by Robin Trent
"Is that all?" Helen was ready to shut the door but was interrupted.
"Here now, what's this all about?" Nikolai spoke from behind Helen and reached around to open the door further so he could be seen.
"Mr. Merkova, I presume? I had heard that you returned from your travels." Pastor Poole looked pleased.
"Yes, I did. And you are?" Nikolai felt a little annoyed at the man's familiarity.
"Oh, forgive me. We haven't been properly introduced. I am Kristopher Poole, the local pastor." Poole extended his hand and Nikolai reluctantly shook it.
"Well Pastor, forgive me, but we are a bit preoccupied here. It is not a good time for a visit." Nikolai was aiming to be polite.
"So terribly sorry. I was just explaining to Mrs. Barker that there was a bit of a commotion in town, but there is nothing to worry about. It's all been handled." Poole was oblivious to the anxiety he was causing the house's occupants.
"Commotion? What kind of commotion?" Nikolai was beginning to lean forward.
"Nikolai, you're tired from your trip. Maybe you should go inside." Helen was trying to usher Nikolai back in the house, but it wasn't working. Nikolai stood firm.
"There is a parishioner who was making untoward accusations, but I believe it is dealt with now. I just wanted to reassure Eliz - I mean Mrs. Merkova - that everything is fine now," Pastor Poole said.
"What accusations?" Nikolai was beginning to feel like a parrot, but he was playing catch up.
Pastor Poole didn't like the look in Nikolai's eyes. "Ah, well, you'll hear about it from someone eventually, I guess it might as well be me." Poole paused, took a deep breath, and then said the word as fast as he could. "Witchcraft."
"Excuse me? I didn't quite understand you." Nikolai stared intently at the pastor.
"Witchcraft," Pastor Poole said, slower this time. "The accusation is witchcraft."
"Oh, for bloody hell. Good day Pastor Poole," Nikolai said as he slammed the door shut.
Once again, Pastor Poole found himself alone on the doorstep. That news was not received well. Not that he should expect it to be. Now that unpleasantness was done, he felt better. There was a man at home in the Merkova household, and now everything would be handled. The pastor abdicated any responsibility he may have felt and left it with Nikolai.
The door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Nikolai stood in the entryway staring into space. Helen approached, trying to soothe his anger, and Nikolai rebuffed her. "Helen, I blame you for this. You should never have come. The way you tormented Elizabeth as a child, having you here has brought it all back. I want you to leave as soon as possible." Nikolai turned away from an open-mouthed Helen.
He walked into the study and closed the doors behind him. Nikolai needed time to think. He grabbed his pipe, tapped it out in the fireplace, refilled the bowl, and lit it. He sat down in his favorite overstuffed chair and stared at the fire. Nikolai sincerely felt the world had gone mad. His wife believed in faeries, and the townsfolk thought she was a witch. What next? This needed to be nipped in the bud right now. Or had things already gone too far? He should never have left.
Nikolai knew that personal recrimination was not helping things. He felt estranged from his wife as if he never really knew her. She had never mentioned time in an asylum. Even if she thought it was a revenge tactic of her mother's, she still should have told him. Part of him felt duped. Part of him was anxious about his wife. He still loved her, he knew that. But what if she couldn't be trusted with the children? Was his wife insane?
26
Strakx had been sitting in the trees keeping watch on the Merkova house for a week now, and he was positively bored. Not much had been going on, just the usual comings and goings. The only amusement Strakx had was watching the unsuspecting walk up to the house, thinking that they were still dealing with Titwell's wards. Some had zapped into oblivion. Served them right for testing someone else's wards like that. Rhys had been true to his word. He had strengthened the wards the night he visited the changeling, and no one except Titwell could make it behind them.
The nightmare had stopped by and tried to get back in. Spryth left grumbling to himself about Rhys interfering and how it wasn't right to spoil everyone's fun. Near as Strakx could tell, the mere fact that the Seelie queen had shown an interest in this particular house caused all the Unseelie to stop by wanting to agitate. It's a wonder the human occupants hadn't been driven mad with all the supernatural visitations going on.
He could hear the sounds of men and dogs in the distance. Strakx was glad he was up in the tree and blended in with the tree bark. On the ground below, he saw the pack of wolves that had been following Maeve. Some sat down, others milled about. Strakx watched them and began to feel anxious. Why weren't they leaving? Didn't they hear the men and the dogs getting ready to go hunting? They are wolves, they should know better. Oh, what did Maeve do to them? They're not supposed to be bloody pets.
Strakx shimmied down the tree trunk and dropped to the ground. The wolves turned around and looked at him with curiosity. "Run," Strakx said. The wolves continued to stare. One stood up, tongue lolling to the side. Strakx walked over and patted it on the head. The wolf whined and nudged his hand like it wanted more attention. Oh, good grief. Strakx petted the wolf, and as he did, he got a whiff of something off its fur and a little green shimmer. Magic. He smelled magic. Of course. She had been walking around with a pack of wild wolves, and they had been docilely following her without question.
Strakx shoved on the wolf. "You. Need. To leave. Now," Strakx said. The wolf wouldn't budge. Strakx gave up struggling, but he didn't want them to just get slaughtered. The phouka didn't have any spell to counteract something Maeve had done, but he needed to try. Strakx picked up a stick and threw it. Sure enough, the wolves ran after it. He ran with the wolves, and when he got to the stick, he picked it up and threw it again. The men and dogs were getting closer. Strakx threw the stick a few more times, and then he stopped. This was going to take forever.
There was only one other thing Strakx could think of, so he transformed into a large black dog with yellow eyes. The wolves came up and milled around, some sniffing his butt. Strakx took off, running as fast as he could. He looked behind, and the wolves weren't following. He stopped, stretched his legs out in front of him, lowering his head to the ground, and wagged his tail. The universal dog language for I want to play. The wolves responded and came running--all but one. One of the wolves kept looking back to where they had been sitting; probably wanted Maeve. Strakx barked. Hesitantly, the wolf looked at him and looked back. Losing interest in Strakx, the other wolves looked at each other and sat down. Strakx could hear the men entering the woods.
Barking at the wolves to get their attention, he took off again, and this time they followed. Strakx ran and ran. They seemed to be putting a fair amount of distance between them. That was when he heard the gunshot, and a wolf yelped. The wolf that was hesitant hadn't followed them. Some of the wolves had stopped at the sound. They looked like they would go back to see about their companion. Strakx barked again. They had to keep moving. He got behind them and nudged them to move. They didn't seem to want to go, but he herded them. He took off at an all-out sprint and could hear the wolves behind him. Most were following.
He heard more gunshots and then another yelp. He didn't want to lose any more of the pack. He didn't bother to stop; he just kept running. He didn't know if Rhys could do it, but they needed to remove the spell on the wolves so they would be wild again. He ran for their spot, the knoll. Strakx hoped Rhys would be there. He needed him to be there.
Fluffy white clouds passed overhead, trailing their shadows over the ground. It was a sunny day, but chilly. Rhys was sitting beside the cairn talking to his dead wife as he often did, asking her advice. The queen had given him an order. It was an order made out of spite, but it was still an order.
"Brianna, I've killed in battle. I've even found it fun. But this one. This one doesn't feel right." Rhys stared at the p
ile of rocks and realized how ridiculous he sounded. He sat quietly for a moment and heard a baying in the distance. There must be hunters in the forest. He stood up, brushed the grass from his pants, and looked down into the trees to see his friend running with a pack of wolves. Well, that's a sight you don't see every day. Strakx wasn't just running with the wolves for fun. He was running at an all-out breakneck speed, and he was heading straight for Rhys.
The wolves reached the top of the knoll and slowed down, collapsing in the tall grass. Strakx was out of breath as he transformed back into his normal guise. Everybody was lying around panting, and Rhys took in the sight. "Okay. You want to tell me what's going on?"
"Rhys, hunters in the woods." Strakx was still trying to catch his breath.
"I gathered that," Rhys said.
"These wolves are what they are hunting." Strakx gasped for more air. "The wolves are magicked by Maeve. They won't run away from danger." Strakx sat down on a log and wearily pointed at the wolves. "Do you think you can fix it?"
Rhys frowned. The queen's magic may be hard to remove. Then again, she may have used an ordinary charming spell. Rhys was only guessing. "Without knowing exactly what spell she used, it could be hard to undo."
Baying off in the distance and more gunshots. Who knows what the hunters were firing at now. "Rhys, could you hurry up?" Strakx looked worried.
Rhys knelt in the grass. The wolves were all lying down. The best he could do was ground the energy and see if he could disperse the spell. Rhys laid his hands upon the ground and called forth the earth's energy. He molded it with his intention, and purple energy flowed from his hand to underneath the resting wolves. The energy traveled from the ground up over the wolves to grab whatever magic was there and drain it into the earth. The purple energy blended with green energy and green energy flowed back into the ground. Rhys continued to do this until all the energy running was purple.
As Rhys stood, so did the wolves. Gone were the docile, domesticated canines, and in their place were ordinary, if feral, wolves. The wolves looked confused and backed away from Rhys and Strakx. They bared their teeth and growled. Rhys and Strakx remained perfectly still until the leader took off down the hill, and the rest followed.
"Well, I guess I did my good deed for the day." Rhys smiled.
"They'll be fine now. Hunters won't get them. As it is, I am pretty sure two have been killed. Downright shame." Strakx shook his head.
"Maeve again. Queens. They don't think about the cost of what they do, do they?" Rhys said.
Strakx got up and walked over to a hollow tree stump. He reached inside and pulled out the red journal. "I believe this belongs to you."
27
Nikolai's head pounded from too much brandy and cigars. His mouth was pasty, and his skin felt sticky from sweat after sitting next to the fireplace all night. The air in the room had gone stale, and he felt like he needed some fresh air. He rose from his chair and opened the drawing-room doors. The bright light caused his eyes to burn and his head to pound harder as he raised his hands before his face to block out the early morning sun. He stepped out onto the front porch and breathed in the fresh morning air, letting it fill his lungs and clean the cobwebs out of his brain.
He'd spent the night drinking and smoking and pondering this ridiculous situation. In typical British fashion, Nikolai finally realized he needed to quit feeling sorry for himself and address the issues at hand. Chin up, old boy, as Henry would say. A common-sense approach was needed.
John Barlow came around the corner of the house, surprised to see Nikolai out on the porch. "Good morning, Mister Merkova," John said as he tipped his work hat in greeting.
Nikolai perked up and said, "Good morning, John. Would you be so kind as to ready the carriage? I need to go into town this morning."
John nodded in agreement. "Right away, sir."
Nikolai went back in the house and off to the washroom to freshen up. After doing his morning ablutions, he went into his bedroom to kiss his wife good morning. Elizabeth was still asleep and looked like she had a restless night. Guilt settled in on Nikolai as he realized he needed to be more sympathetic to his wife's plight. He decided it was best not to wake her, and he slipped back out of the bedroom after grabbing his vest and coat. He reached the bottom of the stairs and put on the rest of his clothes as Rebecca came out of the kitchen.
"Will you be having breakfast this morning, sir?" Rebecca inquired.
"No, Rebecca. I need to go to town on urgent business. I will eat when I get back," Nikolai said. He wanted to get this over with. The carriage was waiting for him as he had requested, and John greeted him by opening the door for him. "We are going to Dr. Barrett's this morning, John."
John bobbed his head in understanding. He had expected as much.
Rhys had been walking in the forest, thinking about Maeve's orders. His thoughts and wanderings had led him straight to the Merkova property. Strakx was no longer on duty. After the episode with the wolves, he was too upset to sit still. The phouka felt responsible for not being able to save all of them. Strakx had a big heart and was easily wounded. He tried to play it tough, but Rhys knew him better than that.
Rhys stood in the trees, watching the sunlight dapple the colorful leaves. Patches of blue sky filtered through the canopy. It was a perfect fall day, but Rhys did not feel at peace. Things had grown complicated. It was not in Rhys' makeup to tolerate being ordered about like some lackey. It rubbed him the wrong way and caused an innate need to rebel. He slapped the bright orange leaves swirling in the wind with his hand. Damn Maeve. Always meddling. He hated politics for that very reason.
The caretaker came around from the front looking like he was on a mission. The man went into the carriage house and pulled the carriage outside, and then went to retrieve the horse. Someone must be going somewhere. The Merkova's carriage was small. It could almost be called a buggy, but it was enclosed and could seat four comfortably. Rhys knew that people with lots of money had very large carriages. He figured Nikolai didn't have an extravagant lifestyle after meeting him in Egypt. Apparently, he had been right.
Thoughts of Nikolai made him wonder how the archaeologist was doing. In fact, shouldn't he be home by now? Rhys very quietly moved through the woods around to the front of the house. He wanted to see who was leaving. Before long, he had his answer. So Nikolai had made it home finally. Human means of travel was always slow. Speaking of which, he wondered where old Nikki was going right now. Rhys made up his mind to follow. After all, he had nothing better to do but kill Nikolai's wife.
The ride into town was quick and smooth. By carriage, it only took about half an hour. Nikolai was feeling pensive, and his head still pounded. Maybe the doctor would have something to help his hangover. All the jostling about in the carriage hadn't helped his mood or his physical state by the time they arrived on Dr. Barrett's doorstep.
A quick rap on the door was all that was needed. The maid had answered promptly and shown Nikolai inside the warm and spacious drawing room the doctor had set up as a waiting room for his patients. The doctor's office was in the front of his home, and Nikolai imagined this waiting room probably converted right back to a drawing-room in his off-hours. He didn't have long to wait, and Dr. Barrett came in to shake his hand in short order.
"Good morning, Doctor. I am so sorry to bother you without an appointment, but I couldn't wait. I need to discuss something very private and personal," Nikolai said.
"No need to explain. I expected you would be here sooner or later. Let's step into my office, where we can have some privacy for a bit. Mildred, no interruptions," Dr. Barrett instructed his maid, and she curtsied in reply.
Shutting the door behind them, Dr. Barrett wasted no time giving his opinion on Nikolai's state. "First off, how are you? I know you just got back from traveling, but I'm sure you've looked better." Dr. Barrett peered over the rim of his glasses and smiled.
"Yes, I suppose I do look a bit under the weather. But it's nothing that isn't
self-induced. Too much brandy and cigars last night, I'm afraid," Nikolai said.
Dr. Barrett walked over to his cabinet, pulled out a bottle of laudanum, and put a small amount in a cup. He also added tea from the teapot and honey to cover up the taste and gave that to Nikolai to sip on while they talked. It wasn't long before Nikolai's headache abated.
"Now, I take it you are here because of your wife," the doctor said.
"I need your medical opinion, Dr. Barrett. Elizabeth's mother, Helen, is pushing for my wife to be committed to an asylum." Nikolai took a deep breath. That admission actually hurt. "I will not do anything to harm my wife. I will respect a sound medical opinion, not gossip and speculation."
"Is there anything that I need to know? I mean, has anything changed since the last time I saw her?" Dr. Barrett asked.
"Her mother claims she tried to kill one of the children, twice. Her fixation only seems to be Euphemia. I want a logical explanation, Doctor. There must be something that makes sense, something that can be done." Nikolai sounded all the more pathetic to his own ears.
Dr. Barrett sat on the edge of his desk and lit his pipe. He puffed on it as he thought about the situation. "I will see her, but you must prepare yourself for the worst. It could be that it is just some simple malady that happens on occasion to women after childbirth. I have heard of women having hallucinations. It all depends on the woman and how hard the birth was. On the other hand, I believe that your wife was in an asylum once before?" Dr. Barrett paused, waiting for a reply.
Nikolai was so distraught, it took a moment for him to realize Dr. Barrett had stopped talking. "Hmmm? Oh. Sorry doctor. Yes, her mother put her in one as a young girl, but I think it was more for punishment than illness."
"Well, it could be a relapse." Dr. Barrett continued. "The only way to tell is for me to talk to her. I can come by later today, perhaps? If Elizabeth will be available, of course."