Darkling Green

by Kim Thompson

  There was a knock on the door. Willa started for the front hall, still muttering. “Well, it’s making them loopy. They’ve all lost their minds!”

  She swung the door open and found herself staring into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen in her life.

  “Hi. You must be Willa? I’m Jake.”

  He was a tall boy, and she stared up at him, not knowing what to say. There was an awkward silence. He blushed and ran his fingers through his longish hair.

  “I’m Everett’s brother. I came to pick him up.”

  “Oh! Oh, yes,” Willa stammered. “Let me get him.” The brother! she thought. The one in high school. I didn’t know he was so … tall.

  She hurried into the parlour and looked around quickly to make sure there was no weirdness on display. All the fairies had ducked out of sight. As she gathered Everett’s blankie and toys, she saw Jake eyeing the smouldering wasp nest in the corner, but he didn’t comment.

  After she had handed Everett in his carriage over to the bluest eyes in the world, Willa stood in the doorway watching them disappear down the street. Behind her, Belle chuckled.

  “What were you saying just now? Who’s lost their minds?”

  Willa blushed but didn’t answer.

  Chapter Eight

  A glitch in time

  Willa returned to the parlour. Okay. Time to focus. She went to the mantle and pulled out the tiny bit of scarf, which was slowly disappearing before her eyes.

  Horace wandered in, and his eyes widened at the sight of it. “Oh dear.”

  Sarah buzzed into the room and lit on the back of the sofa, out of breath. “I’ve been all through the woods and talked to every single one of our fairies.”

  “And?” asked Willa.

  “No volunteers.”

  Willa groaned. “Don’t they know how serious this is?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I could try Oberon’s fairies. Maybe Hubert…?” She gazed over at her friend on the mantle.

  Horace made a face. Belle snorted. “Not a good idea. I wouldn’t trust them.”

  Willa looked at her with wild eyes. “But we haven’t got much time left … Sarah!”

  Sarah was batting her eyes at Hubert. Willa waved the last inch of scarf in front of her face. “Sarah! Focus! We need a knitter! Mab won’t do it, and only tiny hands can handle this. I tried once, but my stitches made time really clunky.” Willa’s gaze fell to Sarah’s hands clasped around the clipboard. Sarah yelped and hid her hands behind her back.

  “I’m a terrible knitter!” she squealed.

  “You know how to knit?” Willa fought to stay calm. “Sarah, please help us. You can do this. You’re clever. If this scarf runs out we drop into nothingness, the void! No outside world … no sun, no stars, no … groceries! Please, Sarah! Pleeease?”

  Sarah blushed. “You really think I’m clever?”

  “Of course!” Willa dropped her voice to a whisper. “Who else could keep Mab in line?”

  “I suppose I could give it a try.” Sarah climbed into the knitting bowl and set to work. None too soon, as the knitting had dwindled to only two rows by the time she got started. Willa breathed a little easier to see her concentrating on her work and watched over her shoulder until Sarah looked up in irritation. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry. I’ll give you some space.” Willa wandered out into the hall. She opened the front door and stared out at the pouring rain. She frowned, thinking of their bright, sunny winter months, and of the peace and calm they’d been enjoying. Everything was just perfect until Oberon showed up!

  Willa shut the door, turned, and let out a surprised yelp at the sight of a solemn rabbit standing in the hall watching her. It didn’t budge as she edged back into the parlour. Those bunnies are creeping me out, she thought.

  Willa couldn’t help herself; she peeked into the bowl again. Sarah had finished a few rows, but the stitches were bumpy and uneven, and there were two small holes where she’d dropped stitches.

  “Um, it’s a good start,” said Willa.

  “I’m doing my best,” said Sarah crossly. “I may be clever, but that doesn’t make me handy, you know.”

  Horace was now at her side. Willa showed him the scarf. “Those holes, do you think they’ll affect time at all?”

  Horace was nodding thoughtfully. “Perhaps. We won’t have long to find out.”

  It was true. The unravelling had almost reached the first little gap. Horace walked to the window, and Willa followed.

  They stared out at the rain. Suddenly Horace pointed. “There it is.”

  A silvery, shimmering blob moved down the road, sometimes along the ground, sometimes drifting up to float through the air. It was about the size of a car and wobbled unsteadily, like a bubble.

  “What is it?” breathed Willa.

  “A hole in time.”

  As it lurched along, a dark shape tumbled out of it into the street.

  “And what’s that?” asked Willa.

  “This hole is simply one end of a corridor from another time. Objects sometimes get caught in these corridors and fall out the other end,” said Horace. “Tengu, would you mind checking it out?”

  Willa heard the front door slam, and Tengu trotted outside. He jumped out of the way of the silver bubble as it veered off the roadway, moved up their front walk, and poured across the parlour window like silver paint.

  A bright white glow passed down the main hallway, sweeping to the back of the house. Willa, Belle, and Horace stared at each other in the weird, glistening light, then everything returned to normal.

  “It’s gone right through the house,” said Horace. Willa dashed to the window at the end of the hall and looked out into the backyard. She saw the bubble shimmy across the grass and slip into the pool. She waited, but it didn’t emerge again.

  “It’s in the pool!” she hollered. The front door slammed shut, and she went to meet Tengu in the hall. He held up a large, rough wooden bucket.

  “It was just a bucket that fell out. Nice one, though.”

  There was a rumbling sound, and they jumped back as the trapdoor to the basement opened. Robert came thundering up, followed by a few dwarves.

  “What the blazes just happened? We were in the middle of a friendly game of cards and I was just about to win the pot when it disappeared into some kind of … of …”

  “Time hole,” said Horace. “It was a time hole.”

  “Well, it’s a damn nuisance!” growled Robert. “I lost half a deck of cards and a goodly pile of dwarf gold!”

  Sarah looked at them all, her eyes as big as saucers. “Did I do that?” she squeaked. “All I did was drop a stitch!”

  “Mab! Get out here and start knitting!” Willa barked at the wasp nest. “NOW!”

  Mab emerged, her lips pursed, but she gave no argument. She flew over to the bowl, took the knitting from Sarah, and got to work. Willa glanced quickly at the scarf. “There’s one more coming up.”

  Everyone crowded around the window. Willa heard the front door open and saw Tengu saunter out to the road again.

  “There it is!” rasped Horace, pointing.

  “Good heavens, look at it!” muttered Belle.

  It was bigger, as tall as a tree, floating along above the rooftops. As it approached, it suddenly swooped to the ground. Willa caught a glimpse of a dark shape dropping from it, and Tengu running to catch it.

  “Brace yourselves!” shouted Horace as the bubble hit the house. The parlour was suffused with blinding light. There was a loud whoosh of wind in Willa’s ears, and a deathly chill passed through her. She groped her way past Robert and stumbled down the hall to the rear window.

  The silvery bubble collapsed and filled the yard like a shining flood. Then it began draining away. Down and down it went, spiralling away and disappearing into the pool.

  Silence.<
br />
  “Everything all right?” Horace joined her at the window.

  “The time holes both went into the pool,” said Willa. “What does that mean?”

  Horace thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Let’s take a look.”

  They went outside, and Willa shone her flashlight into the pool. There was about a foot of rainwater down there, and she could see two silver bubbles resting on the bottom of the pool like beads of mercury — one small and one large.

  “How odd,” said Horace, frowning. “Time holes usually disappear after just a few moments. They’re extremely unstable.”

  Horace fetched a broom and poked one of the bubbles with the handle. There was a sudden whoosh, and the broom was sucked out of his hand, disappearing into the bubble, which wavered for a moment and was still again.

  “Hmm,” he said.

  “They both headed straight for the pool,” said Willa. “Like they were drawn to it.”

  Horace stood for a while in thought. “A location- specific phenomenon. This pool must be some kind of time wrinkle.”

  Willa looked at him weakly. “I’m not even going to pretend to understand what you’re talking about.”

  Horace nodded, smiling. “That’s probably best.”

  As they entered the front hall, Tengu was just slipping into his room.

  “What fell out of that one?” asked Willa.

  Tengu peeked out again. “Nothing much. Sticks, dead branches. Well, I’m beat, goodnight!” And with a quick wave he disappeared into his room.

  Horace was already in the parlour. A large boot had suddenly appeared on the coffee table, but there was no evidence of anything else falling out of the time hole. Eikinskjaldi came out of the kitchen to report they’d lost a toaster in the first time hole and a pot-scrubber in the second.

  “That’s all? Good!” replied Willa, but the dwarf was really bummed.

  “It was an outstanding toaster,” he sighed.

  Willa collapsed on the sofa. “Mab, we need to find you a backup knitter. Someone who doesn’t drop stitches. No offense, Sarah.”

  Sarah didn’t appear to have heard her; she was back in the hibiscus plant with her lute player. Willa looked up at Mab, who was eyeing her warily.

  “It would take some of the pressure off you, Mab. You must get tired of knitting.”

  Mab considered, nodding. “I do, actually.”

  “It’s got to be someone who can do the same fine work. Do you think any of the other fairies…?”

  Mab shook her head quickly, rolling her eyes.

  “Who else is there?” Willa asked helplessly.

  “We might put out a general advertisement among all the Little People,” Mab answered. “Sarah, see to it at once!” She turned, looking around the room. “Sarah!”

  Sarah gave Hubert a quick peck on the cheek before flying up. “Yes, Your Extravagancy?”

  Mab gave her quick instructions, and Sarah flew off. Mab turned back to Willa. “We’ll find someone right away. Goodnight!” She started for her wasp nest.

  Willa cleared her throat. “Um, Mab? Could you knit a few more rows before you go to sleep? Just to get us through the night?”

  Mab scowled, but she plunked herself in the bowl and got to work.

  At home that night, Willa fell wearily into bed. The sound of the wind and rain in the trees carried her off to sleep, and she dreamed of an endless sea of green. The air was filled with the whisper of leaves, but underneath was an insistent, scratchy, skittering sound, which continued through the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Eight legs to the rescue

  Mab was right. It only took one day to find a knitter. When Willa arrived at the house after school the next day, Sarah fluttered up in a tizzy.

  “It’s … we’ve … I can’t —” She gasped.

  “Hold on, calm down. What happened?”

  Sarah took a deep breath, then squealed, “New knitter!”

  “Good!” Willa kicked her boots off and entered the parlour. More fairies, including Oberon’s entourage, swarmed around her.

  “Simply unacceptable!”

  “Outrageous!”

  “It can’t be allowed!” they shrieked.

  Pressing her hands over her ears, Willa pushed her way through the mob. “Let me through, please!”

  The rabbits were in a semicircle facing the bowl on the mantle, their swords drawn. Willa could see Oberon peeking out of his carriage, clearly terrified.

  “It’ll kill us all!” he yelped before disappearing inside. The rabbits stepped aside to allow Willa through. Mab stood next to the knitting bowl, her arms crossed, clearly delighted with the uproar.

  “You found someone?” asked Willa. Mab nodded and gestured grandly to the bowl. The fairies fell silent as Willa rose up on her tiptoes to peek inside. She found herself face to face with a massive, hairy black spider.

  “Hello darlin’,” it purred.

  “Aaahh!” Willa jumped back. “That’s your new knitter?”

  “Yes,” crowed Mab. “Her name is Tabitha, and she comes with excellent references. She won the Woodland Textile Expo eight times in a row.” Willa looked in at the spider again. She couldn’t believe how big she was. Her body was as large as Willa’s fist, and she was mostly black, though now Willa noticed patches of white hair on her legs, which were neatly folded in front of her. She had enormous, shiny black discs for eyes: two big ones in the centre and two smaller ones to the sides.

  “So nice to meet you,” said Tabitha softly.

  “Hello. I’m Willa.”

  “Tabitha can spin, sew, weave, embroider, knit, darn, and crochet,” announced Mab. “She knows a thousand different stitches!”

  “Oh now, miss, you’re embarrassing me,” Tabitha protested, ducking her head shyly.

  “But it’s all true!” said Mab proudly. “Go on, show her.”

  Without taking her large, unblinking eyes off Willa, Tabitha picked up the ball of yarn, tossed it deftly from leg to leg, and began to knit. Instead of needles, she used her legs, which flashed back and forth with machine-like precision. Yarn loops appeared and slipped through each other at lightning speed, forming row after effortless row. Willa stared in amazement.

  Mab sighed happily. “Isn’t she magnificent?”

  Tabitha modestly dropped her gaze, and the fairies started up again with their complaints, clustering behind Willa for protection.

  “She’ll catch us in a web!”

  “She’ll eat us!”

  “You can’t let her stay!”

  Willa addressed the spider firmly. “Your work is wonderful, but you can only stay if you promise not to harm the fairies.”

  Tabitha’s main eyes widened and she let out a little gasp. “I wouldn’t dream of it! Why, I wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

  “Which is why the fairies will supply her meals,” said Mab. “So she doesn’t have to hunt for food.” There was a buzz of protest from the fairies, but Mab silenced them with an imperious glare.

  Willa turned back to Tabitha. “Has Mab told you how important this scarf is?”

  “Yes, and I promise to be hardworking, discreet, and reliable.” The spider’s entire face curved into a smile. “You can count on me, darlin’.”

  Willa smiled back. An industrious spider would definitely be a step up from Mab or any of her flighty subjects. And she certainly seemed qualified — her knitting was rapid, smooth, and perfect. Not a single dropped stitch.

  “Welcome to Eldritch Manor, Tabitha,” said Willa.

  “Thank you,” answered the spider.

  As Willa turned away, she saw Baz gazing at the spider with a strange, glazed look in her eye.

  “Baz! Tabitha is not a snack! Leave her alone, all right?”

  “Who, me? Why, I wouldn’t hurt a fly,” purred Baz, retrea
ting to the sofa.

  Sarah and the other fairies were still a bit frightened of Tabitha, but when they brought her the dead flies they’d collected from around the house, she thanked them so politely that they were soon won over. The knitting bowl was removed from the mantle and hung below Mab’s nest. Tabitha could work in peace there, out of Baz’s reach, and Mab gained an immense watch-spider outside her door. Tabitha’s presence certainly kept Oberon away, as he was absolutely terrified of the spider. Thus deprived of access to his lady-love, Oberon spent his time glumly digging into the mantle with his bejewelled sword, carving little hearts with “O+M” in the centre.

  Willa was not particularly fond of Oberon, but this was just too pathetic to bear. And as pleased as she was with Tabitha, Mab became increasingly distracted and moody. More than once Willa caught her gazing sadly in Oberon’s direction, though she always looked away if he chanced to look back.

  It didn’t much matter to Willa if they ever made up again, but she suspected that if they resolved their differences, the rain might stop and the blessed sun appear again. Every day was the same dark, dreary, soggy mess, and it was getting Willa down.

  “Go and talk to him!” she said to Mab, who harumphed and slammed her door.

  “Go and talk to her!” she said to Oberon. He was lying face down on the mantle and did not respond.

  “They’re acting like teenagers,” she complained to Belle, who was sitting at the window staring out at the backyard.

  “They are teenagers. Eight-hundred-year-old teenagers,” Belle observed. “You can’t make a fairy do anything they don’t want to do, and that includes growing up.” She pointed out the window. “This is much more interesting than idiot fairies. Take a look at that!”

  Willa squinted out the window at the rain and fog. “I don’t see anything.”

  “The pool!” hissed Belle. “Look at the pool! It’s filling up!”

  The rain was, indeed, slowly filling the pool, which was now half full of dark green water.

  “Looks gross.”