by Kim Thompson
“It’s a Beltane ritual,” Baz explained. “Circle the Beltane flame in a sunwise direction for luck and protection in the coming year.” Willa immediately fell into step beside her and did one circuit before going to sit beside her mom. To her surprise, Belle wheeled up next to them.
“Time is a sneak, and a thief,” she began haltingly. “And time moves quickly for mermaids. It flies by.” A long pause followed. “I did come back,” she said finally.
Willa’s mom tilted her head, interested. Belle stared into the fire.
“I was drawn back, and … I was a foolish young thing. I thought I’d been away just a few weeks.” Belle struggled with the words. It was like she was pulling them up from a deep, deep well. “I came to your window one night and looked in, expecting to see a little child, my little child, but instead I saw a young woman. A stranger. And I knew …” she looked down at her hands, “… I knew it was too late.”
Willa’s mom was watching her closely, and at last Belle looked up, her eyes dry but rimmed with red. “It was too late, and there was nothing I could do that would be any good to you. You became the person you chose to be all by yourself. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” breathed her mom, and she reached up to give Belle’s hand a squeeze. “I would have liked the chance to know you.”
Belle made a face. “It wouldn’t have been a picnic, let me tell you. I would have driven you crazy.” She looked at them archly. “Mermaids are a real pain in the neck, if you haven’t figured that out already.”
They shared a smile. “Except for this one,” Belle added, pointing to Willa. “She’s a gem. You’ve done a good job with her.”
Mom gave Willa a squeeze. “Oh, I can’t take any credit for Willa. She’s chosen her own path, like I did.”
“All right.” Willa stood up, grinning. “I’ll leave you two to talk about how wonderful I am. I want to make sure time has gone back to normal.”
She stepped out through the front gate and glanced up and down the dark street. It was so quiet and still, she was afraid time had stopped again, until finally a car drove past at a reassuringly normal speed.
Turning back, her eye was caught by the glow of another bonfire down the street, in the Nortons’ front yard. She could see several figures large and small circling the flames. She strained to pick out Jake’s figure among them. The Nortons celebrate Beltane? There seemed no end to the mysteries around her, no end to her questions. Nothing was ever completely explained, and nothing was ever quite finished. She smiled. As it should be, I suppose.
Willa wandered thoughtfully back to the pool, where Tengu stood atop the floating body of the Green Man, merrily chopping its head off, and the basilisk watched from the pool’s edge. Tengu took a final swing with his axe, and the head floated free, slowly rotating until the face emerged from the water.
The head gently bumped against the side of the pool at Willa’s feet. The life was gone from it now; the eyes were empty sockets, and the mouth was shrivelling up as Willa watched. She leaned closer to make sure the opening closed up for good.
Suddenly, spindly legs emerged from the mouth, and something black exploded into her face. Willa screamed and fell backward. Hairy legs clambered over her face and off into the grass.
“Tabitha’s back!” Willa called, craning around to see where she went. After a moment there was another screech, this time from Mab.
“The yarn!” she howled. “Stop her!” Tabitha shot across the grass, with one leg curled around the ball of yarn and the scarf dragging along behind. Baz pounced and caught the scarf in her teeth, but Tabitha snipped the yarn and left the scarf behind. Tengu lunged at her, but she dodged and weaved, slipping also through Roshni’s claws as the bird hopped after her. As the spider sped toward the pool, Willa made a last desperate dive, but as she hit the ground the spider sprang into the air, alighting briefly on top of Willa’s head before leaping out over the water to land on the Green Man’s head. She skittered over to the small sliver that remained of the mouth. There she paused and with a triumphant smirk held up the tiny ball of yarn for Willa to see.
“Finders keepers,” she hissed.
There was a soft cluck at Willa’s ear, and the spider’s eyes widened, then washed over with grey. It was like she had frosted over, and it took a moment for Willa to realize that Tabitha had turned to stone. She heard another soft cluck. The basilisk sat beside Willa in the grass, calmly preening itself.
“Thanks,” she said weakly, and the basilisk clucked back. Mab flew up and yanked the ball of yarn from the spider’s petrified grasp.
“I’ll bet you even lied about winning the Woodland Textile Expo eight times in a row, you monster!” she snarled, giving the stone spider a kick with her dainty foot.
The spider “statue” was put to good use. The two front legs were raised at a perfect angle for wrapping yarn around in preparation for knitting. Tabitha now sat at the centre of the mantle, holding Mab’s yarn as the fairy knitted out the peaceful days to come for Eldritch Manor.
Until the next time.
In the Same Series
Eldritch Manor
Kim Thompson
Twelve-year-old Willa Fuller is convinced that the old folks in the shabby boarding house down the street are prisoners of their sinister landlady, Miss Trang. Only when Willa is hired on as housekeeper does she discover the truth, which is far more fascinating.
Eldritch Manor is a retirement home for some very strange beings indeed. All have stories to tell — and petty grievances with one another and the world at large.
Storm clouds are on the horizon, however, and when Miss Trang departs on urgent business, Willa is left to babysit the cantankerous bunch. Can she keep the oldsters in line, stitch up unravelling time, and repel an all-out attack from the forces of darkness … all while keeping the nosy neighbours out of their business and uncovering a startling secret about her own past?
Shadow Wrack
Kim Thompson
Can Willa rally her supernatural friends to defeat an invasion from beyond?
After battling and defeating the forces of darkness, Willa is looking forward to a little well-earned peace and quiet. Unfortunately, her recent adventures have given birth to new problems, not the least of which is the task of rebuilding Eldritch Manor, a retirement home for supernatural beings, from the ground up. And no one is behaving themselves: Mab’s fairies have declared war on the dwarf construction crew, Willa’s Mom and Belle are feuding, Baz is running amok, Horace is living in the woods, the phoenix squawks all night long, and there’s never a dragon around when you need one. To be perfectly honest, Willa is starting to think the forces of darkness were easier to handle than her family and friends — until those forces start to rise again!
Copyright © Kim Thompson, 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Thompson, Kim, 1964-, author
Darkling green / Kim Thompson.
(The Eldritch Manor series)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-3622-1 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-4597-3623-8 (pdf).--
ISBN 978-1-4597-3624-5 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8639.H62676D37 2016 jC813’.6 C2016-902729-5
C2016-902730-9
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the O
ntario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and the Government of Canada.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.