Nettle Blackthorn and the Three Wicked Sisters

by Winter Woodlark

Claudine gave a casual little shrug of her shoulders. “Who knows? We can only speculate. Revenge? A sacrifice of some sort? Some evil hex, perhaps?”

  “So they caught her?”

  There was something a little wistful in Claudine’s pout. “Yes, they did.”

  Nettle had vague recollections of the witch-hunts from her school studies. “Was she burned at the stake?”

  Claudine nodded. “Her bones, the only thing left of her besides her black ribbon, are buried here in Olde Town.”

  Nettle’s lips pursed in a silent ‘O’.

  Claudine’s mood changed swiftly, a smile playfully danced upon her lips. She slipped her arm around Nettle. “We should talk of other, more pleasant, things. Come, let’s tend to your wounds.”

  Nettle sat at a small table for two, tucked into the corner of the boutique, while Claudine cleaned her wounds and applied a lotion that smelt of lavender. They chatted and Nettle learned that even though Claudine was in charge of overseeing the business, her daily deliveries took her all over the village, so her younger sister Margot ran the front of the tea house while Dolcie, the youngest, was head chef.

  “And is Olde Town doing well?” Nettle hoped fervently it was. She liked the sound of an independently financial woman.

  “Exceedingly,” said Claudine with an inquisitive glance. Nettle knew she was wondering where this line of questioning was going. Perhaps she should have backed off, but she had an opening to the types of things she needed to know. Whoever her father was going to marry needed to meet the stringent guidelines she’d made earlier in the day.

  Nettle grinned. “Good, good. So are you seeing anyone… in particular?” She crossed her fingers behind her back. Somehow it seemed a long shot that this striking woman was going to be unattached.

  Claudine, shot the young girl a baffled look. “My, aren’t we curious.”

  Nettle shrugged apologetically, but refused to back down. “Just a little.”

  “No, I’m not seeing anyone, nor even dating.” Nettle almost blew out a huge sigh of relief. A moment later, her hopes were dashed. “I’m far too busy to even entertain the idea of dating someone.”

  “Oh,” said Nettle, her smile slipping.

  “Oh, well you know, I wouldn’t rule it out.” Claudine said with a playful glint in her eye. “I’m supposing you have someone in mind?”

  “Maybe,” the smile was back and hopeful. “What kind of husband are you looking for? Would you mind someone who already has a family, I mean kids, two in particular?” she expelled in a rush. Easy, she warned herself, don’t put her off.

  Claudine laughed, and once again she reminded Nettle of wind-chimes. “I haven’t much experience with children.”

  “Well, these kind of children are already raised,” appeased Nettle, “We - I mean they,” she corrected, grimacing slightly at her gaff, “wouldn’t need someone to raise them, they’ve already done that themselves. They’re more interested, in finding someone for their Dad.”

  “Oh are they indeed?” Claudine looked sideways at her in such a way that made Nettle blush. Ugh, am I that obvious?

  Claudine pressed a large plaster over Nettle’s wounded knee. Her leggings had been shredded, and she had two large exposed holes in either knee. “So where are you and your family staying? Calliope’s Bed and Breakfast, Spotted Pig Tavern, Deadheaded Rose’s Inn?”

  Nettle flexed her gouged palms, impressed by how quickly the stinging pain was receding due to the administration of Claudine’s lotion. This place really was magical. “Oh, we’re not staying in Olde Town.”

  Claudine looked up surprised. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Nettle didn’t even think before replying. “We’ve moved back to our old family home for a bit, its not far from here.”

  “Are you telling me you’re not part of one of our tours?” Claudine spoke so sharply, a bolt of nervous energy ran through Nettle. How could I be so stupid? She almost slapped her forehead at her own idiocy. She hadn’t even contemplated Olde Town might actually be an exclusive resort, off limits to anyone not booked into one of its tours. Claudine’s steely stare had a thunderous quality to it. She’d ruined it now.

  “I didn’t know… Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think… I just thought I’d come up for a look… I’m so, so sorry…”

  For a long moment, Claudine intently stared at Nettle, her delicate features taut. Then, she physically shook herself. With the tiny shudder, her mood changed and once more her gaze became warm and friendly. She smiled apologetically, “No, it is I who should apologise. You just took me by surprise. I had no idea there was anyone else living near Olde Town.”

  “Well, it’s just a little cottage, tucked into the Wilds,” Nettle answered, incredibly relieved, her father still had a chance with Miss Balfrey. “We haven’t lived there for years. We’d only just arrived back a few days ago.”

  Claudine bestowed a glorious smile. “So we’re neighbours then!”

  Nettle grinned, relaxing. “Guess we are.”

  Claudine bent down to tend to Nettle’s other bloodied knee. While she dabbed away the congealed blood, Nettle couldn’t help but gaze up at the picture of Lysette, until it finally dawned on her. She mentally berated herself. She really was a dolt. “She looks like my cousin,” she said, pleased to be able to find a new topic of conversation.

  “What, dear?” Claudine murmured while applying ointment.

  “Jasmine, or Jazz, as she likes to call herself,” Nettle explained, rolling her eyes at her cousin’s stupid nickname. “She’s staying with us until Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Mae find where their money went, or jobs, which couldn’t be sooner as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, Jazz looks like Lysette, the girl in the picture.”

  Claudine stopped what she was doing. Her sapphire eyes gazed up into Nettle’s as her girlish voice enounced each word clearly and carefully, “Your cousin, looks like Lysette?”

  Nettle nodded with a little shrug, “Somewhat. I mean not exactly, but there is something about her that resembles Lysette.”

  There was a long stretch of silence before Claudine excitedly called out to Pippa. “Go get Margot and Dolcie, and be quick about it.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Call to Festivities

  Claudine gently finished administering the last plaster to Nettle’s wounds, her pretty face animated. “You see, its All Hallows’ Eve in a week’s time. Every year we put on a wonderful festival celebrating Halloween. You’ll just love it. There’s a parade through town, fireworks, and a party with music and dancing and fabulous food. All our guests dress up in old fashioned outfits and masks. It’s a wondrous night.”

  Just at that moment Pippa reappeared along with two beautiful women. They had to be Claudine’s sisters, Margot and Dolcie, who were about the same height as one another. Dolcie, the youngest, had curly auburn hair piled up in an untidy bun, and a creamy complexion. She wore a yellow apron, dusty with flour, reminiscent of the milking girls of old, with their frilly white blouses, ample bosoms and comely smiles.

  The sisters glanced Nettle’s way with mild curiosity and while Margot smiled pleasantly, Nettle could tell she was distracted with the busy dining room behind her. Margot was angular in features, her face longer and more sharply honed than the other two. Her shiny bronze hair cascaded over her back, in silky waves.

  Dolcie looked stressed and vexed. She was thwacking a big wooden spoon against her thigh. “What is it Claudie? I’m crunched for time.”

  Claudine ignored her sister’s tone and gave both sisters a winning smile. “Margot, Dolcie, I want to introduce you to Nettle Blackthorn. We met this afternoon.”

  Nettle bristled at the flash of irritation in Dolcie’s gaze as her doe-brown eyes settled upon her, scrutinizing her face. She heaved a sardonic groan. “We are exceedingly busy. If you haven’t remembered Claudie, we are running out of time. All Hallows’ Eve is nearly upon us, and you still haven’t found-”

  “Yes - yes,” interrupted Claudine, refusing to
be baited by her sister’s condemning tone. “I do remember, I’m the one putting it all together.” She sighed. “Please forgive us,” she said softly to Nettle, while sending her sister a reproachful look. “We’re just under a lot of pressure organizing the festivities. This year, it’s not quite going to plan.”

  Dolcie looked away, a surly pout on her lips, and grumbled, “Like the last, and the year before that, and the year before that...”

  “Well it won’t be my fault if we don’t,” Margot replied giving her little sister a severe glance. The woman’s posture was regal and reminded Nettle of the Hollywood starlets of old like Rita Hayworth or Maureen O’Hara.

  “Really?” Dolcie drawled, obviously disagreeing with her sisters opinion of her own endeavour.

  Margot ignored her. “We can’t afford to wait another year.”

  “No, we can’t,” Claudine agreed with a fierce look. Nettle could see she was more than annoyed with her younger sibling. She paused, collected herself and smiled once more, her voice soft and charming. “Yes, well, this piece of news might bolster you for the moment. It’s rather pleasant to receive positive news, for once.”

  The sisters looked upon Claudine with an inquisitive expectation. Claudine arched an eyebrow and gave a impish half-smile. “This young girl is from the Wilds.”

  Both sisters were instantly astounded.

  “Pardon?” asked Dolcie, “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  Nettle had Margot’s full attention. Her caramel eyes narrowed and Nettle felt small and insignificant under her inquiring gaze. Her voice was iron. “How on earth did you find us here? Or even enter?”

  Nettle shrivelled beneath her stare, her heart sinking. Claudine’s younger sisters weren’t exactly warming to her. Still, if they were under the kind of pressure as they claimed, she could forgive them for their cool hostility.

  Claudine held up her hand, “I’ve already spoken to her about this. She was completely unaware this was private property.”

  “But still… how?” Margot wasn’t addressing Nettle, she’d turned the question over to her older sister.

  Claudine gave a disinterested shrug. “It matters not. What does matter, is what she has to say.”

  The sisters turned their gaze upon Nettle. Under their concerted study Nettle felt her mouth grow sand-like and when she opened her mouth to speak her voice was raspy and nonsensically ambiguous as she tried to answer. “Jazz... pretty... long, long, long hair... really long hair... and so pretty...” A warmth surged through her cheeks at her ridiculous babble.

  Claudine took over to Nettle’s relief. “Nettle was telling me an interesting fact about her cousin… Jasmine?” Claudine looked to Nettle for confirmation and received a nod. She carried on and a smug smile tugged at her lips. “Jasmine, apparently, resembles our Lysette.”

  With that delicious drop of information, a flurry of excited chatter erupted from Dolcie. She waved a finger at Claudine and pranced about on the spot, her bosoms wobbling. “I told you so! I told you it will all work out.” She turned to Margot, with a pleased-as-punch expression, completely forgetting she was the one full of cynicism less than a minute ago. “Didn’t I? Wasn’t I the one to make it happen?”

  “Yes, Dolcie,” Claudine interjected with a tight-lipped smile and a pointed look Nettle’s way. “I think perhaps this... gloating, should be kept for another time.”

  “You didn’t think I could do it,” goaded Dolcie.

  “It’s not that I didn’t believe you,” sighed Claudine. “I merely thought it wouldn’t eventuate in time.”

  “What wouldn’t eventuate?” asked Nettle, curious, and utterly pleased her speech had returned.

  All three sister turned to her, startled. While Claudine looked surprised she’d interrupted, Dolcie and Margot were eyeing her suspiciously. Nettle inwardly groaned, she was making a mess of it again. She needed the sisters - all of the sisters - to like her if there was any chance for her father with Claudine.

  “This year,” explained Claudine with a heavy stage whisper, “we have quite the performance for our visitors.” She glanced over her shoulder as if she didn’t want her diners to overhear and spoil their surprise. “We are re-enacting Lysette the Black’s execution.”

  Nettle drew back, blinking. “You mean, her burning at the stake?” A shudder ran through her, it sounded horribly morbid. Bram, no doubt, will love it.

  Claudine waved her hand, brushing aside the macabre impression of the idea. “Oh it all will be tastefully done and a lot of fun. We’ve been wanting to put this on for years, but it’s quite an elaborate performance. And we thought,” answered Claudine with an askew glance at her two younger sisters. “We might not ever find someone who looks like Lysette.”

  “We do have a girl lined up to play Lysette’s part,” Dolcie interjected. “But even with a wig and a heavy attempt with make-up to disguise her, she’ll never, ever, even slightly resemble our Lysette.” She gave Claudine a look as if she blamed her eldest sister for that. “But if your cousin Jazz does…”

  “Yes, if she does. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” reminded Claudine. “We don’t even know if this cousin -”

  Nettle jumped at the chance. Her nerves were afire with excitement. “You could,” she began, interrupting Claudine, and trying her best to sound casual. “Come to our place tomorrow to meet Jazz,” addressing this bit pointedly to only Claudine. “Maybe she’d consider being Lysette for your festivities.” Nettle knew she would. Jazz, self-centred to the core, adored the limelight.

  “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

  Margot and Dolcie looked at their sister in surprise. It was Margot who protested. “But Claudie, we have too much work to do, to squander time in this fashion. Can’t we just mak-”

  Before Margot could finish, Claudine quickly lost patience with her sisters and snapped, “We haven’t met anyone else living in the forest before. I at least, am curious.”

  “So yet again, we are the ones doing all the work,” griped Dolcie.

  Nettle squirmed, a little uncomfortable to be in the midst of the sisters’ disagreement. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have suggested it if I’d known you were so busy.”

  “Oh, no,” objected Claudine. “It’s nothing my sister’s cannot handle on their own,” sweeping a pointed glance at her siblings. “And as I recall, we’re all behind schedule.”

  Dolcie looked contrite, and embarrassment flushed her milky cheeks pink. “Yes, you’re right Claudie.”

  “Of course I’m right.” But she softened her tone as she gave her youngest sister a proud smile. “And thanks to you, tomorrow we will at least have one important piece in place for All Hallows’ Eve.” Dolcie smirked at Margot in a told-you-so fashion. Margot crossed her arms and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Besides,” Claudine continued. “I have a feeling meeting Nettle is no fortuitous incident. Who knows what else, or who else, she may charm for us.” Claudine turned her smile upon Nettle and held her gaze. “And I’d be delighted to make the acquaintance of your father and family. And of course, meet your cousin.”

  Nettle grinned, secretly congratulating herself. Bram’s going to fall in love with Claudine as much as I have. And she was positive there was no way her father could not help but become captivated with someone so enchanting as Claudine.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Thicket

  Jazz had run for some distance along the gloomy forest path, her mind filled with vengeance. She was contemplating hacking Nettle’s hair off and destroying all of Bram’s precious books; driving the motor-home over their bikes; and sabotaging their school-work so they failed the entire school year. She considered all options, rather thoroughly, a malicious grin plastered over her face as she savoured the carnage, imagining Nettle scalped and crumpled in a heap on the ground, begging for forgiveness. They are going to pay dearly for what they’ve done to me!

  At first the path cut in a straight line through the forest, but after a time it
narrowed as it began to lazily meander up and down with slight rises, taking Jazz on a tour of gentle curves and sharp bends through the dark foreboding forest. Jazz puffed, her sweaty face blotchy, pushing herself harder than any other training session, when she abruptly came upon a hedge blocking the path.

  Jazz tried to skid to a halt and failed. She slammed right into the thick wall of prickles. Hundreds of barbs and needles and thorns pierced her skin.

  She shrieked.

  A startled flock of birds rose into the air, squawking at the disturbance.

  Jazz was stuck fast, like a fly on a sticky strip of yellowed paper. She struggled, to no avail, yowling in frustration. It felt like her entire body was covered in tiny paper-cuts. The kind that stung worse than a knife cut. Her clothing was caught and for one brief moment she was relieved to be scalped, as her hair would have also been ensnared like it once had been when she was six, wrapped around a hair-brush’s barrel so tightly the only way to free it, was to cut it. Her nanny had been fired for that, and rightly so.

  Jazz’s anger flared - this is all her cousins’ fault! If those brats hadn’t cut all her hair off, she wouldn’t be here, stuck in a hedge of all places. Would they even find me? Probably not. Probably wouldn’t even care to go looking for her. What if she was stuck here for days? Weeks? How utterly stupid would it be to die out here! Jazz’s antagonism burned. Stuck in a stupid hedge! Her rage turned against the prickles and thorns and needles and barbs and spikes and spines digging into her flesh. She wrestled not caring about the pain, her fury spurning her on. She bellowed, shrieking and screaming, completely enraged at the hedge. “I’M GOING TO BURN YOU TO THE GROUND! HACK YOU TO PIECES! POISON YOU AT THE ROOTS!”

  She prised herself free from the vicious spikes and drew nasty cuts across her forearms. Her entire body was dotted and scratched all over with thin weeping wounds where the thorns had pricked her flesh. Jazz leaned over, her hands pressed against her thighs while her hammering heart rate settled. She stung all over. But she was free.