by A W Hartoin
“That didn’t take as long as I thought,” said Marie.
“No kidding,” said Gerald. “We must’ve been going a hundred miles an hour.”
“One hundred five, smarty pants,” said Marie. “Hold on to your hats.”
“Saints preserve us,” shouted Sarah.
“Calm down, old lady.”
“Old lady? You’re an old lady, too, or have you forgotten? You should be driving an Oldsmobile.”
“Oldsmobile? Car and Driver said they stink,” said Marie.
“You rock, Miss Marie,” said Judd.
“I do indeed rock, young man. And I will teach you to drive.”
“Awesome.”
Sarah dropped the flat box. “Please, Marie. Rebecca will never forgive me if something happens to these kids.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Not on the gravel anyway. Do you really think I’d risk dinging my paint job?”
“I wish it were gravel all the way then,” said Iris.
Marie winked at Iris and drove onto the gravel road. I watched as the trees went by and admired the fall colors that had come out strongly in the days since we’d been gone. Yellows shone more brightly than I remembered. The burnished reds deeper and more beautiful.
I waved to Iris and Gerald. Iris waved back, but Gerald stared straight ahead. I watched him for a moment and then turned back to the road, holding my breath and waiting for Whipplethorn Manor to come into view. But it didn’t. Marie drove up into a little clearing and parked next to an enormous bare spot surrounded by piles of scrap wood and a scattering of slate tiles.
“Oh, no,” said Sarah.
Iris flew up. “What is it?” She spun around frantically, looking out the windows. “Where is it?”
“It’s gone,” said Sarah. “We’re too late.”
Gerald buried his face in his hands. Iris hovered above Gerald, her face blank. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
I held out my arms to Iris, but my little sister darted past me. She ran over the shelf and put her hands against the glass. My face got all tingly and hot. Whipplethorn Manor was gone. Nothing was left except a few moldy scraps of wood and rubble.
It made sense. The humans were taking all the beautiful woodwork, everything of value. Of course they would knock down the old, decrepit building. Despite the logic of it, I expected Whipplethorn to still be there, standing stately against the pines of the dark forest. Now nothing would be the same ever again.
Iris turned. Tears streamed down her face, rivers of pain. “What happened to Mom and Dad?”
“Out looking for us, I expect.” I gathered Iris into my arms and let her sob against my shoulder.
“May as well get out,” said Marie. “Someone might be left.”
Sarah opened her door and waved us out. Iris went first. Her wing beats slow. I expected her to drop to the ground immediately, but instead she fluttered over to the bare spot and landed in the dirt. I followed, dimly aware of the humans coming up behind us. The air teased me with its familiar smells. The pine trees somehow managed to smell both sticky and green. A blustery wind kicked up the dirt. It pelted against Iris, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She stood in the bare patch with shaking shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Did you know?” asked Iris.
“No, but it makes sense that they were going to tear it down.”
“Maybe if we got back sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. We just would’ve seen it happening. I’m glad we weren’t here.”
“Me, too, I guess.”
Tess walked past them, holding the little white box. “Fairies. Are you still here? We have your kids. Come out.”
Iris lifted her head. “Don’t bother. If they were here, they would already have heard us and come out.”
“Why don’t you listen and see if you can hear them?” said Sarah.
Iris and Gerald closed their eyes and listened. After a few minutes, a tear slipped down Iris’s cheek.
“No one’s here,” she said.
Gerald nodded and put his arm around Iris’s shoulder. “We’ll find them.”
“We may as well go.” Marie straightened her hat as she glanced at the bare spot. “No use crying over spilt milk. We’ll find your parents. They’re just not here is all.”
“Does that mean you’ll drive at a reasonable speed on the way home?” asked Sarah.
“Not hardly.” Marie snorted.
We stood together, huddling in the middle of the bare spot. Tess’s face was fixed in a furious pout. At first, I thought she was angry, but then I saw Tess trembling. Sarah had her arm around her great-granddaughter, her face ashen, her red lips a slash of color in a dreary portrait.
“Don’t look so upset,” said Gerald. “This only means they’ve gone looking for us. Isn’t that right, Matilda?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“That’s the spirit,” said Marie. “Speaking of spirits, I could use a drink. Let’s go find a liquor store. A disappointment this great calls for vodka and cranberry juice.”
Sarah smiled. “Oh Marie, you are bad.”
“Thank you, my dear. Let’s hit it.”
CHAPTER 24
MARIE’S hands rested on the steering wheel. She fidgeted with the numerous rings gracing her fingers. She spun a large ruby one around her index finger until she abruptly reached down and turned a silver key behind the wheel. The car rumbled to life. The car started to roll backwards. Easy started crying, waking Horc up from a snooze.
“What’s happening?” Horc stretched and yawned, his teeth glinting in the dim light.
“We’re leaving. We have to get Tess and Judd home before their mother has a fit,” said Sarah.
“Mom will understand,” said Tess.
“I’m sure she’ll be very understanding about a quest to find missing fairy parents,” said Marie with her eyes fixed on the mirror atop the window. She executed a quick turn and the car began creeping over the gravel back the way we’d come.
Horc crawled over to Easy, looked at his heaving back, and patted it. He glanced up at me for approval. I nodded and forced a smile. I wasn’t thinking about Easy or Iris or even my parents in those long moments crunching over gravel. Whipplethorn Manor had disappeared. Nothing I did would make it come back again. I couldn’t fly hard enough or do good enough to change it.
“Thank goodness,” said Marie. “The end of that gosh darn gravel.”
The gravel ended in another twenty feet and merged with dull blacktop. Marie’s rings clinked together as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel and my shoulders tensed, ready for speed. Soon we’d be heading away from Whipplethorn at a breakneck pace. My heart sank a little farther to think of it.
I checked to see if the babies were ready for a burst of speed and saw Easy’s head pop up out of the batting. Horc stopped patting him and jerked his head up to look at the window. He seemed to see something in the distance. I followed his gaze. I saw nothing but lengthening shadows and an endless stretch of road.
“Stop,” shouted Iris.
The car jolted to a halt as it rolled onto the blacktop. I tumbled off Marie’s shoulder and landed in her soft lap. Iris grabbed my hand and yanked me into the air. We flew straight up and landed on the top of the steering wheel.
“Look!” shouted Iris.
In the distance, a tiny sparkling jewel headed straight at us, moving with incredible speed. A second later, Easy’s mother was pressed against the glass, her arms spread wide. Her face held such a beatific expression of joy, I sucked in my breath at the sight of it.
“Open the window, Gram,” Tess cried.
Sarah pushed a button, the window slid down, and Easy’s mother flew in. She lit on the batting next to Easy and Horc, dropping to her knees. She sobbed and clutched both Easy and Horc to her breast. Iris and I flew down and hovered near them, waiting for the right moment to speak. Finally, Easy’s mother raised her large brown eyes. She held out
her arms and we flew into her embrace. She smelled of home, the forest, and the exotic spices only she cooked with. I cuddled deeper into her embrace. Mrs. Zamora’s long brown hair cascaded over me. Even under the darkness of that lovely hair, the world became brighter. My burdens lighter.
“You, too, Gerald,” said Easy’s mother gently. “Yes, I mean you.”
I peeked out from Mrs. Zamora’s hair to see Gerald, looking as unsure as I’d ever seen him.
Easy’s mother held out her pale brown hand. “Come. Be with us.”
Gerald rushed to her and melted into the embrace. I felt him shake once and then be still. Perhaps his burden had lightened, too.
Mrs. Zamora hugged us tight and then released us, leaning back and wiping the tears from her cheeks. Easy clung to her waist and Gerald burrowed his face into the crook of her knee. Mrs. Zamora’s gaze fell on me. She touched my cheek, caressing and soothing.
“You have done well.” She tucked her lovely thick hair behind her ears, revealing a jagged cut extending from her temple to her jaw. Fine white threads laced the edges together and the swelling was minimal for such a painful wound.
“You know about spider webs,” I said.
“I do. Not as much as your grandmother, but perhaps you will teach me the rest.”
“You probably know everything in my head already.”
“Once we are adults and able to control our mindreading, we do not take what is not offered. For instance, I’m not sure how you have come by a spriggan baby. Nor do I know by what means these human ladies help you. I know the information is there for the taking, but I will not do it if I can possibly help it.”
“Former,” said Horc from under her left arm.
“What do you mean by former?” asked Mrs. Zamora.
“I am a former spriggan. Now I’m a wood fairy.”
Mrs. Zamora nodded. “That makes sense.”
Gerald raised his head. “It does?”
“Yes,” she said. “Spriggans that leave the nest rarely return to their old ways.”
“That’s good to know,” said Iris, pressing Mrs. Zamora’s hand to her cheek. “Do you know where our parents are?”
Sarah and Marie bent over close, their breath ruffling Mrs. Zamora’s hair. Tess and Judd leaned over the front seats, bobbing and weaving, trying to get a good look.
“They are out looking for you, as are the rest of the Whipplethorn fairies,” said Mrs. Zamora.
“All of them?” asked Iris, her eyes filling with tears.
“Yes, all. You are surprised?”
“I thought everybody but our parents would be out looking for new homes.”
“You were the only thought that graced their minds once they knew you were taken away with the mantel.”
I clasped Iris’s hand and squeezed. We smiled at each other through our tears.
Sarah lifted our box and held it so that Tess and Judd could see.
“Why are you still here, Mrs. Zamora?” I asked as I wiped my eyes.
“I elected to stay in case you returned. I was to search the forest for signs of you while I waited. That was what I was doing when you came.” Mrs. Zamora looked up at Sarah and Marie. “Thank you for bringing them.”
“Thank you,” said Marie. “This is a sight better than Sunday bingo.”
“Do you know where everyone is now?” I asked.
“They spread out. Each family took a different route in hopes of finding you.”
My shoulders drooped. They could be anywhere. The world outside Whipplethorn loomed huge and unfriendly.
Mrs. Zamora touched my cheek again. “We found out from the humans that a man named Jarvis Hornbuckle bought Whipplethorn and ordered it torn down. Each family is to find him when their route is exhausted. From there we will decide what to do.”
“How will they find him?” asked Iris. “One human in a world full of them.”
Horc slithered from under Mrs. Zamora’s arm. He toddled over the cotton batting and tumbled into my arms. “Your worries are over.”
“Oh, really, former spriggan,” I said, nestling him into my lap. “How do you know that?”
“Because Jarvis Hornbuckle owns the antique mall.”
Marie shifted in her seat and grinned at us. A manic gleam came into her eyes behind her glasses. Her right leg went down and a rumbling shudder went through the car.
“Hold on, everybody!” I yelled.
“To the antique mall,” said Marie, as the car shot down the road. Iris and I fell back on the soft batting, feeling the miles flow beneath us.
“How fast are we going, Miss Marie?” asked Judd.
“One hundred and gaining.”
“Can you do one hundred ten?”
“She cannot,” said Sarah. “Slow down, Marie!”
“Live fast, die young!”
“You’re ninety-four.”
“And never had an accident.”
“Yes, you have,” said Sarah.
“I was twelve and in a buggy. Buggies don’t count.”
Mrs. Zamora handed Easy to me and stood up. “We’re almost there I believe. I can hear my husband’s thoughts.”
“This far away?” asked Sarah.
“Tough luck,” said Marie. “I had five husbands and what they said out loud was bad enough.”
“You get used to it.” Mrs. Zamora smiled. “I’ll tell him we’re arriving at the antique mall, so that he may gather the others that are there.”
“No, don’t,” I said, jumping to my feet. “They’ll know what you are.”
She laid a soft hand on my shoulder. “I won’t keep them in agony for a moment longer than necessary just to protect myself.”
“You don’t know what they’ll do once they know you’re a mindbender,” said Iris. “They think mindbenders are dangerous.”
“We won’t let them do anything,” said Gerald.
“That’s right and maybe they’ll surprise us,” I said. “Maybe they won’t care.”
“In any case, it’s the right thing and it’s done,” said Mrs. Zamora.
“You don’t want to hide anymore,” I said.
“Perhaps you’ve got a little mindbender in you.”
“Just kindler.”
Mrs. Zamora raised an eyebrow at me.
“I don’t want to hide anymore either.”
The car took a sharp right, a left, and screeched to a halt in front of the antique mall.
“Look at that,” said Marie. “I slowed down.”
“You need your head examined,” said Sarah.
“You’re in the car with me.”
I looked past Sarah’s frowning face at the mall doors. To the left, a luminescent dot of light appeared out of a drainage pipe. Then another and another.
“It’s them,” said Tess. “I see them.”
They were there. My mother. My father. And the rest of Whipplethorn gathering for our arrival. I couldn’t move. I wanted them for so long, so badly it seemed a mirage that I might blink away.
Then climbing out of the pipe came a figure, taller than the rest and painted like the most exquisite maple. Soren joined my family and stood with his strong hands on my parents shoulders. It was right that he was there. He said that I would make it happen, using all my gifts we would be together. My world changed forever, but in exchange I’d received a bigger world filled with more of everything. It was, in the end, quite a gift. I squeezed Iris’s hand and decided, no matter what happened or where the mantel went, I would never change my name or pretend to be something other than exactly who I am. I would remain forever a Whipplethorn.
The End
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HERE'S AN EXCERPT from Fierce Creatures by A.W. Hartoin, the second in the thrilling Away From Whipplethorn Series.
Chapter One
Fire was a friend of mine. I loved how it formed in my palms, pooled, and overflowed,
oozing through my fingers to drop down in tiny orange spirals into the basin my father had fashioned out of a metal button. I lay on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, watching my fire, an endlessly fascinating endeavor and a good thing, too. My father was hammering on a needle, trying to make it into hooks for my mother’s pots and pans. It wasn’t going well and I expected to be there for a long time, providing Dad with fire for his forge.
Dad tapped me on the head, and I looked up. “What?”
“I need more,” he said, frowning at me from behind the safety mask he’d fashioned out of an acorn shell and some stuff the humans called Plexiglas.
I formed a fireball the size of my head and dropped it in the basin. Sparks flew out in curlicues and menaced Dad. He jumped back and slipped on his pile of metal shavings.
“Matilda, you did that on purpose,” he said, narrowing his brown eyes at me.
“It was an accident.”
“When it comes to fire, you don’t have accidents.”
A human face came down beside my dad and grinned at me. Judd was one of the few humans that could see us. It was very unusual for a human to see fairies, but Judd had turned out to be remarkable in many ways. As was his sister, Tess, who’d been the first to see me. The two of them surprised me on a daily basis.
“You can’t get away with that accident stuff anymore.” Judd pushed back the safety goggles he wore and, in a rare moment, all his long brown hair was held back and I could see his face. The sprinkling of freckles over his nose softened the effect of his square jaw and strong cheekbones, making him seem younger than he would’ve otherwise. Judd was fourteen, like me, and had beautiful eyes when you could see them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
They both looked at me and I feigned innocence. I could’ve gotten away with it six months ago or even three, but Dad was on to me now and so was everyone else. I’d known I was a kindler since I was eight. Everyone else found out when humans came and ripped our home, the fireplace mantel, off the wall of Whipplethorn Manor. I’d been babysitting on that day and, through circumstances, had to reveal my fire. Even though being thrust into the world of humans with two kids and a baby to look after was terrifying, it was also the best thing that ever happened to me. It was exhausting to hide who I really was all the time and my family took it pretty well, considering we were wood fairies and fire wasn’t exactly our favorite thing.