A Sinister Spell in Faerywood Falls

by Blythe Baker

  “Now, this town is a little humbler than some places, but I think you’ll find that while we don’t have thirty choices for bottled water at the grocery store, we more than make up for it in small town charm and quality.”

  As she spoke, we rounded a corner, and the town came into view. It was tucked away in a shallow valley, with mountains far in the distance beyond. A river ran right through the middle, with small bridges connecting the houses and shops that were dotted around among the trees.

  It certainly was humble, but that didn’t matter. There was a Mom and Pop shop on the corner right beside the river. According to the store’s sign, it sold milk and eggs at rock bottom prices. A grocery store that was not a chain stood open along the main street that only had one stoplight. I saw a gas station in the distance, and there wasn’t a mall or a pretentious coffee shop in sight.

  “It’s like stepping back in time,” I said, staring out at a few people walking down the sidewalks, waving to others on the opposite side of the street.

  “Your mother told me you have quite an interest in history,” Aunt Candace said with a grin. She brushed some of that gorgeous dark hair behind her ears again. “That’s what gave me the idea for this job for you.”

  “I do love history,” I said. “I wanted to be a history teacher, but I had a hard time with some of the classes in college. I discovered I was pretty natural at accounting, and went with that, instead.”

  “I heard you used to be an organist, as well,” Aunt Candace said.

  My heart twisted uncomfortably. That was something that still brought out the memory of Jacob, as I hadn’t played since his death. He’d asked me to come and play at the local church, which I had happily done for a long time, partly because it had given me a chance to be close to him. “Yeah, I did. The church I attended was this old, 19th century building that I fell in love with. I always wondered what sort of stories a place like that held that we would never know.”

  Aunt Candace smiled wider. “I really think you’re going to love this place, then.”

  She pulled into a small parking lot of a shop that was situated at the top of a hill, overlooking the valley. A short ways away, further down the road, I could see a diner, and I remembered passing a flea market that was open three days a week.

  A tattered, old sign swung in the breeze, revealing the name Abel’s Antiques.

  “An antique shop?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. “Really?”

  She nodded as she hopped out of the car. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to old Abe Cromwell.”

  A tiny bell rang as we stepped in through the front entrance. The ancient door looked like it had come off a castle or something, lined with iron and adorned with a heavy lock.

  It smelled of old books and dust inside. Shelves lined every wall, and formed narrow aisles throughout the rest of the shop. It seemed to offer something for everyone: silverware, lamps, sewing machines, and mismatched furniture. I saw a faded globe that had become almost amber it was so discolored, and a pair of golden scales that caught the light just right as it filtered in through the grimy windows. It was beautiful and sad all at the same time. These pieces, once so important to someone at some point in time, had ended up here, forgotten on a shelf.

  “Mr. Cromwell?” Aunt Candace called, walking between a shelf of glass mixing bowls and old gelatin molds. “It’s Mrs. Brooks. I brought that nice young lady for you to meet.”

  The shadows near the back of the room seemed to waver, and a man appeared. It took me a second to realize it was just a pair of black curtains that he’d parted and stepped through.

  He was a portly sort of man, with a round belly and thick hands. His head was balding and what little hair he did have was as white as snow. He wore spectacles on the end of his nose, and looked at me over the top of them, his nose wrinkling as he drew closer.

  “Candace, good afternoon,” he said in a wheezy voice. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “Nice to see you too, Abe,” she said with a smile. “This is Marianne Huffler, my sister’s girl. She’s come to stay with us out here in Faerywood Falls for awhile.”

  He looked me up and down. “I hear that you like history, young lady,” he said. “That would make you a good fit for this job. See, I’m getting old. I had a terrible illness a few years back, and then a fall a few months ago has really taken the strength out of me. Running this place is such a joy, but I just can’t keep up with it anymore. I’m not looking for much, just someone to help me manage the day to day workings so the store can reopen.”

  I looked over at my aunt, and saw her nod encouragingly at me.

  “He lives up in the apartment above the shop, so if you ever needed anything, he said you’d be able to come ask him. And Mr. Cromwell here has some very interesting stories that I’m sure you’d love to hear.”

  Abe smiled, and I saw one of his lower teeth was actually gold. “Faerywood Falls is a special place. It’s where my wife wanted to end up one day. And we did. It’s the only place I’ve ever lived where I’ve felt such peace and security.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m starting to see why so many people like this place, myself.”

  His grin widened. “Well, if your aunt can vouch for you like she has, then you’ve got the job, my dear. I’m anxious to get this store up and running again.”

  “The rest of the townsfolk will love to hear that you are reopening,” Aunt Candace told him.

  He told me my hours and what my pay would be, which was incredibly generous, as well as gave me a key. It was a thick iron key that was as long as my palm. He said there were only two of them, and I now had the second.

  “And you’re sure you’re all right starting on Monday?” asked Abe, looking at me intently over the top of his glasses.

  “Of course,” I said. I knew that I was going to need money sooner or later. “I really only need a couple of days to unpack.”

  He nodded. “Well, if you’re sure.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, Candace, there was something Bliss asked me to set aside for her earlier this year that I had completely forgotten about until you called last week. Would you mind coming with me upstairs to fetch it?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Candace said.

  Abe gestured toward the counter. “You go ahead and get yourself acquainted with things, Marianne. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  I watched them walk toward the black curtains separating the rooms.

  Tucking the huge key into the pocket of my jacket, I started wandering around, looking at things more closely. The cash register was in the back, and it looked simple enough to use. I found a record keeping book, and noticed there wasn’t a computer in sight. I found a glass cabinet that was locked that seemed to house more valuable items, like jewelry and real silver candlesticks. There was a fine layer of dust on nearly everything. It really must have been a while since this place had been open.

  My eyes fell on the book section, and I made my way over, perusing the selections that Abe had collected over the years. There were a lot of travel guides for the area that had to have been written in the seventies. There were cookbooks, nature books, and a rather impressive collection of books about fishing. With all the great rivers and lakes around, it didn’t surprise me.

  I spotted a dusty, faded red tome on the end of the second row, wedged in between the wood and a set of paperback novels. It had golden writing down the spine, but some of the letters had faded and I couldn’t make out the title.

  Curiosity overtook me as I pulled the book off the shelf. It looked so old, and it was so different than all the others that I just couldn’t help myself. I wondered if it belonged in a museum instead of an antiques shop.

  When I flipped it open, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe some sort of storybook for children, or historical accounts or documents. Instead, I found lines of letters, from the top of the page down to the bottom, all in neat rows. It was as if I was staring at some strange word search.

  The letters were all wr
itten in a shimmering blue ink that seemed to almost shift and change before my eyes. A letter C suddenly became an S, and I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t just made up the whole thing in my mind.

  I scratched at my chin, wondering how on earth Abe had come across a book like this. Did he even know he had it? How long had it been sitting there?

  I flipped through the pages, and there was nothing obvious to distinguish one set of pages from the next. No chapter headings, no numbers anywhere.

  It was so strange.

  The only thing that seemed to change at all was the letters themselves. I assumed it was just the light playing tricks on my eyes, since the ink was so iridescent, but I couldn’t be sure.

  They were definitely letters I recognized, so whatever it said, it was written in an original Latin language. What was strange, though, was how it was written in an almost Asiatic way, up and down. It made me wonder if it also read from right to left, too.

  The blue text glimmered beneath my gaze, and I scrolled my finger down the page.

  It doesn’t make any sense, I thought. This whole row here are consonants. You couldn’t speak this if you tried.

  “H, D, T, G, K…” I read. Could it be an acronym for something? But the whole book couldn’t be an acronym, could it?

  Suddenly excited, I kept flipping pages, wondering if I’d stumbled upon something encrypted. It was as if I was in a movie, and this was the climax of the whole story.

  I paused when the color of the ink suddenly changed. It was now a rosy red, and still glimmered as if written in an ink dusted with the finest of glitter.

  And a word had appeared on the page, too. Something that at least looked like a word.

  Ressen.

  Ressen. What could that mean? Was it a name? Was it a place?

  I chewed on the inside of my lip. It was the word that made up the first column on the right side of the page.

  “Ressen…” I whispered.

  It was as if I could taste the word on my tongue. It was sweet, like honey or maple syrup. It filled my mind, echoing like the gonging of a bell, reverberating around inside of me like light bouncing off a mirror.

  The book in my hands suddenly became very light. I stared down at it, wondering why I couldn’t feel it against my skin anymore.

  I gasped as I saw the book hovering in the air, just above my hands, as if it were caught in an anti-gravity chamber.

  I could only stare. There was a dim shimmering light that was emanating from around the pages, bathing my fingertips in a blue glow. A hum filled my ears, but I couldn’t find its source. It was soothing, like a salve for my soul.

  I was imagining this. My brain had finally snapped. All the stress of the last few weeks…moving across the country, finding out I was adopted…it was just making me come unhinged. It was the only way I could explain all of the weird things I’d seen and experienced lately.

  I was having a mental breakdown in the place where I’d just taken a job.

  Footsteps on the stairs behind me made my heart jump.

  “…And don’t you ever think you’re being an imposition,” I heard Aunt Candace say. “You are welcome at our table whenever you want. Bliss will even swing by and get you if you’re having a harder time than usual getting around.”

  “You really are too kind, Candace,” Abe said as the two of them appeared at the counter.

  Fear flooded my veins, making my knees weak. Without thinking, I snatched the book out of the air, snapping it shut as I did. The blue glow disappeared, and the hum died away.

  I hurriedly tucked the book away on the shelf, exactly where I’d found it.

  Abe spotted me as I turned and headed back toward them, my heart in my throat.

  He smiled. “I hope you’re finding everything to your liking?” he asked.

  “You have some real treasures here, Mr. Cromwell,” I said. “I’ve never seen a more eclectic collection.”

  He beamed at me.

  “Well, we should let Mr. Cromwell rest,” Aunt Candace said, gently laying her hand on my shoulder.

  “Thank you very much for the job offer,” I told Mr. Cromwell as he walked with us to the door. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

  He smiled again. “But of course. I think you will find some strange and unique things here.”

  He had no idea.

  8

  I squinted against the sunlight as we stepped out of the shop. I hadn’t realized how dark it was inside.

  I’ll make sure it’s cheerful and bright in there, too. We wouldn’t want to scare customers away.

  If I was honest, though, it wouldn’t be the dirty windows and dusty shelves that scared them away. It’d be the strange floating books.

  Stop it, Marianne. The book wasn’t floating. You’re just stressed.

  Yeah, that was it.

  I glanced out over the valley, taking in the view and pushing the weird book from my mind. I inhaled the sweet mountain air, heavy with the scent of pine and the faint remnants of smoke from a bonfire being burned somewhere nearby.

  Across the valley nestled amongst the trees sat a stone structure. It caught my eye since it was such a contrast to the surrounding greens and browns of the trees, like a building carved from ice. It had towers arching straight into the sky.

  A twinge of fear flooded me as the images from my nightmares pushed into my mind. The tall walls of that structure reminded me of the old fort. Jacob’s dead eyes staring into the darkness–

  “Hey, Aunt Candace?” I asked while she unlocked her car as we walked toward it. I pointed out across the valley. “What’s that place?”

  She glanced in the direction I pointed, and I saw a flicker of fear pass over her face before she turned and smiled at me. “Oh, that’s the old Blackburn castle. It’s a little out of place, isn’t it?”

  I gazed at the castle. “Yeah. I didn’t think there were actual castles in the US.”

  “That’s because there aren’t,” she said. “Not in the truly old sense. This weird imitation of a medieval castle has been there for a long time, though. I guess the valley was sort of built around it. The Blackburns have lived there for many generations. Some say they used to be nobility from somewhere in Europe and came here to get away from persecution. Others have said they were oil barons and moved here to try and make a name for themselves when the gold rush happened. No one really knows for sure.”

  “Hasn’t anyone asked them?” I wondered aloud.

  “They keep to themselves for the most part,” Aunt Candace said. “Some people say it’s because they feel they’re too good for us. But Bliss seems to think they just like their privacy.”

  The castle loomed in the distance. It seemed shrouded in secrets, like something out of a fairytale.

  There was a scrape of shoes on the gravel behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder.

  A tall man with a slate grey peacoat was walking toward the doors of Abe’s shop. I saw a sleek red Ferrari parked just off to the side of Aunt Candace’s car. I blinked. How had I not noticed him pull up? Or had he been there before we came outside?

  I hadn’t even heard the car pull into the lot.

  “Come along, Marianne,” Aunt Candace said, dropping her voice. “There are some things that I need to take care of back at the lodge.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder and spotted us. “Ah, Mrs. Brooks. What a pleasure.” His voice was rich and deep, and he had an accent that I didn’t recognize. It was silky and thick, and I found myself wanting to hear him speak again just so I could hear it.

  He turned and I got a good look at him. He had a chiseled jawline where he sported a closely trimmed beard that was the same coppery red as his thick, windswept hair. It was well styled and yet looked effortless at the same time. As he approached, I noticed there were streaks of premature grey near his temples. And his eyes…they were like pools of liquid topaz, golden and mesmerizing.

  I was startled by how attractive he was. He had to be at least in h
is late thirties, but he’d aged incredibly well. I’d always heard that about men, but he seemed to be the reason that saying was started in the first place.

  A lump formed in my throat as he drew nearer.

  “Ah, yes. Hello, Dr. Valerio,” Aunt Candace said with a tight smile. I’d seen my mother use the same smile whenever she’d run into a passive aggressive neighbor that had lived at the end of our street. I was surprised to recognize it so easily.

  He stopped in front of us and looked over at Abe’s store. “I suppose the old man hasn’t opened his fine establishment again yet?”

  “Not yet,” Aunt Candace said. “But it will be open again this coming Monday.”

  His handsome face split into a smile, and his golden eyes seemed to shine. “Splendid. I take it he’s feeling well enough?”

  Aunt Candace spared me a glance. “Well, he’s hired some help. My niece here.”

  He turned his gaze to me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

  “This is Marianne,” Aunt Candace said. “Marianne, this is Dr. Valerio, the owner of the bank in town.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marianne,” Dr. Valerio said, holding out his hand. “And might I say…you have the most striking eye color. They’re like the sky before a storm.”

  My face flushed scarlet. I took his hand and shook it. His grip was strong, and his eyes never left mine. It was as if I was glued in place. “The pleasure is mine,” I said, my voice quivering slightly. I removed my hand from his, and it was like I lost something. A memory, or a feeling of some sort. It was distant, like it was just on the outside of my periphery. “That accent,” I said, desperate to move his focus off of me. “Is it French?”

  “Italian,” he said with an easy smile. It made my heart twinge in a strange way. “My parents were both from Rome, and I’ve spent a great deal of time there myself. Have you ever been?”

  “No,” I said, “But I’d love to one day.”