by Terry Griggs
Not that she was jumping for joy. No one was. Lias gazed at her in a steady, thoughtful way, eyes as cool as Mr. Mustard Seed’s, and nodded, as if nothing she’d revealed had surprised him. Gran was regarding her with a mixture of pride, concern, and resolve.
“Nieve,” she said quietly, “do you remember what I once told you your name means?”
“Yes. You said it means ‘fist.’” Nieve now made a firm fist with her right hand and held it up.
Gran smiled, “That’s right, pet. Don’t forget it.”
“You are a gyre carline,” added Lias.
“I’m not a . . . what did you call me?”
“A carline.”
“And what’s that supposed to be?”
“A hag.”
“I am not a hag.” Her fist was still clenched.
“Och, Nievy.” Gran said, pouring more tea. “But you are.”
–Thirteen–
Two Pairs of Shoes
Admittedly, Nieve was taken aback, but then she had to laugh. Gran and Lias were watching her with such solemn expressions, as if they weren’t joking.
“Gran,” she said, snatching up a strawberry tart. “That’s not very nice! I thought you didn’t go in for name-calling.”
“I don’t, hen. Hag has more meanings than you realize. “Megrim” might be a better word.”
“Meaning?”
“Let’s just say that I think you have a drop of something unusual in your blood, something . . . out of the ordinary.”
Nieve sighed. Here we go, she thought. “Gran, really. Things are weird enough without this, aren’t they?”
“And will get weirder,” said Lias.
“Why do you think you’ve gone unharmed so far, dear?”
“Because of Artichoke, and because I can run, like Lias said.” This was the first time she’d referred to him by name, and in doing so she noticed that he was watching her very closely.
“Aye, pet, you can run, and it’s a good thing. But you have other . . . abilities, as they well know. Whatever followed you the night you came to see me, the night I was away, I doubt it was Artichoke.”
“Okay, what abilities?”
“That remains to be seen. Outside of your fierce-eye, that is.”
“Right.” The last thing Nieve wanted to do was hurt Gran’s feelings, but she was starting to get annoyed.
“Grandmother, does she not know that you’re a Cunning Woman?”
Enough of this! “She’s not cunning and she’s not your grandmother.”
“Nieve, anyone may call me ‘grandmother,’ it’s a custom in the Old Country.” She sipped her tea. “Cunning Folk are simply healers. Like Dr. Morys, only dabbling in different cures and wares.”
“They do more than that,” said Lias.
“True, but I’m not much of one. Your great-grandmother Nievy, was a great one though, and your mother could be if she weren’t so busy getting herself into trouble, serious trouble by the sounds of it.” Gran set her teacup in its saucer with deliberate care. She and Sophie had never gotten along particularly well. “Nieve, you have to help her. Your father, too, and Mayor Mary–” she stopped and reached over to take Nieve’s hand. “I know it’s too much, too much to take in altogether, but we need to decide what to do.”
Nieve responded by nodding dumbly. Of course she’d help, she’d do everything she could, but she still didn’t understand what Gran was getting at.
“Are you telling me that I’ve inherited some kind of, I don’t know . . . witch gene?”
Gran smiled, and squeezed her hand before letting go. “This isn’t a fairy story, hen. It’s real.”
“But no less dark,” added Lias.
Nieve certainly felt as though she were fumbling around in the dark. “Dunstan Warlock, it has something to do with him, right?”
“Fat nuisance.” Gran snorted. “Which doesn’t make him any less dangerous. Meddling where he shouldn’t be. ”
“That woman who tried to catch me?” If anyone was a witch, it was her.
“A nightborn thing,” said Lias, scowling.
“It’s true,” said Gran. “These creatures, they arrive with the darkness of night and soon there’s nothing but darkness and night.”
“Cold, too.” Lias shifted closer to the fire.
“Aye, no sun, no life.”
“But where do they come from?” said Nieve.
“Some might say the Old Country. That Gowl you saw tonight sounds very like a Bloody Bones to me. Very like, but they can take different forms and are just as much a part of this world. The order of nature is upset and they creep in through the cracks.”
“How? I don’t see how that can happen.”
“Greed, cruelty, stupidity . . .”
Nieve tried not to look as skeptical as she felt. Those were bad things, sure, but unfortunately always present. She did read the newspaper, she knew what went on in the world. Given the amount of stupidity she’d witnessed in the schoolyard alone, the town should have been crawling with supernatural vermin long before now.
“Singular acts spring open dark doors. Like Mortimer Twisden doing away with his wife so that he could marry that young woman from the city.”
Nieve caught her breath.
“It’s an ongoing struggle, pet. James and I have worked together for years, as have others, to keep them in check.”
“And now Dr. Morys is–?”
“Gone.”
“No!”
“Not dead, thank the heavens. Not that I know of, and I’m certain I would know if he were. He’s missing. Stolen out of his hospital bed right under everyone’s noses, including mine. I spent two days at his bedside working every charm in the book, but Jim was too far away, too far under. In spirit at least, and now they have his body as well. I stepped out to buy a sandwich – ten minutes gone, ten! – and when I got back the nurses were running from room to room in search of him.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. He’s in a coma, he can’t tell them anything, or do anything. He’s–”
“Useless? Harmless? I’m not so sure. They wouldn’t have taken him otherwise. The only thing I know is that we have to find him. For both his sake and ours.” Gran regarded her calmly, but pointedly, blinking a couple of times before letting her gaze drift over to Artichoke. “Forfared, poor pup. He won’t be able to go with you, I’m afraid.”
“Gran?”
“Lias will, though.”
“Not if she wallops me again, I won’t.”
Nieve groaned inwardly. So much for them deciding what to do. Gran had already decided. How was she – a kid – supposed to find Dr. Morys? It was so dark out, pitch black in case no one had noticed, that she’d be lucky to find her own feet once she stepped out the door. Besides, Dr. Morys had gone missing in the city, not in town. She’d been to the city lots of times with her parents – to the museum and the mall and the dentist (fun) – but she’d always found it overwhelming. The buildings towered; the streets were clogged with traffic; people hustled past you on the street, their faces tight with worry. If that wasn’t bad enough, Gran was now telling them that parts of the city were still without electricity following that fierce storm.
“The hospital is using generators, but much of the city remains in darkness. You two will have to be extremely careful.”
“This is nuts,” Nieve said.
“Oh, it is! Frightening besides, and desperate, and I’m asking my own beloved granddaughter to be involved.”
“Are you asking?”
“I am, hen. Because you’re more capable than you know.”
“And because there’s no choice,” Lias said.
“That too,” admitted Gran.
No one said anything for a few moments, until Nieve, brushing the crumbs off her shirt, asked, “Will you look after Mr. Mustard Seed for me?” She felt a stab of worry for having left him in the house with that truant officer crashing around.
“I will. Mr. Mustard Seed and Artichoke both.
Don’t think I’m going to send you two off empty-handed, either.”
“We could use another bee box, a really big one.” Nieve wasn’t serious, although she did suspect that whatever Gran had in mind – blue string or a gold thimble or a stone with a hole in its centre – would be well-meant, but not helpful at all.
Gran stood and began to rummage in the pocket of her baggy old cardigan. “Now that’s a mystery. What that box was, what those beasties were. Firebees? Is there such a thing? Professor Manning, remember, the one who owned the place before Twisden, he’s a biologist, retired. I suspect he may have been doing some experiments, crossbreeding, not the sort of thing I approve of but . . . where is that–?” She had plunged her hand into the very depths of her pocket. “Ah, found it.” She retrieved a tiny silver canister, which she offered to Lias. “Fern seeds.”
Great, Nieve sighed, fern seeds.
Lias, however, accepted the seeds with a surprised smile and slid the canister into a pouch that was attached to his rope-belt.
“You have your amulet, Lias?”
He nodded toward a cloak that was tossed over a kitchen chair. Nieve noted a small pewter brooch pinned on the wool, and thought, I guess we can take on anything now.
“I’ll see if I can find you a clean shirt,” said Gran. “But first, I want you to try something.” She hurried into her bedroom and came back carrying a box, which she handed to Lias. “A present. Brought these back from the city.”
Lias seemed more alarmed than delighted. “Never had a present.” He lifted the lid cautiously, as though this were another bee box, and stared hard at the contents. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t manage anything more than a soft intake of breath.
Nieve leaned over and peeked in.
“Running shoes,” she said. “Pretty flashy.” Gran had gone all out – cushioned mesh, gel soles, lightning-bolt appliques. “Why don’t you try them on?” She didn’t add, that way I won’t have to look at your gross feet.
“How?”
Never had a present? Never had shoes? “Who are you?” she said.
“Later for that, Nievy.” Gran was already crouched in front of Lias like a saleswoman, helping him to pull on a pair of socks that were also in the box, and then the runners. “There! Perfect fit. They’ll take some getting used to, dear. But you’ll want to keep up with Nieve, won’t you?”
“That I will.” Lias jumped to his feet and began bouncing a bit, gazing down at his new shoes, entranced. “It’s like wearing fancy cakes.” He trotted to one end of the room and back, raising his legs high, like a pony. “They’re . . . magic!”
“No, no,” Gran laughed. “They’re only shoes, Lias. Although I do have a special pair for Nieve. Her present.”
“I already have runners.” Nieve indicated the ones by the fire that were getting crustier by the minute as they dried.
“They won’t do.”
Gran moved over to the fireplace and reached up, pushing aside an old clock that had sat on the mantel for as long as Nieve could remember, its hands stopped at midnight. Nieve saw that the clock had been hiding a narrow cavity in the wall which appeared to be stuffed with brown paper, probably to keep out drafts. Or, knowing Gran, to keep out evil spirits. Gran tugged at the paper, winkling out first one piece, then another. These two tattered segments she held up, one in each hand. Nieve realized then that they were supposed to be shoes, or slippers maybe, thin and flat. Nor were they made of paper, but dried leaves. They might easily have been two ancient squashed cigars, so old and delicate that if anyone sneezed on them they’d blow them to bits. Yet Gran was smiling broadly as she held them up, as if she were holding the greatest treasure on earth.
“Nievy,” she said, “now these are magic.”
–Fourteen–
Night Sight
Nieve refused to wear the shoes, shaking her head adamantly as she tied the laces on her runners. Knowing that Gran wouldn’t let her through the door without them, though, she did agree to take them along.
“You’ll be glad of them when the time comes,” Gran finally said, knowing herself that Nieve could only be pushed so far.
They’d been standing in stubborn silence listening to the mantel clock, which had unaccountably begun ticking – loudly, adding its two cents worth – the moment she was handed the shoes.
Nieve gave her grandmother what she hoped was a grateful smile as she folded the shoes carefully and slid one into each of her back pockets. If the time should come when she needed them (it was hard to imagine), and if she recognized it when it did, she was certain that the shoes by then would be nothing but broken leaf bits and dust.
Lias emerged from Gran’s bedroom wearing one of her old blouses under his tunic and not embarrassed at all about it. Again, Nieve had to wonder who he was – certainly no boy she knew would have been caught dead in a woman’s blouse, except maybe on Halloween. Which this night was beginning to resemble more and more. Only a Halloween with real terrors and no treats.
“Your arm?” Gran asked him.
“Better thanks, Grandmother.” Touching his swollen jaw lightly, as if adding, and no thanks to her, he said, “I suppose I’ll have to lead her by the hand?”
“What do you mean?” Nieve started to ball up her fist.
“You’ll be blind as a grub out there.”
“And you won’t be?”
“Course not.” He grinned at her, then gave a little hoot, like an owl.
“Don’t tease, Lias,” said Gran. “Remember, you two are going to have to get along. He can see in the dark, Nieve. Some call it night eye. He can mine the dark for the tiniest speck of light and use it to see with.”
Not likely, she wanted to say, but had in fact read about this. It was an ability that nocturnal animals had. She’d been interested in how it worked for Mr. Mustard Seed, how an extra layer of cells behind the retinas made his eyes glow with reflected light, and had spent some time trying to examine them. This prompted her to step closer to Lias for a better look at his eyes. Did they have vertical slits?
He danced away from her. “Don’t you give me a blasting.”
“Or a bashing?” Her turn to grin. “Better watch it then. Gran, do you have a flashlight I can borrow? Lost mine at Ferrets.”
“No, sorry hen.”
“But how–?”
“I’ve something better.”
Nieve grimaced. Please, no more amulets and charms.
Gran dug into her cardigan pocket again, even deeper this time, and pulled out an azure glass bottle capped with a dropper. She held the bottle up and tilted it back and forth to check how much remained of the silvery liquid within. “Only a smidge left, but enough to do the trick.”
Nieve grimaced even more. “That stuff isn’t going into my eyes.”
“Ah, but Nievy, one drop in each eye and you’ll be able to see in the dark, too. It won’t be bright, not like daylight, but it works well. Will seem as if everything is bathed in moonlight.”
Nieve hesitated.
“Or I could hold your hand the whole way,” Lias offered.
“Put them in, Gran.”
Would the drops work? She very much doubted it, but she’d never convince them if she didn’t try. Nieve tilted her head back and gazed at the ceiling (not a cobweb to be seen), while Gran administered the drops – one, two, easy as pie. Easy except for feeling as though someone had dropped a pie into her face, blinding her with crumbs and sugary grit and globs of lard. Her eyes stung and watered and she couldn’t see a thing.
“Don’t rub them.” Gran patted her arm. “They’ll be fine in a tick.”
True enough, Nieve blinked and blinked until her eyelids began to feel oddly slippery, and then her vision became blurry, and then, as if she’d suddenly emerged from underwater, she could see clearly again. Everything in the room looked exactly the same. The drops hadn’t done a thing.
She marched over to the window, and leaning close to the glass, nose almost touching it, looked out in
to the black night. “Oh!” She craned her neck, gazing upward to see if the moon had come out. “Holy smokes.” No moon, but the moon’s silvery light seemed to be everywhere she cast an eye, illuminating the path that led up to the cottage, the stand of birches off to the right, the sundial on the left.
“This is so cool.” She didn’t even try to suppress the excitement in her voice.
“It is, Nievy. But it will only last so long. You and Lias will need to act as quickly as possible.”
As if backing her up, the clock on the mantel struck a few insistent notes on the quarter hour.
“But how?” Nieve returned from the window. “How are we supposed to get to the city? How are we supposed to find Dr. Morys even if we do get there? And why us? I don’t get it, I don’t get any of it.”
“It’s not easy to get, Nievy. My thinking that you’re the ones for this, it’s only a hunch, but a strong one. I could be wrong, mind, although I pray that I’m not. As for how you’ll get on when you arrive, well, you’ll have to follow your nose, I’m afraid.”
“Noses,” said Lias.
“Noses, right you are. I know that doesn’t sound very . . .”
“Helpful?” said Nieve.
“Aye, not helpful at all. But I have faith in you, faith in you both. If things start to go amiss, get word to me. Lias knows how. As for getting there, I’ve arranged a ride. A ride to the hospital, that’s the place to start.”