Darkling Green

by Kim Thompson

“That’s the most interesting part,” said Willa. “The big bubble always ends in a different place, it moves around like it’s supposed to, but the small one always leads to the same time and place. It comes out in a holy well in the middle ages, where there are unicorns and fairies and witches and things like that.”

  “A holy well,” muttered Horace.

  “Could the well be a time wrinkle too? Like our pool? Could both ends of this time hole be stuck in place?” suggested Willa with great excitement.

  Horace ran both hands through his hair. He had a bewildered look about him. “I’ve never heard anything like it. I suppose it’s possible, but highly unlikely.”

  Meanwhile, Mjodvitnir and a couple other dwarves had armed themselves with axes and had begun hacking at the vines around the foundation of the house.

  The daylight around them suddenly diminished. Willa looked at her watch and started. The hands were in motion, doing a slow spin around the dial, and it was already coming up to six o’clock.

  “What? Time’s moving fast now!” Willa showed Horace her watch. “What is Tabitha doing? My mom’s going to kill me!”

  Both of her parents were at the door as she ran up, out of breath. She’d concocted an alibi during her run home. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do.

  “I was studying in the library, and I fell asleep,” she blurted out before her mom started yelling.

  They both seemed to accept it, but her mom had a suspicious eye on her as they ate supper. Willa was just glad she hadn’t been swimming and her hair wasn’t wet.

  Grey eyes fringed with leaves. The serious mouth. Willa stared at the face. Again and again and again! she thought. The mouth opened to the black space beyond, and it asked her:

  Who are you?

  Willa opened her mouth to answer, and out of her mouth flowed vines, branches, leaves, and flowers, pouring out, rising up until she was swimming in them. A wave covered her face. She closed her eyes to the green and felt herself falling.

  Then a sound, a repetitive clop clop clop clop.

  She opened her eyes. The unicorn was beside her. She pulled herself up onto his back and hugged his neck as they plunged through the leaves and vines. She closed her eyes, and after a while she had the sensation that she was walking.

  She opened her eyes. She was walking down a city street. The clip-clopping continued beside her, but when she turned she didn’t see the unicorn, she saw a black horse, walking upright on two legs like a man. She looked up at this familiar apparition, unafraid. They walked along together for a while.

  You always come to warn me, she thought.

  Yes.

  And here you are again.

  Yes.

  She shivered and turned to face him. He was tall, and his eyes burned red.

  Will Miss Trang be all right? she asked. What should we do?

  The horse answered in slow, rhythmic verse. Willa strained to hear every word. Then the horse turned and ran, moving away from her at great speed but without making a sound. The silence pushed into her ears and exploded in her head.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In which Willa learns the whole truth

  Willa woke with the remnants of a dream floating in her head, but they vanished as soon as she remembered poor Miss Trang.

  I should have been paying more attention. I should have been checking on her.

  She dressed in a hurry, hoping to duck out of the house before her mom got up.

  No such luck. She was in the living room. Willa walked to the closet and got out her jacket, feeling her mother’s eyes on her back.

  “Where are you going on a Saturday morning?”

  Willa took a deep breath before answering. “I have to go to Eldritch, Mom. It’s an emergency. Miss Trang is very sick, she looks absolutely terrible, and I—”

  “How do you know she looks terrible?”

  Willa’s heart sank. Here we go. “I was there yesterday.”

  “You said you were at the library.”

  “Yeah, well … ”

  “You lied to me. I told you not to go there, and you disobeyed me.”

  Willa flushed with anger. “I have a right to go where I want!”

  “Back to your room.”

  “Miss Trang needs me. She’s really sick!”

  “The others can take care of her, I’m sure. The whole crazy house won’t fall down without you! You need to learn that.”

  Willa stared at her in disbelief. Her mom had always been a hard case, stubborn and strict, but this was ridiculous. Willa turned and started out the door. As she stepped out onto the front step a single word crashed into her mind—

  STOP!

  The force of it nearly knocked her over. Willa steadied herself against the open door and stood there, recovering her thoughts. She turned and saw her mom with her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

  “You … you can do that?” gasped Willa. And then she knew the truth. She regarded her mother levelly. “I have a question for you.”

  Her mom had a frightened look in her eyes.

  “Did you make me afraid of water?” Willa blurted out.

  Her mom blinked. “How could I do that?”

  “With mermaid powers. Putting ideas into my head, like you did just now!”

  “Willa, don’t— ” started her mom.

  “Did you give me that phobia? Did you brainwash me?” shot back Willa.

  Her mom met her gaze, pale and trembling. “It was for your own good!” They stared at each other. Her mom sat heavily on the sofa, suddenly looking very small. “Willa …”

  Willa slammed the door behind her and ran right into Grandpa on the front lawn.

  “Hey, kiddo! What’s the hurry?”

  She looked at him, her eyes full of tears, then shook her head and ran off.

  At Eldritch Manor, Willa paused in the front hall, wiping her eyes. Then she went to Miss Trang’s room. Belle and Horace were there.

  “How is she?”

  “No change,” said Horace.

  Belle looked up at her tear-stained face. “Willa! What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Willa burst into tears as Belle led her into the parlour. “Mom, she … we had a fight.” She sat down, and Belle took her hand.

  “What did she do?”

  “She … she was trying to keep me from coming here. And …” Willa stopped.

  “And what?”

  “Nothing. We just had a fight.” She couldn’t say it out loud. She couldn’t say that her mom had messed with her mind when she was little. It was just too awful.

  Belle gave Willa’s hand a squeeze. “Stay here with us. We’re your family now.” Willa looked over at Robert, snoozing in the corner, and Baz, snoring on the couch.

  “Lively bunch,” she sniffed.

  “We’ll get a little supper into you, and you’ll feel a lot better,” said Belle.

  “Supper? You mean breakfast.”

  “No, no. Look at the time. I’ll see if there’s any soup on.”

  Belle wheeled herself out of the room. Willa stood and tiptoed past Robert to look out the window.

  For weeks, the outside world had been in slow-mo, but now the street was a blur of activity: people zooming back and forth, cars flashing by, clouds somersaulting across the sky.

  Willa glanced again at the clock. She really didn’t like the way the clock hands were marching along. She pulled over a stool and peeked into the knitting bowl. Tabitha wasn’t there. Willa could see right away that the scarf had changed drastically: the stitches were now so long and stretched that the leafy pattern was distended and weird.

  She lifted the scarf. Further along, the stitches grew even larger, and the yarn changed colour. The silver darkened slowly to a murky gun-metal grey. That’s not right, thought Willa. Even the ball of yarn now loo
ked nearly black. What is Tabitha doing?

  She knocked on the dollhouse door, but there was no answer. Her thoughts were interrupted by Belle returning. “There’ll be beef stew in a few minutes. Smells delicious.”

  Willa pointed to the clock. “Aren’t you worried about the time zipping along like that?”

  Belle shrugged. “Time marches on. When you’re as old as I am, you don’t pay so much attention to it.” She rubbed her hands excitedly. “All right then. We’ll have the dwarves whip up a room for you, and we’ll have to find you some clothes….”

  Willa sank into an armchair. “I should have packed a bag. I’ll sneak home later and grab a few things.”

  Belle shook her head. “Better not take the chance. If she gets her claws into you, she won’t let you leave again. Ever!”

  Willa felt extremely weary. “Claws? She’s not a monster.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” sniffed Belle.

  “She may not be perfect, but she’s still my mom,” protested Willa. “The reason she acts like she does is because of you, you know.”

  Belle looked at her coldly. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You left her! That’s really big for a kid.”

  “Mermaid children are fully independent by the age of two,” Belle shot back.

  Willa frowned. “Humans do things differently.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” Belle rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand how mermaids operate, sweetie.” She pivoted her chair toward the doorway. “I’m going to see if I can’t speed up that stew.”

  Belle rolled out of the room. Willa felt a sharp pain in her chest, like she was going to cry again.

  “She is the way she is. You know that,” said a calm voice. It was Baz, stretching and yawning herself awake on the sofa.

  “Yeah, I know. She’s a mermaid,” Willa sighed.

  Willa decided to go out to the pool to think, but as she opened the front door, she found herself face to face with Grandpa.

  “Grandpa! What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, kiddo.” He gave her a wink. “Your mom sent me. She’s kinda worried.”

  They sat on the front steps. Grandpa suddenly noticed that people and cars were just blurs. “Heavens! What’s going on?”

  “It’s a long story. We’re having some trouble with time here.”

  “Okay, then.” Grandpa blinked and turned back to her. “So I hear you had a fight.”

  Willa stared at the ground. “Mom lied to me, and she’s trying to keep me locked up at home.”

  Grandpa raised his eyebrows. “What did she lie about?”

  “Swimming in high school.”

  “Ah, yes,” he murmured. “You know, Willa, it’s not uncommon for parents to keep things from their kids until they’re old enough to understand them. I didn’t tell your mother everything about her mother….”

  “That she was a mermaid,” finished Willa.

  Grandpa nodded. “Yeah, I waited a little too long to tell her, and when she found out, boy was she sore at me!” He chuckled. “The truth is, I just didn’t want her worrying about it too much. She’s a worrier. Like you.”

  Willa felt her anger fade a little. “That’s not the worst part. When I was little, she brainwashed me. She made me scared of the water just to keep me from swimming.”

  He sighed deeply. “She shouldn’t have done that, that’s the honest to God truth. But you have to know she didn’t do it through anger or malice. She did it because she was afraid.”

  “What was she so afraid of?” wailed Willa. “Water? Gills? Belle?”

  Grandpa thought for a moment before answering. “She’s afraid you’ll become like Belle and leave.”

  Willa blinked the tears from her eyes as he enfolded her in a big hug. “You take as long as you need here. I’ll look after your mom.” Then he stood, ruffled her hair with his hand, and walked away.

  Willa watched him disappear into the blur of people on the street and then walked slowly to the pool. She tried to forget about Belle and Mom and focus instead on how to help Miss Trang, but as she stared into the water, her thoughts swirled together in a confused mess. She undressed to her bathing suit and stood a moment, teetering on the edge. Then she let gravity take her and crumpled into the pool.

  She sank to the bottom and lay on her back. Water rippled above her, and beyond that the sky rippled too. She breathed deeply, fighting the urge to cry. When she felt calmer, she turned her head to look at the two time holes, glistening in the half-light.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  In which dreams are connected and a rhyme recalled

  It was sunny and bright at Gwyneth’s hut. There were gar-ilands of yellow flowers everywhere — draped over the door, hung in the windows, even looped around the goat’s neck. The well, too, was covered in yellow blossoms. Gwyneth came out of the hut with a pitcher and carefully poured what looked like milk on the ground across her doorway.

  “What the heck are you doing?” called Willa.

  Gwyneth saw her and came over. “Willa! Thanks for bringin’ this back.” She patted the wooden bucket on the edge of the well.

  “No problem.” Willa climbed out of the well. Gwyneth gaped in surprise, pointing to her legs.

  “I thought ye were a mermaid!”

  “Only part, remember?” smiled Willa.

  “And this …” She gingerly touched at the strap of Willa’s suit. “This ain’t yer skin?”

  “No. It’s a bathing suit. Clothing for swimming in.”

  Gwyneth raised an eyebrow. “That’s daft! Ye don’t need clothes for swimmin’!”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s not very mermaidy of me.” Willa sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure how much of a mermaid I really am.”

  Gwyneth nodded. “Bein’ half somethin’ and half somethin’ else can be confusing. My elvish relations are nimble and quick. Brilliant archers and beautiful dancers. Me now, I’m not bad with a bow an’ arrow, but I dance like a duck.”

  Willa laughed. “The worst part is feeling different. Like I don’t know who I am.”

  “’Tis a blessing and a curse.” Gwyneth looked her in the eye, suddenly serious. “Ye can end up having the worst parts of each, or the best parts. But every day ye make your own decisions. Y’are the person you choose to be. At least that’s what my ma always told me.”

  Willa nodded her gratitude. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she turned away, changing the subject. “Why were you pouring milk on the ground? And what’s with all the flowers?”

  “’Tis Beltane tonight. The milk is a peace offering to the Little People, and the flowers are for protection. Ye can’t be too careful this night.” Gwyneth lowered her voice, looking around nervously. “Especially now. There’s somethin’ evil in the air.”

  “Evil?”

  “It’s just a feelin’ I’ve got. I’ve sent Loom to fetch me cousins, the elves. I’ll breathe easier when they arrive.” Gwyneth sat down wearily. “I’ve been sleepin’ poorly, I keep dreamin’ of a Green Man….”

  “Green Man?” Willa asked, startled. “Is his face made of leaves? And branches come out of his mouth?”

  “Aye,” replied Gwyneth in surprise. “How did ye know that?”

  “I’ve been dreaming about him for weeks!”

  “You too? Say …” Gwyneth was suddenly staring at her like she was a ghost.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Willa.

  “Dreams!” she gasped. “That’s where I’ve met ye before!”

  Willa nodded. “You’ve been in my dreams too.”

  Gwyneth shook her head in amazement. “But what can it mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Willa answered.

  Gwyneth led her to the woods. “The Green Man is not just in dreams. He’s also growin’ outta this vine.”

  �
�I know, I saw him the last time I came here,” Willa said. “And I saw a unicorn! He came right up to the well! It was amazing!”

  “Sure, he comes here often enough,” Gwyneth replied casually. “I’m always after chasin’ him out of my garden.”

  “I wish I lived in a place where unicorns were so common!” sighed Willa. They walked in silence to the clearing where the Green Man sat. He didn’t seem all that threatening in the daylight, with his head bowed and songbirds hopping about on his shoulders.

  “There’s another just like him back on my side,” said Willa, and Gwyneth’s violet eyes grew large. Willa filled her in on the recent growth of the vines and how they were invading the house.

  “The Green Men are connected, one t’other, by this,” said Gwyneth thoughtfully, lifting the vine off the ground with her foot. “What would happen if we were to cut it, do you suppose?”

  Willa thought for a moment. “I think this vine is what connects your time to mine. It may be anchoring the time hole in place at both ends. It connects the Green Men too, of course, but it’s also keeping the path open for me to come here.”

  Gwyneth let the vine fall and grinned at Willa. “Ah well, we’ll just leave it be then. For the moment.” Looking back at the giant figure, her face grew serious again. “The dreams are a warning, make no mistake. The Green Man does not come in peace.”

  “Oh!” Willa sat up suddenly as a memory flashed through her mind. “I had another dream last night! I’ll tell you … but not here.” She gestured to the trail, and they walked back together.

  Willa waited until they were at Gwyneth’s front door before she spoke again, her voice low. “A horse with red eyes always comes to warn me when the dark side is about to attack. I dreamed about him last night, I just remembered. He said …” Willa paused, remembering, then recited:

  “In weedy bog and sunken dream

  Doth grow the Man of darkling green.

  Ancient evil blocks the light,

  Entwining all in endless night.

  Exchange your arms ’ere dies the sun.