glance at me, then gave another heavy sigh. “Do you know of any human babies?”
“I’m not getting you a human baby!” I told him. “I said anything within reason, and that is so totally unreasonable.”
I made as if to get up and leave to show him how serious I was.
“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “We have no use for a human baby! Nasty, puling things, they are. What we need is... mother’s milk. The milk that only a loving human Mum can provide.”
“Ah, gross,” I groaned, trying desperately to wipe that image from my mind, this horrible little creature suckling... Oh, God. “Would formula do you?”
“No, absolutely not,” he repeated firmly. “Only true milk.”
“You want me to persuade some human mother to come all the way over here to give you some milk from her boobs. It’s not going to happen, I can tell you that right now.”
“Not so hasty my dear friend,” he wheedled. “There may be a way around this dilemma. I understand that humans now have the habit of, I believe it’s called, expressing milk into bottles?”
I thought of Jane, and how she would often ask me to feed the littlest one from the bottles in the fridge when she was gone downtown partying. It was also useful for her to be able to give the bottles the next morning with the alcohol still in her system. I nodded, slowly.
“One bottle, that’s all I need,” he said softly. “You see, once the youngest of us has been made well, so all of us will thrive. A half-pint of milk... that’s all it would take. Such a simple thing. Such a small thing, to mean so much... and I’m sure I could persuade your Benjy to return to your world with you.”
I shook off the glimmerings of glamour he was trying to throw on me. “I don’t know what a pint is, but I might be able to get you a bottle.”
He smiled beatifically at me, once more transformed into his fine gent self.
“I said might, don’t get your hopes up too high. And I want your assurance that he’ll be freed.”
“The man has free will, as do all men,” he said, all trace of his speech impediment gone. “But I promise you, I will do my utmost to convince him. He might want to leave.”
What more could I do? I didn’t trust Thursk, not one bit, but this was my only hope to free Benjy. I was babysitting tomorrow night for Jane, and that would be my opportunity.
I hated this, okay? But we needed to save that jerk Benjy. The baby wouldn’t miss one bottle of milk.
MARK DROPPED IN that night to tell me he had started looking for Benjy. I hated to see him put all that energy into looking for Alice’s brother now because he wasn’t lost anymore, or at least not lost in the ‘missing persons’ sort of way. But I couldn’t very well tell him that Benjy was stuck in a rabbit hole with a bunch of fairies.
“So, he hasn’t shown up in any hospitals or morgues in Atlantic Canada,” Mark said. “And he also hasn’t been arrested anywhere in the country.”
“That’s good news,” I agreed.
“But you know what the weird thing is? There’s no record of him leaving on any flights or ferries, even the St. Pierre one.”
St. Pierre and Miquelon are two tiny islands on the south coast of Newfoundland, still owned by France. Benjy had been down there a bit before in order to smuggle cheap booze and cigarettes up into Canada.
“Hmm,” I answered, trying not to squirm.
“So he must still be on the island,” Mark said. “Any idea where he might be holed up to? Perhaps a friend’s cabin?”
“It’s a big island.” I shrugged. “He could be anywhere, I guess. I’m not actually that worried about him, I’m sure he’ll show up again.”
“Not worried?” Edna broke in. “Dara, the other day you were begging for help. What changed?”
“Well, he sent Alice a text to say he was okay,” I mumbled. “He just didn’t say where he was.”
This news was met with a momentary silence. Then Edna started in at me.
“Thanks for letting Mark know! He wasted valuable time looking for your friend. You should be a little more thoughtful...”
“S’alright, Edna,” he said. “I’m sure Dara’s been pretty busy.”
“Sorry Mark,” I said, looking down at the table.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on his sort. You never know what he’d be up to next.”
I felt like such a shit, but I had other things on my mind now too.
Although I hadn’t shown it at the time, it had really creeped me out when Dad told me about the dead woman being a half-blood. Mark had said her body was found amidst arcane runes and symbols and I couldn’t help but notice on my walks that the Witch Kin purity graffiti was spreading, seeping from the dark alley like pus from a wound to spread ever further into the daylight until there were representations of the merged symbol right out in the open. There, on the boarded up window of an empty Water Street storefront, and yonder on the stone fence below the old Anglican Cathedral graveyard. Then finally, on the very wall of the Court House itself.
And no one was cleaning it off.
Over the next day, I also had an uncomfortable sensation of being watched, as if there were eyes on me every time I left the house. I would turn quickly to try to catch whoever it was, but there was never anyone there. I suspected it might be witch craft, so I sent out mental feelers hoping to latch onto something that was aimed in my direction, but those searches turned up nothing.
I told myself it just had to be Hugh and Dad keeping a strict eye on me, making sure I didn’t go upsetting any of their apple carts doing magic or anything else like that. I hated that they didn’t trust me not to meddle in supernatural activities, or rather, I hated that they thought it was their business what I did. Neither of them was willing to lift a finger to help Benjy when they so easily could. I had no choice in the matter, so it wasn’t really my fault what happened next. It really wasn’t.
9
I KEPT UP THE MIND BLOCKING to stop Dad and Hugh from spying on me, not that I was doing anything the next day except skipping classes and hanging out in the library, trying to bone up all things fairy related.
I ran into Sasha in the library, or should I say, I saw her and stuck my head de
ep back into my books and ignored her. She was usually cool with that.
But not that day. The new guy she’d been hanging round with for the past few months chose to sit at the table right across from me and she joined him, though I could tell she was reluctant. Seth, from Montreal, that was his name.
He was a witch, and he was also a French Canadian so the glamour practically dripped from him every time he shook that luscious head of black hair. His eyes held liquid dark like the deepest wells. I could tell she had a major crush happening, and really, who could blame her? He was a magnet for the eye, and a girl just wanted to drink and drink of him to sate a thirst she didn’t even know she had.
He looked up and saw me staring, and once caught, I couldn’t let go of that gaze.
Seth turned to whisper in Sasha’s ear, all the while holding me captive with his eyes. Then it was her turn to look up at me, the hate and jealousy and something else coming off her like darts. She gave a fake laugh and draped herself over him.
I felt like a specimen on one of Alice’s petri-dishes.
“That’s the one,” she murmured as she shook her head. “The mongrel.”
He continued holding me with his gaze while his hand slipped over Sasha’s left breast and his red lips parted. God, was he going to start feeling her up right there in the middle of the library? And she, the ice-queen, was letting him. Unbelievable.
Seth said something else to her, and she laughed again, but with a slight tremor running through it like fear.
“God, no,” she said, her smile forced on her face. “Why would we bother?”
Seth’s eyes never left mine the whole while and I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. I watched as he licked those perfectly shaped lips of his and kept his hand on her breast. That’s all, he didn’t move it an inch, but I could see her breath catching.
I hate to admit it, but mine was too a little. He was hot, Sasha’s new beau.
The room was growing very warm and something deep inside me was responding to him, something dark perhaps last felt in a nightmare or a wet dream, the kind forgotten in the light of day but that lingered deep within, below the conscious mind.
His eyebrows flicked up as if to invite me to join them and I almost found myself getting up from the table.
What the hell?
I had to nearly physically wrench myself to break the spell between me and him, and I looked again at my sister who was stuck to his side like a fly in a spider’s web. Was that ecstasy on her face, or terror?
“You are such a creep,” I muttered as I grabbed my books and prepared to leave. “Both of you. Freakin’ witches.”
I could feel his eyes still burning into my soul as I ran out the door.
WEDNESDAY EVENING WAS babysitting night, and I planned to slip a bottle of Jane’s milk into my knapsack before she came home again. I was sure if I told her what it was for she’d be okay with it because she was pretty laid back and New Agey like that. Still, I held back because the fewer people who knew about all this supernatural business the better.
The two older kids, Tiffany and Braden, were bouncing around me the minute I got in the front door, hanging off my jeans and trying to get a sneak peek into my knapsack to see what delights I’d brought.
“I’m so glad they love you,” Jane said. “I don’t know if I could trust anyone else with these kids. You make my life so much easier.”
Trust. Jesus. “What can I say?”
“You know, it’s funny. I would never have pegged you for someone who likes kids, Dara, you always seemed so grumpy and moody when we were growing up.”
Jane was a few years older than me. She had been paid to take me up the road to St. Mary’s School back when I started kindergarten. We’d walk a meandering path through the old graveyard, and she’d make up stories about the pretty fairies and pixies and other beings who dwelled there in her imagination amongst the trees and gravestones. The stone angel was her favourite. I had tried to tell about Maundy, the ghost in our house, but she cut me off and scolded me for trying to scare her.
We all said our chorus of good-byes to her as she slipped out the door in her stilettoes and short skirt and into the waiting cab. Then it was treat time. They especially liked Mars Bars, those sickly sweet gooey confections, and I’d stocked up on a bag of Hallowe’en minis.
After they had gorged and we’d played some video games I brought with me, I heard the baby stirring upstairs so I got a bottle ready in the microwave, following Jane’s instructions to the tee. I was about to bring it upstairs when a knock came on the back door.
I couldn’t see anyone out the window, but then the knock came again. I admit I wasn’t thinking, I figured it must be tiny Mrs. Jones from next door. Eighty years old and under five feet tall, she was always dropping in to Jane’s on any excuse because she loved babies.
So, I undid the double locks and opened the door, and there were two frigging fairies in front of me. Not Thursk, these were younger ones, all decked up in their fancy togs.
“Good evening, lady,” the male said as he cocked his top hat boldly. “I believe you have something for me?”
“No way!” I held the bottle up and back behind me and hissed at him. “You’re not getting this till I know that Benjy is free. I told Thursk that!”
“I regret to inform you of this slight change in plans, so sorry if this inconveniences you.”
I made to shut the door in his face but they pushed past me roughly, almost knocking me down. Who knew those horrible little creatures had such strength?
The other jumped up in a flurry of silken skirts and grabbed the bottle out of my hand and then they both disappeared into the house, so fast that if I’d blinked I would have missed it.
Running after them, I almost tripped over Tiffany who had come out to see what was happening.
She stood in my way with her little hands on her hips. “Who was that? They smell bad. What’re they doing in my house?”
I gently maneuvered around her, all the while pushing her back into the living room.
“Stay in there and keep the door closed,” I told her. “Hold tight to Braden. If that thing gets a hold of you there won’t be any more chocolate tonight.”
She did what I told her to, banging the door on her way.
Taking the steps two at a time, I ran first to the baby’s room, but she was still in there, asleep again and no sign of the fairies except a lingering malodour despite the open window. Had it been open before? Jane believed in fresh air for health reasons. I checked every other room and all the closets, even the linen closet at the top of the stairs, but I could see no one.
The fairies had disappeared. I searched with my mind, too, but could feel no overt trace of supernatural in the house. I leaned against the rails in relief, whatever had just happened, it looked like all was well now.
Except that the little shit had stolen the bottle of Jane’s milk and now I had no bargaining chip against Thursk for Benjy’s freedom. I clumped back down the stairs, thinking hard. Would Jane notice two bottles missing? She probably would.
I rechecked the littles, they were safe in front of the TV. I gave them a couple more sweets to help Tiff forget the incident, and then it was bedtime.
Strange that the baby hadn’t woken up again, for she liked her feed regularly and on schedule. I got another bottle ready for her and brought it upstairs, and that’s when I discovered the true extent of the damage wrought by the visitor.
I don’t know what alerted me, for the baby looked the same as she had not half an hour previously, soft red curls barely covering her head as she slept peacefully on her tummy. But there was something not quite right about her, and when I picked her up she was absolutely flaccid, no muscle tone whatsoever.
Yes, I dropped her back into the crib, bottle and all, unmindful of damaging her for I knew what had been done. Not only had the fairies stolen the milk, they’d stolen the baby and left a sickly creature in its place.
�
�Shit shit shit!”
I’d really done it this time. Unless I was wrong, Jane now had a changeling in her nest.
“EDNA, I NEED HELP!” My hand was shaking so much I almost dropped my phone. “It’s the baby – she... she...”
“What is it? Is she breathing?”
“Oh, yeah, I guess, but she’s...”
“I’ll be right over. Do we need an ambulance?”
Jesus, what would they make of a changeling baby in the Emergency Department? That would be fun to explain. I groaned.
Edna was speaking to Mark. “Honey, call an ambulance to go to Jane’s house on Warbury Street. Sick baby!” She turned back to the phone. “Okay Dara, we’re on our way.”
I went down and unlocked the doors for them. They arrived at the same time as the ambulance from St. Clare’s Hospital up the hill – our society takes sick babies seriously. We all ran upstairs to the nursery – me, Edna, Mark and the two paramedics.
And saw the baby on her back suckling at the bottle, giving off little gurgles and grunts, happy as could be, though I could swear there was an evil glint in her eye as she looked up at me.
“Looks okay to me,” the first ambulance attendant said. “What were her symptoms?”
“Uhh, she was unresponsive,” I began.
They all looked at me with doubt.
“And she felt feverish!”
They checked her out, then gave her the thumbs up. I was subjected to a short lecture on the care of babies and wasting valuable public resources. I wasn’t even the one who called for the ambulance, that was Mark, but they didn’t tell him off, did they? No, it was all my fault. Jerks.
And then of course, Jane had to be called back from her evening out, and to make matters worse she found the empty Mars Bars wrappers scattered all over the living room next to the video game.
In one single evening, I had totally screwed up any chance of bargaining to get Benjy back, possibly lost Jane’s baby and definitely lost my job. I didn’t even get the opportunity to lift a second bottle of milk. Sometimes it sucked to be me.
