The Curious Curse of Faerywood Falls

by Blythe Baker

  She turned back to me. “Well, anyways, dear, I just came by to inspect your water heater. I’ve already had to fix three others that have stopped working. This used to be Jim’s job, and doesn’t he know that I don’t take kindly to him having up and died on me, leaving me all this work to do by myself?”

  “Sure, no problem,” I said, standing aside to let her in.

  “It shouldn’t take but a minute,” she said. “Your unit was installed at the same time as some of the others, and – Jim, no, its fine. I’m not going to buy a brand new one if this one still works perfectly well. No, let’s see what the damage is first, and then we’ll look, okay? Sorry, dear. He can’t help but interrupt sometimes.”

  She wandered over to the only closet beside the bathroom, pulled the sliding door open and knelt down beside the little water heater.

  “I know, Jim, just let me be,” Mrs. Bickford said as she leaned into the closet, her voice muffled by the walls.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention and I saw Athena peeking her nose out from under the blankets.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I hurried over to sit on the bed. I pulled the blankets up over her just as Mrs. Bickford knelt backward to peer around the corner to look at me.

  “Seems to be running okay, dearie, but we might need to replace it in a month or two. How’s your hot water been? Has it had any funny smells or sputtering?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed,” I said, pinning the blanket in place.

  Athena wiggled a little underneath it.

  “Alright then. Just let me – no, Jim, unlike some of the other tourists visiting, I trust Marianne to tell me the truth,” Mrs. Bickford said, disappearing back around the corner.

  “What’s wrong?” I hissed, leaning down toward the blanket.

  You’re holding my tail, Athena said.

  I loosened my grip on the blanket, and I felt something slip out from between my fingers.

  “So, Mrs. Bickford,” I said, watching as Athena readjusted herself for a moment before settling down again. “It looks like your cabins are almost all booked up.”

  “Yes, yes, the busy season has arrived,” she said, her voice still muffled by the closet. I heard a clang as the wrench in her hand struck the side of the metal tank on accident. “And I’m less and less prepared for it every year. So far, I’ve had noise complaints at night, garbage littering the grill areas, and one family who seemed to think I was born yesterday because they have been trying to tell me that their Chihuahua is a service dog. Pardon me, an “emotional support” animal. What forty-year-old woman needs an emotional support dog? Just deal with life like the rest of us.”

  “Well, at least it keeps life interesting, right?” I asked.

  “Hardly,” Mrs. Bickford said. “It’s enough to drive me batty. The only story that seemed halfway interesting to me was a couple a few nights ago that claimed to have seen a violent ghost while hiking. Now, I certainly believe in ghosts, but a violent one? Something awful happened in their life to make them return like that.”

  “I overheard something about that, too,” I said.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that Faerywood Falls was put on the map as a haunted place. To be honest, it’s part of what draws people here year after year. They like – Jim, please, I’m trying to have a conversation here. Sorry. They like the mystery of the mountains and the feeling in the atmosphere when they’re here. It’s understandable, really.”

  She backed up out of the closet, rose to her feet, and brushed off her knees.

  “Alright, well it looks like it’s holding on for now. You let me know as soon as anything changes, okay?” she asked, turning back toward the door.

  “Yeah, no problem,” I said, getting up to walk with her to the door.

  Mrs. Bickford smiled at me. “And I’m sorry about bothering you like this. I know you’ve been busy lately with helping Abe get the store up and running again.”

  “It’s been good,” I said. “I’m enjoying the work.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she said. She pulled the door open and stepped out onto the porch. “Alright, well if you need anything, just give me a holler. No, Jim, I don’t mean an actual holler. Of course not. We’d have even more complaints from the guests about – ”

  She’d taken a step down the stairs, but the heel of her boot missed the step below it, as her eyes were fixed on something down on the ground.

  My heart leapt into my throat as I launched myself across the distance between us. I reached out and grabbed onto her hand, pulling her back onto the steps.

  There was a rush of heat through my body, but the adrenaline was pumping so hard that I hardly noticed it.

  Both of us panting, we looked at one another.

  “Well, goodness me,” she said, clutching at her chest. “I almost had quite the tumble there, didn’t I?”

  “Are you okay?” I asked her, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

  “Fine, dear, fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “My, that could’ve been quite the disaster. Who knows, maybe I could’ve joined you, Jim.”

  She looked down the steps.

  “Jim?” she asked.

  My jaw dropped. Where there had been nothing down on the ground a moment before, a man stared up at Mrs. Bickford.

  Well, not a man, exactly. It was more like a holographic projection on the ground. The man was standing there, but I could see straight through him to the lake beyond. And he had no color to him at all. He was varying shades of blue and grey and looked as if he was made of mist or smoke instead of flesh.

  He was probably handsome in his youth. His head was bald and he had a long face, a tall forehead, and gangly limbs.

  “Jim, where’d you go?” Mrs. Bickford asked, looking around. She clamped her fists on her hips. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. That man just does what he pleases. The same as he did in life.”

  “Mrs. Bickford,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears. “Was he…standing right there?” I asked, pointing down at the man on the ground.

  “Why, yes, dear, he was, but…” She looked down at the ground, and then back at me. “Are you telling me that you can see him now?”

  My heart hammered so hard against my ribs that I worried it might burst. I swallowed hard and looked back at her.

  I’d stolen her gift. Completely on accident, I’d stolen her gift. Just like with that woman in the convenience store when I first got to Faerywood Falls.

  “I can see him, yeah,” I said.

  “Describe him,” Mrs. Bickford said, her eyes narrowing.

  I did.

  “But what happened?” she asked, worry creasing her face. “Why can’t I see him, but you can?”

  I grabbed onto the railing beside me for support. “Mrs. Bickford, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I – ” I choked on the word. She didn’t have any idea that I knew anything about the magic in Faerywood Falls. “I think I stole your gift.”

  “You what?” she asked. “How did you – ”

  “I don’t know, I have no idea,” I said, holding up my hands defensively. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to – ”

  “You mean to tell me that you’ve taken my ability to see my husband away from me?” she asked, color flooding her cheeks, her voice rising. “Well, then give it back to me. Now.”

  “I can’t – ” I said, taking a step back up the stairs, nearly falling over backward myself. “I mean, I don’t know how.”

  Mrs. Bickford threw her hands up in the air. “That’s it, then. The only comfort I’ve had since Jim’s death, ripped from me by some nobody who shows up in town.”

  “Mrs. Bickford, I’m so, so sorry,” I said. “If I knew how, I’d give it back to you – ”

  “Then you’d best figure out a way, missy,” Mrs. Bickford snapped, pointing a thin, bony finger toward me. Her eyes were scrunched up and her face set in a frown. “Because you had no right to do that to me. No right at all.”

  “I didn’t
mean to,” I said. “It was an accident, I promise – ”

  Mrs. Bickford glowered at me before stomping down the stairs. Her hands were balled into fists.

  I watched her as she disappeared behind a tree beside her own cabin. Just before she vanished from my view, her head fell into her hands and I could just make out her sobs.

  My stomach twisted into painful knots, and I sank down onto the porch steps. Guilt writhed inside me, and tears stung my own eyes.

  I looked up and saw Mr. Bickford still standing there. His eyes were fixed on me, now, and he looked none too pleased.

  He didn’t say anything. He just glared at me before slowly turning to follow after his wife, sullen and distressed.

  I exhaled heavily, shaking my head.

  “What have I done?” I asked, staring down at my own hands. “Why does this keep happening to me?”

  I heard Mrs. Bickford’s front door slam shut, and I winced.

  She had every reason to be angry. But there was no way that she was angrier with me than I was with myself.

  5

  “There’s got to be a way,” I said. “Otherwise I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life not touching anyone. Or wearing gloves, because I can’t predict when it will happen and when it won’t. And that seems like a miserable existence.”

  I’d grabbed Athena and together, we headed up to the lodge to see my aunt and cousin. The guilt was torture, and I couldn’t bear to sit alone while this new problem bounced around in my head.

  At the lodge, Bliss was sitting on the long, leather couch, and Aunt Candace was standing beside the coffee table as I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. It was sitting cool and empty. The temperature had reached an almost record high, and everyone was running for the shops and lodgings with air conditioning. The lake in the distance was dotted with boats and kayaks as people enjoyed their vacations, completely unaware of the turmoil I was feeling and the guilt that I wrestled with.

  “Well, we’ve already answered one of my questions,” Bliss said. “You obviously don’t lose the other gifts you’ve stolen when you steal someone else’s, right? You can still speak with Athena?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Now I have two abilities. But the problem is, I don’t want the ability to see ghosts. I want to give that one back to Mrs. Bickford.”

  “I understand that you’re troubled, sweetheart, but what can we do to help?” Aunt Candace asked. “I certainly can’t do anything, and Bliss has already told you she can’t reverse it.”

  “We don’t even really know how your power works,” Bliss said. “Or if you even can give it back.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be able to give a gift back if I can take it in the first place?” I asked.

  Bliss shrugged. “Girl, I have no idea. Notta one. How could I? Like I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m just – ”

  “An apprentice, I know,” I said.

  With a heavy sigh, I collapsed into one of the wing-back armchairs beside the fireplace.

  “There’s got to be someone who can help me,” I said, my mind whirling.

  “I don’t know who,” Bliss said. “You’re the only faery around here.”

  I rubbed my face, my eyelids heavy. I glanced over at Athena, who was curled up beside Bliss. One of the fox’s eyes was open and looking at me, her nose tucked underneath her tail.

  “I’m thankful that I can talk to Athena. At this point, I can’t even imagine not having the ability to speak with her now. She’s been an amazing friend to me, and I want to make sure I can keep that,” I said.

  “No one has said anything about having to give that gift up,” Aunt Candace said.

  “I know,” I said. “But the fact still stands that I stole it. It wasn’t mine to take.”

  “It wasn’t like you did it on purpose,” Bliss said. “And the same goes for Mrs. Bickford’s gift.”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “So does this mean that none of the spell weavers would be able to help me?”

  Bliss pursed her lips. “I don’t know, honestly. I guess maybe a few of them could – ”

  “Absolutely not,” Aunt Candace said, her face suddenly serious.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because that would mean revealing your secret to someone else,” Aunt Candace said. “Don’t you remember what we told you? If it was to get out that you are a faery, then who knows what sort of danger you’d be in.”

  “But I can’t just sit around and hope that somehow, someway, I find out how to control and use my gifts,” I said. I puffed out my cheeks. “If only I had that stupid book that Silvia Griffin took…”

  “That’s funny, because she probably would’ve been one of the ones who’d be able to help you,” Bliss said.

  “Bliss!” Aunt Candace scolded.

  “I’m serious,” Bliss said defensively. “I know it’s not a pleasant idea, but she could’ve helped.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, because she’s gone,” Aunt Candace said with relief, nodding sharply.

  “On the other hand…” Bliss said. “I do agree with Mom. You shouldn’t be telling anyone that you’re a faery. It’s already risky that you told Mrs. Bickford you stole her gift. If she talks to any of the ghost speakers she knows, especially those who like to gossip like she does, then your secret may not stay that way for very long.”

  Her words hit me like a two-by-four upside the head. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “You were frightened,” Aunt Candace said. “No one can fault you for that.”

  “No, but you definitely might end up regretting it,” Bliss said.

  I groaned, my head falling back against the chair. “I’m such an idiot…” I said.

  “Oh, stop it,” Aunt Candace said. “You’re not an idiot.”

  “I’m serious about that book, though,” I said. “I was able to use it. Not well, but maybe it could’ve helped me to figure out what my abilities are.”

  “It would probably be better than seeking out the help of the spell weavers,” Bliss said. “I might trust them with my own life, but I wouldn’t trust them with yours.”

  I smiled at her, her sentiment warming me. “Thanks, Bliss.”

  She smirked, and shrugged, her oversized sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder. “Don’t mention it.”

  “So I guess for now you just learn to live with the ability to see ghosts,” Aunt Candace said. “Until you can find that book or another like it.”

  “Yeah, maybe another one will come through the antique shop,” Bliss said brightly. “You never know. Mr. Cromwell gets some weird things, and you’d have the first pick, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess,” I said. “But who knows when another book like that would come through? Silvia was so desperate to have it that she killed someone who saw her break in and steal it.” I sighed. “My guess is that another magic book won’t exactly waltz up to the front door and ask me to take it home.”

  Bliss deflated a little. “Well, it’s worth a shot.”

  “If something like that was to happen, and I do mean if,” I said. “It could be months. Or years. And Mrs. Bickford is angry at me now. Can you imagine what the next few months will be like? I stole her ability to see and speak with her husband. And he’s not exactly pleased as pie with me, either.”

  Aunt Candace frowned, and Bliss huffed.

  “They can’t hold a grudge forever,” Bliss said.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Aunt Candace said.

  Both Bliss and I turned to look at her.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The man who owned the lodge before we bought it was named Phillip Collins. He was well respected in the community and brought a lot of tourism to the area, increasing the economy,” Aunt Candace said. “Mr. and Mrs. Bickford, however, didn’t like that someone else set up shop along their lake. For a long time. Mrs. Bickford thought that he was purposely trying to draw business away from their cabins, when in fact his business doubled the pro
fits for both. But what put the final nail in his coffin was when he went to her, asking if she’d be willing to sell the land their cabins were on so he could turn it into a golf resort.”

  She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, looking around the vaulted room.

  “They had it out. Publicly. Mrs. Bickford refused, but it didn’t stop there. She took it all the way to the city council and complained. She was relentless, even after he agreed to drop the whole matter. She was bitter and mean about the whole thing. From what I’ve heard, the endless jabs became too much for him, hurt his business, and so he was forced to sell.”

  “Wow, I had no idea, Mom,” Bliss said, looking up at her mother.

  Aunt Candace shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve not had a problem with her at all since taking over the lodge. In fact, I’ve gone to her when I needed advice, which she’s all too happy to give. I’d never dream of trying to buy her out. It’s too big of a project, and the lodge does just fine on its own. And after her husband died, she’s kind of withdrawn. I hardly ever see her anymore.”

  “How did her husband die?” I asked.

  Aunt Candace sighed. “It was really rather tragic, if I’m honest. It was quite a few years ago, now… Five? Maybe six? Anyway, he was healthy as a horse, all things considered. He hardly ate, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink. Devoted to his wife and his business. But only a few weeks after turning seventy-two, they discovered he had cancer.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, my heart sinking.

  Aunt Candace nodded. “Yes, it’s very sad. He went downhill rather quickly. By the time they found out, it was too late to operate. He died not long after.”

  “That’s so sad,” I said. “No wonder Mrs. Bickford was so angry with me for taking her gift.”

  “I don’t think she knew about her gift until after he passed,” Bliss said. “And honestly, I don’t think she really knows much about the rest of the Gifted people in town. All she’s really ever cared about is seeing her husband. Says it was a miracle.”

  “I guess it really was,” I said. I scrubbed at my cheeks with my palms. “Oh, now I just feel even worse…”