Burned to a Crisp

by K A Miltimore

  “So she was a witch? And did she really try to eat the children?” Mel felt her skin go cold at the thought. And this woman is a baker? What on earth does she bake?

  Hedy laughed. “She may have been a witch, but she never tried to eat those kids, or at least I like to think that she didn’t. As stories often do, they change over time. When the Grimms decided to write their fables, they took legend and lore and made it suit their purposes. It was a better story to make it about an evil hag who had a gingerbread house to lure children, then a story about parents who abandoned their children.”

  Hedy led Mel back toward the sunroom and the smell of the baking pies. She could tell by the girl’s expression that she wasn’t so sure she believed Hedy and that made Hedy smile to herself.

  “Well, enough of dark stories on such a day. I have cookies to bake. You are welcome to look around the entry at the other curiosities. There is a gate at the end of the hall though, please don’t go upstairs. That is reserved for my guests.” Hedy said in a pleasant voice, resuming her work behind the counter.

  “Oh, you have guests that stay here as well? Is this some kind of B&B?” Mel returned to her coffee and took a sip. No, nothing tasted funny. She didn’t want to wind up in a cage in the basement.

  “Yes, now and then I have guests who stay with me. I suppose you could call it a B&B of sorts. It’s a select group of visitors, people who might be considered eccentric. I have one coming tonight as a matter of fact and I’m sure he doesn’t eat children, if that is still on your mind.” Hedy laughed to see the girl’s face blanch. “Go on, finish your breakfast. Maybe I’ll tell you the secret ingredient after you're done.” Hedy laughed again and headed back to her pies.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As the morning became afternoon, customers came and went in a slow but steady trickle, buying pies and cookies, muffins and brownies. Hedy knew most of them. The shop had only been open since the spring and it had been a slow start to business but Hedy was fine with that. She wasn’t looking for a throng of people at her door; she was happier with interesting customers rather than a crush of people, and after all, the shop was only her secondary concern.

  Maurice had not returned since he stormed out earlier and she made a mental note to seek him out before the afternoon turned to evening. His nose was probably in his book and the slight, while not forgotten, was certainly not keeping him away. Zelda had finished her nap and retreated back to the kitchen, where she had re-positioned herself into a ball near the pot belly stove. Alice, the magpie, was presumably off doing magpie things because she hadn’t been seen since breakfast. Mel, having finished her snacks and her head swimming with macabre German fairytales, had gathered her things and said goodbye. Hedy expected she would be seeing the young woman again in the days ahead. She hoped so, she seemed like a nice girl.

  And so, the afternoon wore on, with the sun beginning to dim and the light changing closer to the evening hour. The front door bell tinkled and a stranger entered the shop.

  “Are you still open, madam?” His German accent was very slight but noticeable. Under his arm, he carried a dark red satchel.

  “Yes indeed. We will be open for a few more hours surely, although I do plan to close early when a guest arrives.”

  The man walked up to the counter, fishing in his pocket as he did so. He drew out a card with a series of circles, four stacked like a “T” and a fifth across the center - all linked and interconnected. He passed the card across the countertop.

  “Oh, I guess we are closing now after all. You are early, sir. I expected you later tonight, but you are most welcome.” He took the card back and put it in his pocket as Hedy came out from behind the counter and walked toward the front door. She flipped the sign to Closed and returned to the stranger.

  “I hope it is not an inconvenience, madam. There is no need to close your shop on my account.” The stranger was slim and tall, with neat, brownish-red hair and brown eyes, and wrapped up in a brown overcoat. He reminded Hedy of some movie version of Sherlock Holmes.

  “Not at all, sir. It is no inconvenience - it is my duty and my pleasure as a waystation for travelers such as yourself. Please come in and make yourself comfortable.” She waived him toward the same table where Mel had sat earlier. Hedy busied herself behind the counter, placing a fresh cookie and a cup of coffee on the small tray for her latest lodger.

  “Thank you, madam. My name is Bren Aldebrand. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.” The man accepted the tray with a small smile, and paused to take a sip of his coffee, nodding appreciatively. His host was a curious figure with that shocking white hairstyle and the pale and freckled skin, yet a youthful face.

  “Are you planning to be with us for a while? You’ve come during a lovely time of the year, with autumn colors and clear days near the mountains.” Hedy brought her own cup of coffee over and sat at the table with Bren.

  “I had planned to stay a week or so, if that is acceptable. I have been traveling for some time and frankly, I am a bit weary and could use the rest before I continue my journey.” Bren took another sip of his coffee and settled a bit more into his chair. Hedy could see the wear of it on his face.

  “We would be pleased to have you. The Concierge had mentioned you were coming, as my standard accommodations were not going to be sufficient for your…needs. I gather you have been traveling for some time; I received word quite some time ago to expect your arrival.” Hedy found it strange that the traveler kept his focus on the coffee cup, rather than looking her in the eye.

  “Yes, I have been on the road for ages it seems. I have been using the waystation network for months, and frankly, I am exhausted by it all.” He finally looked up, and Hedy found his eyes warm if somewhat guarded. She wondered if the little wrinkles at their corners were due to his journey.

  “If you like, I can show you to your room and you can rest until dinner. There will be time later to chat.” Bren nodded, taking a quick sip of the coffee and bringing the cookie with him as he rose from his seat. Hedy led the way back to the entry and to the large staircase with the bramble gate blocking the way. She found the hidden latch that kept the gate in place; once unlatched it easily folded back against itself, opening the staircase.

  “That’s quite ingenious. The gate looks impenetrable.” Hedy smiled as she led Bren up the stairs, their steps were silent on the thick Turkish carpet.

  “Yes, like Rapunzel’s thicket. I had to find a way to keep customers from venturing upstairs into the private part of the house. The gate looks much trickier than it really is, as is the case with most puzzles.” They followed the stairs up, curving as it went to the second floor. The walls were peppered with shadowboxes and curios, and portraits with dour faces. At the second-floor landing, Hedy turned to the right and opened a large door, leading into the room for Bren.

  Apart from a rather strange stone lounge, the room was a standard affair. The windows faced the east, there was an ornately carved wardrobe against the wall, and a door that no doubt led to a bathroom. Bren set his satchel on the foot of the bed.

  “I hope you find everything comfortable. We’ll have dinner at six if you’d like to join us then. The library is down at the end of the hall, feel free to visit it. I’ll pop in there now to let Adelaide know that you are here.”

  “Adelaide? Another traveler is here?” He hadn’t expected that.

  “No, Adelaide lives in the house, or rather, she used to live here. She is a spirit and she haunts the house now. But don’t worry, she isn’t prone to mischief - well, not much mischief anyway.” Hedy left her guest with a surprised expression as she closed the door behind her.

  ✽✽✽

  Dinner was a simple affair, though Hedy had used the formal dining room rather than the usual kitchen table. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes looked a bit fancier on the pale pink glass china that she liked to use for company. Bren found himself seated at the table with a cat, a chinchilla, and his hostess. Apparently, the magpie had not returned f
rom her outing that day.

  “Welcome to Bren, our guest this week. We are very glad to have you here, aren’t we, Zelda and Maurice?” Hedy raised her glass of Syrah and took a sip. “Dig in, everyone. Bren, we’d love to hear about your journey, if you are inclined to share with us.” She speared a few coins of carrot on her fork and swirled them in the beef gravy puddle on her plate.

  “Thank you for the welcome. I am glad to be here. I’ve been traveling a while, only recently arriving in the region when the cargo ship from China docked in Seattle. I’m making my way east, toward New York City.” If he was surprised at the introduction to the animals or that they were eating at the table, he didn’t say so.

  “That’s certainly a long journey, from China to New York. I can’t imagine how long the whole thing would take.” Hedy took another sip of her wine.

  “Why not simply catch a plane to New York? What with modern air travel being what it is.” Maurice spoke up for the first time since that morning. He didn’t worry about the traveler’s reaction to a talking chinchilla; if someone was staying with Hedy, they themselves were likely stranger than himself and anyway, Maurice rarely worried about the niceties. With age came certain luxuries.

  Bren only paused a moment, which was a credit to his composure, and Hedy felt terribly guilty for not properly preparing him for the situation. It had been awhile since she had dined with anyone other than the menagerie and she forgot that their speech wasn’t expected.

  “That is a fair question, Maurice. I would like to travel by air but unfortunately, I cannot do so. I’m rather combustible, and the change in pressure for flight would be more than I could contain. Perhaps you will permit me to ask the question as to how I can understand you. I hope you don’t find the question rude.” Maurice had his mouth open to reply when Zelda interrupted.

  “Combustible, you say?” Zelda appeared for all the world to arch what would be eyebrows on a human face.

  “Yes, Zelda. Bren is one of the four elementals, a member of the salamander clan. He is our first such guest. Remember when we had the stone lounge installed? It was for him.” Zelda did not seem mollified by that answer.

  “Salamanders are fire beings. The only reason I appear in this human form right now is that I am controlling my appearance through my will. This control takes energy and effort. I can do so for quite a while but eventually, I must take my fire form for a rest.” The strangeness of explaining the essence of salamanders to a cat was not lost on him.

  “So, your human form is just a trick then?” The cat sounded suspicious.

  “No, it isn’t a trick. I am a human in that I need to eat, breathe and sleep, as all humans do. But I also contain fire, fire which grows with intensity and power as I age, until it will reach a point where I can no longer control it and I become fire. Salamanders do not reach old age in their human form. They become fire fully, or they are extinguished. But that is why I am on my journey - to find a release from my fire.”

  It was Hedy’s turn to be surprised. She had never heard of an elemental seeking to be released from their form. “Is such a thing possible?”

  “There are those who say so, though I have yet to find real proof. Stories led me to the mountains of China, where I consulted with a mountain sage who told me that the only person she knew who had ever released a salamander lived now in New York City. I am on my way to find him.”

  “Well, we certainly wish you success and safety on your journey. I hope when you reach New York you will send us a postcard so we know of your safe arrival.” Bren smiled awkwardly and nodded. It had been a long time since anyone cared whether he was safe or not. He wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling; he preferred to be on his own as it was easier that way.

  “There is smoke around you, salamander. Smoke that hides your truth.” The words came from the stillness in the room and Maurice scurried down from his plate, disappearing beneath the table.

  “Adelaide, please do be kind to our guest. If you care to join us, we ask you to appear, not to lurk about.” Hedy gave an apologetic smile to Bren. “Please forgive Adelaide, she tends to be a bit melodramatic. She has been in the house for almost a hundred years and much of that time has been spent haunting the living who did not understand her. She has a penchant for talking in riddles.”

  “It’s quite alright. I would say that she is most perceptive to my nature. Adelaide, I look forward to meeting your properly.” Bren spoke into the room but there was no further response.

  “She’ll come around in her own time. Anyone care for dessert? I have an apple pie warm from the oven. I still owe you an answer about the menagerie, don’t I?” Zelda and Bren were ready for the pie but Maurice had already left the room; he still wasn’t comfortable around Adelaide.

  ✽✽✽

  Dinner was finished and Bren had insisted on helping with the washing up, though he preferred drying the dishes to submerging his hands in water. “It’s not that I can’t get wet, it is just that I find it rather unpleasant,” he said.

  “Oh, then you would not care for winters in Enumclaw, or really anywhere near here. It rains quite a bit here, as I’m sure you've heard. The Pacific Northwest is rather famous for its rain, though it isn’t quite as bad as everyone says.” Hedy passed the wet plates to him and he handled them quickly with the towel, stacking them on the slightly warm stovetop.

  “Yes, so I have heard. I expect to be well gone from this region by the time the rains begin in earnest. But if my journey is successful, I will come back and dance in the rain and drench myself from my head to my toes.”

  Hedy chuckled as she imagined a former salamander dancing for joy in her yard. “I hope to see that, Bren.”

  “If I might ask you about being a host, I know a bit of the story of the waystations. They have been around since the early 20th century as a way for those with special abilities to be able to safely travel, correct?” Hedy nodded, though she herself only knew a bit more as to their origins.

  “How did you become a host?” As far as he could tell, Hedy was just an ordinary, if somewhat bizarrely attired, woman. It seemed a strange profession for her.

  “Oh, that is a bit of a long story, but I came into the network several years ago. Signing on to be a new host requires living in an established waystation for a year, as well as having the financial means to support a house. As you know, waystations are dotted across not only America but all over the world. I served my residency in a house in New Orleans, though in the case of New Orleans there was hardly a need for it in that supernatural friendly city. Have you ever been there?” Hedy pulled the plug from the drain and the dirty water began to swirl from the sink.

  Bren shook his head, “No, but perhaps one day, maybe I will go there to celebrate if I am successful on this quest.”

  “It’s a perfect town for that. Everyone should see it once. There is no place quite like New Orleans, though it can be quite dangerous, especially for those who live on the edges of regular society. As I found out first hand.” Hedy chuckled lightly, but it had taken her years to remember those days without fear.

  “Maybe you can be my guide then. We can be touristischen together, frauline.” Bren gave her a crisp bow and took the last clean dish from her to dry. She did her best to curtsy back.

  It was nearing eight o’clock but she could tell that Bren was ready to retire. “Thank you for the help with the dishes. I am a night owl, Bren, so don’t mind me. I may open the shop back up in case any customers are in need of a late-night treat. Feel free to head upstairs if you wish. I hope the stone lounge works for you - you can imagine how popular I was with the local moving company. If there is something else that would be better though, please let me know.”

  “No, stone is perfect. I can truly rest on something that I do not need to worry about catching fire. Thank you for a lovely meal and your charming company. I do hope to meet Adelaide properly tomorrow.”

  Bren withdrew from the kitchen and his words reminded her to seek out the res
ident spirit in the library. Ghost or no ghost, manners were still a thing of consequence in Hedy’s house. She made her way up the stairs, bringing a lit candle with her, as Adelaide preferred no electric lights in the library. Hedy made her way into the dark room and placed the candle on the small table near the door. She took a few tapers from their sconces and lit them as well, bringing shadowy light to the room. The room had the faint odor of lavender and cedar, like a sachet from a grandmother’s underwear drawer.

  “Adelaide, I’d like to speak with you. Will you show yourself?” She waited a few moments before she saw the curtain near the window rustle and move and the form of Adelaide appear before her. The ghost was barely five feet tall and the palest of blue from the outline of her bobbed hair to the toes of her t-strap shoes. She shimmered slightly in the candlelight. The lavender scent filled Hedy’s nostrils.

  “I am surprised that I have to say this to you, since you have existed for as many years as you have, but your comment in the dining room was rather rude, you know. Bren is a guest in this house.” Adelaide said nothing and Hedy waited for what seemed like a long time before continuing. “I know we have only lived together a short time and we’ve only had a few travelers these last months, but I thought we had both learned to accept and appreciate the differences in our guests and each other. I hope you will show a little effort tomorrow to be kind to him.” Adelaide turned away from Hedy though she did not disappear.

  “He hides a secret graver than what he shared. There is smoke around him, it hides the truth.” Before Hedy could answer, Adelaide was gone, leaving the curtain rustling by the window.