by A W Hartoin
Hubert ruffled his hair. “You can, but don’t cause any trouble.”
Yves ran over to Gerald and Lucien. The old galen drew him close and the three of them looked like conspirators hatching an evil plan. Iris bit her lip and watched longingly.
“You can probably go, too,” I said.
“No. Gerald doesn’t get to see a lot of boys.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Gerald saw plenty of boys, but he’d yet to make a friend.
Hubert pointed to a bed. “You can put Matilda down here.”
“I don’t need treatment. It’s about Miss Penrose.”
“I know, but you are here. I’d like to get a look at that leg after Jacqueline is through with you.”
At the mention of the name Jacqueline, a galen I hadn’t noticed before stood up at the far end of the room and everyone looked her way. Even the sleeping trolls inclined their faces toward her. I don’t know what it was about her. She certainly wasn’t an imposing presence. She was small and delicate with a fine bone structure and small bow-shaped mouth. The only thing different about her was her hair. It was completely concealed beneath a silver head wrap.
She glided toward us with a serene expression. The more I looked at her, the more relaxed and sleepy I got. Lrag laid me on the bed and stood back with Bentha, both watching her as intently as I did.
She bent over my bed and placed a cool hand on my forehead. “You have Viola in your face.”
“She was my grandmother. She’s gone.” It got easier every time I said it.
“I’m so very sorry. Viola was a great friend.”
Iris sat on the end of my bed. “You’re the great healer?”
Jacqueline smiled. “You’re surprised?”
“I thought you’d be really old.”
“I get that a lot.”
I imagined she did. Jacqueline’s face was unlined and smooth, though she wasn’t a young girl. She took my wrist and felt my pulse with closed eyes. “Very good. You’re weakened, but still strong enough to heal.” She gestured to my leg. “A horen?”
Hubert’s mouth dropped. “A horen. Where?”
“At the antique mall,” I said. “They haven’t been here long.”
“How many are there?” Hubert had gone another shade of pale.
“Three.”
“We must prepare. There haven’t been three horen in one place since I don’t know when.”
Jacqueline agreed. “Prepare the remedies and make sure everyone has a full pouch on their person at all times.”
Hubert rushed away in such a hurry that it got Lucien’s attention and the old galen headed over. Yves and Gerald stayed, looking at his ponderosa swords.
“How did you know about the horen?” I asked.
“I can smell him on you.”
Iris wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“It’s not as bad as having him attached to me,” I said.
Jacqueline threw back her head and laughed. A warm feeling lighted in my chest and then spread to my toes.
“You are truly Viola’s.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Lucien picked up a lock of my hair and twisted it around his finger. “But she’s come about something else. Her friend has congestive heart failure, and like Viola, she went looking for a cure.”
“To the spriggans then?” Jacqueline laughed again, warming me a second time. “Just what Viola would’ve done. Did you get the root from them?”
I pulled the little bag from my pocket. “I did. Can you make it into a cure?”
“I can make the root more effective, but a cure is not possible. Not from me, I’m sorry to say.”
Iris’s face fell and tears welled up. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t know it. Congestive heart failure is extremely rare. The only one who might’ve known the cure would’ve been Viola.”
“How could Grandma Vi know it and not you? You’re the great healer, right?”
“I am, but the cure isn’t a medicine. It’s a spell, and it’s only passed from a master to a master. If Viola knew it, she never passed it to me.” She looked at Lucien. He shook his head.
“I still don’t see why Grandma would’ve known it and not you,” I said.
“Because Viola went to Europe, and I never have.”
“Grandma Vi never went to Europe,” said Iris. “She hardly went anywhere.”
“You didn’t know your grandmother very well,” said Lucien.
“We did so. She liked elderberry jam the best and the color green. She sang all the time and made the best apple pie ever.” Iris crossed her arms and glared at him.
Lucien kissed her forehead. “I apologize. You don’t know what she was like when she was young.”
Jacqueline straightened up, still holding my bag. “With your permission I’ll turn your root into a tonic.”
“Of course, but where do I get that spell?” I asked.
Lucien and Jacqueline exchanged a look. She smiled at the old galen and said, “There’s no stopping her. She has Viola’s heart, so you might as well tell her.”
Jacqueline glided away. Several other galen followed her behind a container of human-sized tongue depressors.
“You have to go to Europe,” said Lucien.
“To where Grandma Vi went?” asked Iris.
He nodded. “Your mother will never forgive me, but silence has never been my strong suit. She’s lucky to have kept it from you this long.”
“You know our mom?” I asked as another galen came to my bedside and gave me a cup of tea. It had peppermint for my stomach and willow for pain. I sipped the tea and relaxed against the pillows as Lucien arranged himself on a large throne-like chair carved from hickory that Yves and Gerald had carried over.
“Grandpa’s going to tell a story,” said Yves. “I can tell.”
The boys sat on the floor with their knees tucked up under their chins and grinned expectantly. I thought Gerald would contradict Yves or tell a story of his own that he was sure couldn’t be outdone, but instead he sat silent, waiting with the rest of us.
Lucien finished messing with his toga and snapped his fingers. A galen placed a cup of tea in his hands and he leaned forward, his bushy eyebrows raised to peaks. “I know your mother, but I haven’t seen her in nearly forty years. That’s the way she likes it.”
“But why?”
“I’m part of an agreement Viola made with her the day you, Matilda, were born. Viola promised never to tell you about her youth or me. Your mother didn’t want you getting ideas like Viola did.” He chuckled. “I’m pleased you got ideas on your own. She should’ve known you would. From the moment you were born, you were Viola’s girl, right down to the violet eyes.”
“Did Grandma want to tell us?” asked Iris.
“Of course. Our adventures were meant to be shared. How can anyone learn, if no one talks? But Viola knew Matilda had the healing gift and your mother said she’d only let Matilda apprentice with her if she kept her stories to herself.”
“And it’s all about Europe?” I sipped my tea and felt my stomach settle.
“It’s about Europe, me, and your grandfather.”
“So you knew him, too.”
My grandfather had died before I was born. Nobody ever talked about him, other than to say he was a healer and very nice. It wasn’t much of a description, come to think of it.
“I introduced them,” he leaned further forward, “in Paris.”
“Paris, France?”
“The one and only. You see, Viola and I ran away together to get married. She was desperate to get out of Whipplethorn and get some real experience in healing. And I wanted her. We’d heard about the revolution and it seemed like all excitement and romance. We were both right and wrong on that.”
Gerald raised his hand. It was bizarre. Usually, he just blurted out questions. Sometimes he’d even answer himself before anyone could respond. “You went into revolutionary territory on purpose?”
“We did and
it was fantastic. Terribly dangerous, of course, but we were young.”
“Who cares about that?” asked Iris. “Are you our grandpa?”
“I wish I was, but no. We never married, though I loved her like no other.” Lucien’s eyes watered and he blinked away the tears. “Galen and wood fairies can’t have children together. Some species can mix, but ours couldn’t. Viola wanted to carry her own children, so we didn’t marry.”
“What revolution?” I asked.
Lucien looked at Gerald, who straightened up and assumed his know-it-all expression. “The French revolution. The humans started it in 1789. French fairies followed suit. The human part of the revolution ended in 1799 with the Coup de Brumaire. Napoleon Bonaparte took over from there, but the French fairies didn’t have a Napoleon, so their revolution is still going on.”
Lucien nodded. “That’s it in a nutshell.”
“They’re still having a revolution after two hundred years? That’s crazy.”
“It’s not always active. The fighting can be minimal for decades. It was at a fever pitch when Viola and I stowed away on a cruise ship and arrived in Marsailles.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” said Iris. “You could’ve been killed.”
“That’s just what your mother thinks. She was never like Viola. Sweet child, but not an adventurous feather in her wings.”
“So is our grandpa really Paul?”
“Yes. He was Paul-Phillipe Baudin out of the Castle Baudin.” Lucien snapped his fingers for more tea, and a galen rushed forward to refill our cups.
“Was he a kindler?” I asked, hopefully.
“No, but there were rumors about the Baudin family.”
Rumors. I knew all about rumors.
“Do you want to hear about our adventures?” asked Lucien.
Iris clapped her hands. “I do. I do.”
“Well, then settle in, this is the tale of a lifetime.”
Lucien began talking and we sat rapt with cup after cup of tea. I forgot about my leg and Miss Penrose, I’m ashamed to say, but it was the tale of a lifetime, my grandmother’s lifetime. Lucien described their meeting when my great grandmother, Emerald, brought Viola to learn from the galen and how they fell in love. They fled Whipplethorn in the middle of the night, leaving only a note and stowed away on a cruise ship. They fought with both the revolutionaries and the aristocrats. Sometimes they just fought to stay alive. There were kidnappings and murder, betrayal and sacrifice, but mostly there was friendship and love. We cried when Paul-Phillipe married Grandma and cried harder when he was killed by falling rocks in a horen attack. We held our breath when Lucien delivered my mother in a hideout in the revolutionary-held Notre Dame cathedral. It was thrilling, but also I felt robbed. Grandma Vi should’ve been the one to tell those stories to us. I wanted to see her face when she said the words. Mom was so stupid to think hiding stuff from me would change who I am.
Lucien took a deep breath and called for chocolate. Yves ran for it and bought back thick slabs of cake covered with what Lucien called ganache. We ate and I simmered.
“I can see you’re angry,” said Lucien as he scooped up a glob of frosting. “Control that temper. I’ve seen first hand what a temper like that can do.”
“I can be angry. Mom shouldn’t be keeping secrets.”
“So you told her the minute you knew you were a kindler, did you?” he asked.
“That’s different.”
“Nonsense. You were afraid of what would happen, and so is your mother. I don’t agree with her, but she is your mother. She loves you and wants to keep you safe. Viola wanted that, too. Her idea of safety was just different than your mother’s and a lot less boring. Your great grandmother Emerald didn’t see her daughter for five years because of our adventure. She never let your mother forget that.”
“I don’t care.”
Jacqueline glided up and looked me over. “I see my father’s stirring up trouble as usual.”
“Your father?”
“He didn’t get to us, his children?” She kissed Lucien on the forehead and the old galen looked chagrined. “Well, I suppose having children and dinner on time isn’t as exciting as fighting in a revolution and losing love. Did you at least get to the Vermillion family?”
“I’ll get there,” said Lucien.
“Miss Penrose doesn’t have time for you to get there. She needs the spell and we haven’t got it.”
“So we have to go to Europe?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to say yes or no. I was afraid of the answer either way.
“I’m afraid so. Paris to be exact. The Vermillion live there and last I heard they’re the only ones with the spell. Right, Father?”
“The Vermillion had it when we were there. Viola spent considerable time with them. She may have learned it, not that that does you any good now.”
“So I have to go to Paris and learn the spell.”
Jacqueline leaned over my leg and undid the wrappings. “It’s not the best idea, but I can’t think of anything else.”
“Matilda can do it,” said Gerald. “We’ll help her.”
“She’ll need your help and I don’t doubt she can learn the spell. It’s getting through to the Vermillion family that’s the trouble. The revolution has heated up. There’s fighting in the streets of Paris, talk of atrocities as there hasn’t been in years.”
“And you’ll have to take Miss Penrose with you,” said Lucien. “You won’t make it there, learn the spell, and get back before she dies. The Vermillion will have to perform the spell. It wouldn’t do to wait until you’ve learned it.”
“She’ll never survive the trip,” I said. “You should see her.”
“The root will help her considerably and she’ll live long enough, if you move quickly.”
“How will we get there? Mom will freak out,” said Iris.
“Cruise ship, I guess, like Viola and Lucien,” said Gerald.
“Ahhh, now there’s where we can help,” said Lucien. “Jacqueline, you’d better get that ankle going, if we’re going to get them home before midnight.”
Jacqueline smiled at a nearby galen, and he rushed over with a basin of water. Jacqueline murmured and tossed in leaves and powders. She stirred up the mixture and it began smoking. The smoke swirled into flowers and vines. They changed colors and went from iridescent to opaque and then back again. Gerald took a sniff and wrinkled his nose. Jacqueline gingerly lowered my foot through the smoke. She held me by the shoulders as I gasped at the stinging pain.
“Just relax. The pain will pass,” she said.
“Are you sure about that?” I choked out.
“I am. It should be getting better now.” She put a cool hand on my forehead.
“It is better,” I said. “How’d you get the water so hot? You don’t have a kindler, do you?”
She laughed. “No. We have electricity.”
“Really?” Gerald asked. “How is it implemented? I’ve been wanting to wire our houses, but my dad says it’s too dangerous.”
Lucien stuck his finger in my basin. “It’s cooling already. Matilda’s soaking up the heat. Better get Q out here.”
“Q,” said Jacqueline. “is the secret to our success.”
“Who’s Q?” asked Iris.
“Q is more of a what than a who.” Jacqueline smiled at the galen again and he ran up. “Michel, where are the ace, right now?”
“They’re repairing the main museum elevator,” said Michel.
“All of them?”
“No. I think Q is in the stores.”
“Please tell him we need the heating element he devised,” said Jacqueline.
Michel ran through the sickroom and went out of sight behind the tongue depressors.
Lucien snapped his fingers and another galen came over. “Iva, send for Thaddeus. Our guests are nearly ready to go.”
“I’m not,” said Gerald. “I want to hear more about the revolution.”
“Me, too,” said Iris.
/> “Another time.” Lucien downed his tea and tossed the cup over his shoulder. A galen who’d been hovering behind him caught it and winked at us. Lucien stretched and looked around, his old eyes sharp. “Where is that Q?”
“He’s coming,” said Jacqueline, pointing at a stout little fairy coming around the tongue depressor jar with Michel. Q was short and pudgy with brown hair and blue overalls.
“It’s a Home Depot fairy!” exclaimed Iris.
“That doesn’t sound like a species,” said Jacqueline.
“It isn’t. It’s a store. What kind of species is Q?” asked Gerald.
“I have no idea. Q and his three friends showed up about five years ago and started fixing things. All they would say was that they were from the Ace Hardware, so we call them the ace.”
Q waddled over, pulled a length of wire out of his pocket with a twisted metal thing on the end and dropped it in my basin. He plugged the other end into a hole in the floor, flipped a little switch on the wire, and the twisted metal went red hot. “Don’t touch it,” Q said without looking at me.
“I won’t,” I said. “Have you ever been to the Home Depot?”
“I’m from the Ace Hardware.” Q turned around and walked off.
“Well, I guess I won’t be asking him any more questions.”
“What do you want to know? They’re useful little weirdos, but not talkative,” said Lucien.
“For starters, how do you get rid of them?” I asked.
“Why would you want to? They’re very useful and eat hardly anything,” said Jacqueline.
“I like them,” said Yves. “They put lights in my room. It’s a lot easier to study.”
“That would be great,” said Gerald. “We should keep ours.”
“You have ace?”
“Ours say they’re from the Home Depot, but we can’t keep them. They’re driving Dad nuts,” I said.
Lucien nodded. “I understand. They take some getting used to.”
“I don’t think Dad’s going to get used to them. They said he couldn’t take care of the house.”
Lucien and Jacqueline laughed.
“Sounds familiar, but I don’t think you can get rid of them. They don’t take hints and have absolutely no social skills at all. Short of killing them, I think you’re stuck,” said Lucien.