A Sinister Spell in Faerywood Falls

by Blythe Baker

  “Um…is everything okay?” I asked, fear starting to make the little hairs on my arm stand up.

  Mrs. Bickford rolled her eyes and gestured to the thin air beside her. “It’s my husband, Jim. Even as a ghost, he can’t admit that my Bolognese was better than his. Typical man, am I right?”

  “Your husband is a…ghost?” I asked hesitantly, wondering if I should be calling Aunt Candace. I knew she and Bliss had told me my landlady was harmless, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t creeping me out.

  Mrs. Bickford nodded, her fists remaining firmly planted on her hips. “Yes, but that doesn’t stop him from still being a pain in my foot, does it? Now he can bother me at any hour, and since he doesn’t need to sleep or eat, it gives him extra time to try to tell me how to do my job.” She turned her gaze back to the air. “Yes, I know you mean well, dear. I just think you should find a hobby or something else to do. I could handle these inspections before, and I still can.”

  I swallowed nervously.

  “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure I passed that little bit of information along,” Mrs. Bickford said with a smile that I wasn’t sure was entirely genuine. “Did you have any questions for me while I’m here?”

  I glanced briefly at the doggie door. “No, that’s everything, I think. If I think of anything, I’ll be sure to come and find you.”

  “No problem,” Mrs. Bickford said. “You have a great night, Marianne.”

  “You as well, Mrs. Bickford,” I said, following her out to the porch.

  “I had that last night, dear,” Mrs. Bickford said to the air beside her, glowering. “I’m in no mood for indigestion this late in the day.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned around, heading back inside. “She’s a few screws short of a hardware store…” I muttered under my breath.

  In reality, though, I didn’t have any room to talk, did I? I was talking with a fox before Mrs. Bickford barged in here without notice. With my mind.

  I collapsed on the couch, scrubbing at my forehead with my fingers.

  If I was willing to entertain the idea that I was communicating with a fox, then I should also be prepared to believe that the older woman really could see her dead husband’s ghost.

  My head collapsed onto the cushion behind me, and I groaned.

  She is a peculiar one, isn’t she?

  I flinched, but at least I didn’t tumble out of the couch. Maybe my surprise receptors were overtaxed at that point. I opened one eye and saw that the fox had come out of hiding, and was perched on the arm of the couch, watching me steadily as its tail swung back and forth behind it.

  I lifted my head, giving the fox a good look over. “All right. If you and I somehow share this…connection that we seem to have, I guess it’s only polite that we introduce ourselves. My name is Marianne. What’s yours?”

  The fox blinked. I do not have a name in the same way that you do.

  I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Well, you’ll need a name so I can call you something instead of ‘Fox’.”

  Would you care to give me one?

  I fixed my gaze on the tiny creature. “I…I guess I could. I don’t know anything about you, though.”

  Do humans not name their pets when they bring them into their homes? The fox asked.

  “No, they do,” I said. I frowned. “I wouldn’t necessarily think of you as a pet, though. You’re…different.”

  Is it I who is different, or you? The fox asked, its tail swinging.

  I was caught off guard by that question. “I…I don’t know. I mean, I guess I could be different. Everything has been so weird since I got to Faerywood Falls.”

  Then perhaps something has changed in you that has allowed you to hear my thoughts, the fox mused. It was almost as if I could hear a purr. Did foxes purr? I know that I am no different than I was before we met. Can you say the same?

  “No, I guess I can’t.” I said.

  Suddenly I remembered the woman at the gas station with the squirrel on her shoulder, and the raccoon in the nest behind the counter. She seemed completely content with them.

  Almost in the same way I was with this fox, now.

  “You don’t think…” I said, my brow furrowing. “That other people around here can talk to animals, too…do you?”

  The fox blinked slowly at me. There have been stranger things to happen in this forest. Did you meet someone like that?

  I quickly explained about the woman at the gas station. “When I accidentally touched her, there was like this pulse that ran down my spine, almost like a shock or something. I would’ve written it off as static electricity, but it was way different than that. Something more.”

  Do you think she somehow passed this ability on to you? The fox asked.

  “Well, maybe,” I said. “I mean, before that, I definitely couldn’t talk to animals. But then I find you, and then we can communicate…” I glanced out the window. “I wonder if I can only talk to you, or if there are other animals I could try talking to.”

  There is only one way to find out, the fox said.

  “I suppose you’re right…” I said. But I couldn’t find the strength to pull myself off the couch and go out looking for a bird or frog to talk to. I also didn’t have the courage to admit that something could have actually happened to me, giving me this…ability? Power? I didn’t know what to think of it.

  I never thanked you, the fox said, lifting one of its black footed paws and licking it lazily. For saving me last night. It was a very heroic thing to have done.

  “I couldn’t just leave you there on the side of the road,” I said. “I never would have forgiven myself.”

  I am humbled by your kindness, the fox said. Most humans would think nothing of leaving me there.

  “Well, your perception of humanity seems pretty dead on,” I said, stretching my arms up over my head before letting out a long exhale and collapsing back into the cushions. “All right, so you need a name. Well, first things first, are you male or female?” I asked.

  The fox tilted its head to the side. Female, of course. I thought that much was obvious.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m still new to foxes in general. I’ve only ever admired your kind from a distance. All right, so let’s try a few. What about…Red?” I asked.

  If she could have arched an eyebrow at me, I thought she would have.

  “Too general?” I asked, nodding. “Okay. What about…Lily?”

  As in the flower? She asked. I think not.

  “Okay, no inspiration from nature, then.”

  We continued like this for some time, trying to find the right name for her. She didn’t like any of them, and it was well after dark when we’d settled in. I’d spent a few hours hauling things from my car to the cabin, all the while volleying names to the fox for approval.

  “You know, you are awfully opinionated for someone who doesn’t know what they want their name to be,” I said. “You didn’t like flower names, or names based out of books. I even tried some more ethereal names. None of them suited you.”

  None of them rang true to me, she said. I simply wish to find the most reasonable one.

  “Reasonable,” I said, combing through a box I’d tucked onto one of the rickety kitchen chairs. I found my tea kettle and yanked it out. “You sound like the Greek goddess Athena. I did a project about her in fifth grade. She was supposed to be ruled by her reason, and often would forget about her emotions and compassion for others because of it.”

  Athena…the fox said. I rather like the sound of that.

  I rolled my eyes and turned to her. “Really? Out of all the names we talked about, you pick the one I just happen to mention in passing?”

  You yourself said that I resemble her in a way, the fox said. Her tail flicked and wrapped around herself. Yes. I like Athena.

  I sighed, but smirked at her as I filled my tea kettle. “Very well, then. Athena it is.”

  10

  Monday came too quickly. It always d
id, but after spending all weekend unpacking boxes and finding creative places to store my belongings in the tiny cabin, I felt like I hadn’t gotten any rest at all. The most relaxing time I’d had was when I’d gone for dinner at the lodge, enjoying another delicious meal prepared by Bliss.

  Athena hadn’t been unhappy to stay home then, but as I packed a backpack with a few things I’d need for my first day of work, she hopped up onto the seat of the bicycle and blinked at me. I’m going with you, she said.

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  Well, whatever this magic is that connects us –

  “It’s not magic,” I said for the hundredth time. “It’s…something else.”

  Athena sniffed in annoyance. Whatever it may be, it draws me to you, and I feel less anxious when we are together. Besides, what are you going to do all day in that big shop all by yourself?

  “Work,” I said, clipping my helmet underneath my chin. “Like any good employee should.”

  I soon realized there was no arguing with her. She was bullheaded and much faster than I gave her credit for, because she’d hopped into my backpack and settled in while my back was turned as I was filling my thermos with coffee.

  I found her and could only sigh. “All right, but you can’t be seen,” I said.

  That won’t be a problem, she said.

  I’d ridden the bike back and forth to the lodge, but hadn’t realized just how out of practice with riding a bike I really was. It left my muscles sore and aching, numbing everything from my hips down. The antique shop wasn’t all that far away, but part of it was uphill, which meant I was walking next to the bike, gripping onto it for dear life as I panted and wiped sweat from my forehead.

  Athena seemed to be enjoying herself when we were actually riding, though. She’d peek her head out of the bag and sniff at the air like a dog, squinting against the wind and sun.

  I liked having her company. I’d never really had a pet of my own as a kid. Mom was so allergic to cats that she’d swell up like a sausage if we ever visited family that owned any, and she’d been bitten by a dog when she was young and so she didn’t like them.

  Athena was different, though. She fended for herself, for the most part, but insisted that I still give her milk when she came in for the night. I had found her lying in patches of warm afternoon sunlight more than once in the few days we’d been living together, and she still didn’t know that I’d recognized the weight and warmth against my legs in the middle of the night as her way of being affectionate.

  I parked my bike around the back of the shop and walked around to the front, using the great big key that Abe had given me to unlock the door. Athena’s whiskers tickled my face as she peered over my shoulder.

  This place has an interesting presence, she said.

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked. I knew that she could hear my thoughts sometimes, but we still hadn’t really learned how to do that well yet.

  I’m not sure. It’s familiar, but it’s almost like it has a life of its own, she said. It must be the magic.

  “What did I say about using the word magic?” I asked as I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  Just because you won’t admit it exists doesn’t mean it doesn’t, she retorted.

  I groaned.

  It was dim inside, even after I’d switched the lights on. I noticed a few bulbs had burned out, and more than one light fixture had spiderwebs hanging inside.

  After I went up and said good morning to Mr. Cromwell, I located the cleaning supplies in the narrow closet behind the counter and began to work. I wanted the shop in some semblance of order before I reopened it.

  Athena located a shelf in the middle of the store and perched on top of it, watching me as I swept the floors, dusted the surfaces, and scrubbed at the windows. It was only noon before I took a step back and admired my work.

  “It already looks better in here,” said a voice near the stairs.

  I whirled around and saw Abe standing there, a perfectly content smile spreading up his face.

  “You’ve done a magnificent job, young lady,” he said, peering at me over his spectacles. “I really don’t know how I can thank you.”

  I smiled back at him. “I’m happy to do it, Mr. Cromwell. This is a welcome difference to my hectic job as an accountant.”

  “That’s what your aunt said,” Mr. Cromwell said. “Well, why don’t we flip that open sign and let the world know we are back open for business?”

  I walked over to the window, and after giving the sign a much needed wipe with the cloth in my hand, flipped it around.

  “And now…we wait,” Mr. Cromwell said, his smile growing wider.

  The first few hours were a little slow, but I hadn’t really expected anything else. I didn’t think we’d get any customers the first day being open. I remembered that Dr. Valerio mentioned he would stop by, but hadn’t said when.

  Mr. Cromwell sat down in a chair behind the counter, clearly wanting to see the revival of his business with his own eyes.

  I wasn’t surprised that Athena had made herself scarce. When I tried to reach out to her with my mind, I realized I must have been the one struggling to make the connection, and not her. It made me start to think about whether or not distance would affect our communication, too. The whole thing was so strange to me still that I figured it was better to just go along with it than try to reason it out.

  Every time I thought about my new ability, though, I kept going back to that woman at the gas station. That had to be the source of it. I had no other reasonable explanation.

  I continued to sweep and dust until I was content that no one would have a sneezing fit when they stepped inside, and set about rearranging some of the items. I tried to organize them by type, and if I couldn’t, I tried to arrange them by time period. Mr. Cromwell had a nice arrangement of early twentieth century chairs, and I put them all together with a table and a tea set in a corner, as if inviting the customers over for an afternoon of elegance.

  Mr. Cromwell seemed thrilled at the changes. “I like your spunk, kid,” is what he told me.

  We’d had three customers before I found I was brave enough to approach the bookshelf in the back. I hadn’t gone near it since I’d found that red leather book when I’d come here with my aunt.

  The curiosity was too strong, though. I had to look at it again.

  Mr. Cromwell had excused himself to go take some of his afternoon medicine, and the store was empty.

  I made my way over to the shelf with a duster in hand, intending to look busy if any new customers appeared. Part of me hoped they wouldn’t walk in if the book decided it wanted to hover above my hands again. I didn’t feel like trying to explain something that I hardly understood myself.

  I pulled the book off the shelf and flipped it open. It looked the same as I remembered, with glimmering blue letters that seemed to shift and change, and were in no particular order.

  Is this the book you were telling me about?

  I whirled around, looking near my feet, but didn’t see Athena anywhere.

  Up here.

  I looked up and saw her lying on top of some satin drapery. Her tail flicked lazily behind her, and her front paws were crossed.

  “Yeah,” I said, willing my now racing heart to slow. “I just wanted to look at it again.”

  You said it floated last time, right?

  “When I said a certain word, yeah,” I said. “The only thing is, I can’t remember what that word was. It started with an R, I remember that much.”

  Maybe try saying a few words, see if it works again, Athena suggested.

  I did, but nothing happened.

  I even flipped to the part of the book where the letters changed from blue to red. None of them made any sense, though.

  “They’re changing so fast I can’t read anything,” I said, squinting at the page. “Maybe I just imagined the whole thing, after all.”

  That’s what you thought about hearing me, though, Athena said
. I don’t think you would have imagined something so clearly.

  She was probably right.

  “Oh, here’s something,” I said, tracing my finger down the page. Some of the letters seemed to have stabilized. “I can almost read it…Fro…sen…tia?”

  I stared at the book, but there was no glowing, no humming, no indication that anything had happened.

  “Well, that definitely wasn’t the same word I spoke the other day,” I said.

  Marianne, look!

  I lifted my head to Athena, who was now standing, her nose pointing in a direction over my head.

  I looked up and saw an antique clock sitting on the top shelf of the bookcase. The golden face of the clock was starting to cloud over, and it took me a second to realize that it was, in fact, frosting over.

  I stared at it, open mouthed.

  Streaks of ice covered the glass, and I could hear it cracking and snapping as if it were below zero in the room.

  Marianne, you should move…Athena said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  Just move –

  I ducked just as the face of the clock shattered, spraying glass and gears outward into the store.

  I looked down at the book in my hands, putting the two together, and snapped it shut, hefting it up onto a nearby table.

  “What was that?” Mr. Cromwell called from the top of the stairs. “Did I just hear glass breaking?”

  “Yes, Mr. Cromwell, I’m sorry,” I said, getting to my feet and brushing the bits of glass from the front of my shirt. “I was cleaning and this clock…it just shattered.”

  “Was it the one with the little dancing people?” he asked.

  I took a closer look at the remains of the clock. “No,” I said.

  “All right, that’s good,” he said. “No harm done. It was bound to happen at some point.”

  “Yeah, but not on my first day…” I said under my breath.

  The tiny bell above the door chimed as the door opened, and three people stepped inside.