Octavia Bloom and the Missing Key (Through The Fairy Door Book 1)

by Estelle Grace Tudor

  “Just a mouse,” Octavia said, trying to sound convincing as her torch picked up a small animal at the end of the corridor, but it moved too fast for her to really tell. Hastening their steps, they entered the attic. The milky moonlight barely lit up the cold attic floor, and the girls huddled together, shivering, in the centre of the room. Bronwen sniffed about and gave a little whine.

  “I don’t like it up here,” Beatrice complained. Martha nodded in agreement and drew her robe tighter around her.

  “Where was it, then?” she asked impatiently.

  “Right in this corner… Oh!” Octavia broke off as the light from her torch failed to make out the door. She shone the torch over the skirting board, back and forth, but the area remained stubbornly empty.

  Martha snorted in derision and raised an eyebrow at Beatrice as, in confusion, Octavia turned back to Felicity, who looked just as bemused.

  How did the door appear earlier? Octavia wondered. Did I say a magic spell by accident? Or maybe… She remembered that it had appeared after Felicity had grabbed her hand, so she did the same now, drawing Felicity closer to the corner of the room. A warmth spread down Octavia’s arm, tingling in her hand where it joined with Felicity’s, and the glittering light once again shot forwards from their clasped fingers. It sparkled in the glow of the torch, revealing the golden door once again.

  “There!” Octavia pointed triumphantly, turning to face Martha and Beatrice, who stood with their mouths hanging open.

  “Ohhhh,” said Beatrice in awe as Martha bent to get a closer look, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So beautiful.”

  The girls all started talking at once, excited and intrigued by what it could all mean. Just as their voices were getting louder, a cough echoed around the dark room. The girls all jumped, clutching at one another in fright. Goosebumps sprang up along Octavia’s arms.

  “I see you’ve discovered our family’s little secret,” said a voice from the shadows.

  The girls turned as one, expecting to see their stern grandmother, but instead there stood their great-aunt leaning heavily on her gnarled wooden walking stick, Rowan watching beadily from his perch on her shoulder, “It’s a good job that Rowan saw you were on your way up here instead of your grandmother,” she said gruffly. “Oh, don’t look so scared, I won’t tell her; she’s in denial about all this. But she can’t hide from it forever,” she added with a troubled look.

  Gesturing to the striped couch with her walking stick, Great-Aunt Clara said, “Take a seat, girls, for I have a fairy tale to tell you all.” She waited until the girls had sat, Bronwen at their feet, before settling herself upon the window seat, sending up a cloud of dust. It gave her a coughing fit that echoed around the shadowy attic. Rowan leapt from her shoulder with a reproachful look and went to stand sentry by the Fairy Door, washing himself clean.

  “Before I start my tale, I’m curious to know how you discovered the door,” Great-Aunt Clara said.

  “We were playing hide-and-seek and Fliss found me. When she pulled me up, static shot from our hands, and there in the corner was the door,” Octavia explained simply.

  “Of course; the sibling bond. The door doesn’t usually reveal itself to the Key Keeper before they are ten… that must be it,” Great-Aunt Clara mused.

  “Key Keeper?” questioned Octavia. This was getting interesting.

  “I’ll get to that. Now, you know our family, the Blooms, have always lived here. But what you don’t know is why it is so special or why us girls always keep the Bloom name, even if we marry,” Great-Aunt Clara began, her eyes shining as she leant forwards. “Hundreds of years ago, the fairy folk and us humans lived in harmony. But that all changed as humans became scared of magic and anything ‘different’. When it was agreed that the doorway between the human and fairy worlds would have to be closed, our family were tasked with becoming guardians of the door and keepers of the key. The Blooms were descended from a relationship between a fairy prince and a human girl. Their twin daughters were jointly tasked with being the door’s first Guardian and Key Keeper. The twin daughter with fiery hair like her fairy father became the Key Keeper, and her sister with golden locks like her mother became heir to Castle Bloom, and the Guardian to the Fairy Door hidden in its attic.” She paused to let all of this sink in, the girls looking at each other with varying expressions over their faces. Martha’s was of apparent disbelief, but the others turned back in excitement to listen to the rest of the tale.

  Great-Aunt Clara continued, “In every generation, a girl-child is born with the same copper curls and violet-blue eyes. That child upon her tenth birthday becomes the next Key Keeper and her sister – and thanks to the fairy magic she always has one – becomes the Guardian, ready to inherit Castle Bloom when the time comes.” She stopped as Octavia and Felicity turned to look at each other in disbelief.

  “But I have black hair,” Felicity said, unconsciously running a hand over her thick braid.

  “The Guardian’s hair colour is not important – it is the child with the copper curls that can become the Key Keeper. Her sister becomes the Guardian.”

  “But what about us?” Martha interrupted, her indignation at not being given a starring role overriding her disbelief. “We are the eldest.”

  Great-Aunt Clara nodded at Martha’s point and said, “You become Secret Keepers, a very important role that many Blooms have inherited. Only girls in our family know of our history and with what we have been tasked. You will grow up and marry, but will, as tradition dictates, keep the Bloom name. Hopefully, you will have daughters of your own – one of which may become the next Key Keeper.”

  “So, Dad doesn’t know?” Octavia interrupted, wondering how she would ever be able to keep such a big secret as this from her beloved father.

  Great-Aunt Clara looked torn for a moment before answering. “Well, as to that, it just so happens that both your fathers are aware of Fairy Land because of – um – well, um… Never mind about that now,” she finished, looking flustered.

  Octavia frowned but was prevented from asking more as Beatrice, who had been avidly listening, spoke up. “Why did you not marry, Great-Aunt?” she asked.

  “Well, there is more to this tale, and sadly it does not have a happy ending,” Great-Aunt Clara began. She opened her mouth to carry on, but a gasp at the door stopped her.

  “Clara! Girls! What are you doing in here?” Grandmother stood framed in the doorway, a trembling hand pressed to her chest.

  Great-Aunt Clara got guiltily to her feet. Leaning heavily on her walking stick, she turned to face her sister. “Evelyn, they were up here when I arrived… but what are you doing here? I thought you had vowed never to come back to the attic.”

  Shock and something indefinable played across Grandmother’s face. “I thought I heard a noise, so I came to investigate – and it’s a good thing I did. I specifically asked you not to tell the girls anything!” she accused her sister.

  “They had already found the door, Evy; what could I do? Octavia will be ten soon. She would have found out then. They are not babies; we can’t protect them forever,” Great-Aunt Clara said sadly.

  Grandmother stared at the tiny golden door, shining like a miniature star in the corner of the room. Finally tearing her eyes from it, she turned to Great-Aunt Clara.

  “Genevieve will not be happy about this. How much did you tell them?”

  Octavia’s ears pricked at the mention of her mother, but she didn’t dare interrupt this intriguing turn of events.

  “Only the bare bones, but they need to know the rest!” Great-Aunt Clara replied defiantly. Grandmother shook her head.

  “No, I forbid it! Girls, back to bed with you. I need to telephone Genevieve and tell her what a mess you have got us into! Not yet here twenty-four hours, and already you have thrown Castle Bloom into chaos!” Grandmother turned to shepherd the girls from the room.

  “But, Grandmother, we are Blooms too. We should hear the rest of the tale,” Octavia pleaded, planting he
r feet stubbornly on the cold stone floor.

  “This isn’t one of your make-believe games, Octavia, this is real, and I need to speak to your mother and aunt before it gets out of hand… again,” Grandmother said, and clamped her lips firmly closed. Brooking no argument, she led the four bewildered girls firmly from the attic, followed by Bronwen, who looked puzzled by these night-time antics.

  “We will talk in the morning,” Grandmother threw over her shoulder to Great-Aunt Clara, who exchanged a look with Rowan. He tilted his fuzzy head and chattered keenly.

  “Quite right, Rowan, I have indeed done it this time,” Great-Aunt Clara told him as she followed the others from the attic. Casting one last look at the golden door gleaming on the skirting board, she closed the door behind her.

  Octavia waited until Grandmother had left the bedroom before jumping out of bed and running over to slide into Felicity’s.

  “I knew there was something magical about that door!” she whispered excitedly. Bronwen raised her head sleepily from beside the bed, but seeing nothing to interest her, curled up again and was soon dozing.

  Felicity, always the more sensible of the two, bit her lip. “But why is Grandmother so angry, and why does she need to speak to Mum?” she wondered.

  “Oh, probably because Mum, with her copper hair like mine, is the current Key Keeper. She probably wanted to tell us herself,” Octavia said airily, convinced nothing sinister could ever enter the candyfloss-pink world she made her home in.

  Felicity didn’t look convinced, but let it go. “Your feet are freezing! Go back to your own bed,” she said with a shiver.

  Octavia giggled and obligingly went back to her own cosy bed, excited to see what other revelations the morning would bring.

  Octavia was gliding through misty woodland, her long nightgown becoming damp with dew. Will-o’-wisps swirled with glittering fireflies to leave a flickering trail, beckoning her onward. Above the delicate web of branches overhead hung a golden crescent moon in an indigo, star-strewn sky. Octavia trailed her hand through the dandelion clocks, feeling the delicate puffs lift and dance. She smiled, thinking that they looked like fairies with tiny, shimmering wings. Fairies? She shook her head, eyes closed to the vision, but upon opening them the fairies were still there, smiling serenely at her.

  “Come,” they chorused, flying ahead. Octavia followed, her bare feet making no sound on the springy, moss-covered ground. Before long, they came out into a wide clearing; a still, silent pond sat in its centre. Octavia looked at the fairies, who simply pointed at the pond. Octavia tentatively walked toward the edge of the water. She looked down to gaze at her reflection, copper waves hanging loosely around her face, her violet-blue eyes wary.

  With a slight ripple, her reflection changed: a boy was gazing back at her. Copper curls tumbled messily atop a freckled face with the same eyes but with a curious gleam in their depths. He was holding out an opalescent flower which shimmered violet in the moonlight. Shocked, Octavia stepped back.

  “Tavi, don’t go! You need to find me! Find the key and save me!” The boyish plea echoed in her head.

  Whipping around, Octavia looked for the speaker. Seeing no one, she stepped back to the water’s edge. The boy was no longer looking mischievous, but scared.

  “But who are you?” she whispered.

  “You know who I am… Otto,” the voice in her head replied. “Save me, Tavi!” The words echoed around her head. “Tavi, Tavi, Tavi…”

  Octavia awoke with a jump, her heart pounding as she was roughly shaken. Felicity stood next to her bed, white-faced and shivering.

  “You were having a nightmare! You kept shouting that you have to save Otto. Who’s Otto?”

  Octavia took a few calming breaths and sat up, looking around. For a moment she didn’t recognise the circular tower room with sea-green bed curtains and wide arched windows, where a crescent moon could be glimpsed suspended in the cloudless sky.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured, “but it sounds familiar, like I should know.” Octavia looked up at Felicity, who was watching her with a worried look on her face.

  “Try to go back to sleep,” Felicity said finally, turning to go back to her own bed and closing her rose-pink curtains against the night’s chill.

  Bronwen jumped up beside Octavia comfortingly as she lay back down on her side and gazed up at the moon. Was it a dream? I’m sure I’ve heard the name Otto before.

  Unbidden, a memory flashed through her mind. A few months ago, she hadn’t been able to sleep and had been going downstairs to get a glass of water when urgent voices had stopped her. She listened for a little longer, and realised that her mother was crying, and her father was trying to comfort her. Taking care to miss the creaky step, Octavia slowly sat down on the stairs in surprise. The idea of her usually strong mother brought to tears filled her with an uneasy feeling. She listened to her parents’ conversation, worriedly nibbling on her lower lip.

  “Kit, we have to help Otto. He doesn’t have much time left,” Mum was sobbing. Through the open living-room door, Octavia could see her curled up on the squishy armchair in the corner of the room.

  Dad was pacing, running his hands through his thick, black hair. “We’re close, Genny, I can feel it. We need two more flowers and we’ll have the cure. We have to have faith we will find them!” He stopped pacing and bent to kneel at Mum’s side.

  Octavia strained to hear her mother’s reply and leant forward, unintentionally pressing on the creaky step. She froze for a second at the noise before quickly tiptoeing back to her room, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. Just as she drew the covers over herself and closed her eyes, her door silently opened and, after a few breathless moments, closed again.

  The next morning, she had forgotten about the strange scene she had witnessed and had thought no more about it until now. Determined not to forget this time, she resolved to find out who this mysterious boy who looked like her was.

  Chapter Three

  The Calm before the Storm

  Octavia’s elbow slipped off the table as she struggled to prop herself up. Stifling a yawn, she reached for a slice of buttered toast.

  “I am not surprised you are tired this morning, what with all the gallivanting you girls got up to last night. I am most disappointed in you; especially you, Martha and Beatrice – as the eldest you should be setting a better example. I had strictly forbidden you to enter the attic!” Grandmother sniffed, picking up her paper-thin china teacup.

  “We are very sorry, Grandmother,” said Martha, casting a furious sideways look at Octavia, who was once again staring off into space, oblivious to Grandmother’s disappointment.

  “Well, be that as it may, we will speak no more about it for now. I am expecting to hear back from your mother today, Felicity and Octavia. I left a message, but your parents are extremely difficult to get hold of when they are in the field,” Grandmother said as she absentmindedly toyed with her gold charm bracelet. The tinkling brought Octavia out of her daydream.

  “Can I speak to Mum?” Octavia, forgetting her tiredness, asked with an expectant smile. “There is so much I want to ask her!”

  Grandmother pursed her lips. “I think it best if only I speak to her. We don’t want to worry her unnecessarily when she is so far away.”

  Octavia slumped in disappointment. “May I be excused, please, Grandmother?” she asked in a small voice.

  Grandmother nodded, and Octavia dejectedly walked from the room, followed by a prancing Bronwen who must have thought Octavia was headed for the kitchen. This summer holiday wasn’t turning out the way Octavia had hoped. She longed for adventure, and had really thought she was on the verge of one. But no, it had been snatched away from her before it had even begun!

  On autopilot, she found her feet taking her back to the attic. She stared up the steps at the closed wooden door, debating whether to go in, when a noise stopped her. Turning around, she saw Rowan sitting on the window ledge opposite, nibbling on a bright red apple.
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  “Oh, hello, Rowan.” Octavia didn’t expect a reply, and was startled when the squirrel stopped nibbling and gave her a wink.

  Of course he didn’t wink. Squirrels didn’t wink, did they? Octavia thought and shook her head, the sleepless night must be catching up with her. Turning from the attic, she decided that curling up with a good book would be a wise way to pass the time.

  A ringing awoke Octavia with a jump; the book she had been reading slid from her lap onto the library floor. She could hear a voice coming from Grandmother’s sitting room. Tiptoeing over to the door, which was slightly ajar, Octavia listened but caught only mumbled words at first. Grandmother’s voice become more distinct as she came closer to the door, taking a turn around the room as she talked.

  “All right, dear, I will expect you tonight. What time will you be here? Oh, that late? Very well; we can discuss everything then. Goodbye.”

  In the silence that followed, Octavia crept back to her fallen book. Who was Grandmother talking to? I hope it was Mum, she thought. She hadn’t seen either of her parents for nearly five weeks and was really missing them.

  Octavia hid behind a bookshelf as Grandmother’s door opened. Peeping through the gap, she watched as Grandmother left the library and headed out into the entrance hall. It looked like another midnight investigation would be on tonight’s agenda. She had to see if it was her mother who would be arriving tonight.

  At dinner, Octavia was on her best behaviour. She ate her roast beef, potatoes and vegetables with no argument. Grandmother was still not in a good mood, and Great-Aunt Clara kept throwing troubled looks in her direction. Even Rowan could obviously sense a tension in the air as he cowered on Great-Aunt Clara’s shoulder.

  “May I show you my latest drawings, Grandmother? I captured some lovely scenes today along the coast. It was such a beautiful day with the wind whipping the waves up.” Martha was desperately trying to get back into Grandmother’s good graces and had been simpering and trying to please her since they’d sat down. Beatrice exchanged a grimace with Octavia, who tried hard to stifle a giggle. Felicity nudged Octavia hard in the ribs, which only caused her to draw more attention to herself.