by A.W. Hartoin
“NOT just humans.”Iris leaned out the window, balancing on her stomach and exposing her dimpled thighs. She teetered as though she might tumble out at any second and glanced back over her shoulder at me with a grin.
“Give me a second,” I said as I adjusted Ezekiel’s diaper pin.
“You have to come see,” she said.
“It is pretty cool,” said Gerald. “Let’s go out.”
I jerked my head up. “Nobody’s going out.”
“Oh, yeah?” Gerald shouted. “Try and stop me.”
Gerald pushed Iris aside and started worming his way through the narrow window opening.
“Grab him, Iris,” I said as I laid Ezekiel on a quilt.
Iris tugged on Gerald’s ankles. He was halfway out the window and cussing up a storm.
“Stop it, Gerald,” Iris said. “They’re out there.”
“Who’s out there? You don’t even know. Let go,” said Gerald.
“They’re there,” said Iris. “I don’t know what species exactly. It could be Kindlers or those weird Bogles.”
“Bogles just hurt murderers,” yelled Gerald over his shoulder.
I grabbed his leg and tugged. “You’re going to have to tell us more than that, Iris. What’s out there?”
“I don’t know. Bad things.”
Then my stomach got a swirly, queasy feeling. It reminded me very much of the stomach flu I’d had last winter. Then a loud voice came from behind me.
“I believe she may be referring to me. Although I don’t appreciate being called a thing.”
I started and turned around to see an odd little creature standing in the doorway. He was the same height as Gerald with a bald head, greenish-brown knobby skin and oversized hands and feet. He wore a brown suit that looked like it was made out of a greasy paper bag and he smelled like a dead frog.
Iris and I stood frozen, our hands still on Gerald’s legs. My mind was blank. If someone had asked me my name, I wouldn’t have known the answer.
“Hello?” the creature said while wiggling its fingers at us. It started walking with an odd hopping stride around the room, eyeing things and occasionally stopping to sniff them. He came close enough to make me gag. My eyes watered and my nose began to run.
“How did you get in here?” I managed to choke out.
“Through the door, naturally,” the creature replied.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” said Iris. She let go of Gerald’s leg to cover her nose.
The creature moved over to Iris. She backed up against the wall, her face puckered up like she’d just sucked a lemon. It stuck its head close to her face and its tongue came slithering out like a snake’s would. “Too old,” it said. “What a shame. What a pity.”
Gerald twisted around in the window. “What is it? What’s going on?”
The creature lowered its tongue to Gerald’s bare calf, almost touching it. It jerked its head back. “Sour.”
I let go of Gerald’s other leg and pushed the creature away. He was much softer than he looked, a sort of wet sponge texture.
“Get away,” I said.
“Is that any way to speak to your new neighbor? Your new friend?” it asked.
“You’re no friend of ours. Get out. Go away.”
The creature clicked its tongue at me in a very disapproving way as Gerald wiggled back through the window. He straightened his shirt and looked to me. “What’s going on?” asked Gerald. “I heard somebody.”
I pointed at the creature and Gerald turned around. As soon as he laid eyes on the creature he fell into a dead faint and hit the floor with a soft thump.
Iris shook her head. “Not a Whipplethorn.”
“What is this Whipplethorn?” the creature asked.
I grabbed the creature’s sleeve. “We’re Whipplethorns and this is our house.” I pushed it to the window. “Get out.”
“Is that the kind of fairy you are? Whipplethorn? I thought you were wood fairies. You look it.” The creature stood its ground and wouldn’t let me shove him out the window.
“We are wood fairies. Whipplethorn is our last name. Now get out.”
It hopped away from me and placed a large finger on its chin. “And he’s not a Whipplethorn. Does that mean you don’t want him? I could take him off your hands. For a price, of course.”
Gerald stirred on the floor, saw the creature, and fainted again.
“Not very sturdy, is he? I’m afraid that will cost you. What have you got to trade?”
“Nothing.” I advanced on the creature and tried to push him out the door. For being so small, he was surprisingly strong. “We’re not selling Gerald.”
“Oh no, my dear sweet girl. Not sell.” Its voice lowered. “Get rid of.”
“Well, we’re not doing that either. What are you, anyway?”
“I am a spriggan. A proud race of, um how shall we say, fixers.”
Iris came at him, her face screwed up with distaste, and starting pushing with me. “We don’t need any fixing. Go away.”
The creature backed out the door into the hall. “You’ll be sorry. This trade could’ve spared you much trouble.”
We backed it down the hall to the side door, which hung open. We pushed the creature to the threshold.
“Is this how you treat your neighbors?”
“We’re not staying,” I said.
The creature winked at me. “That’s what they all say. Good day.”
“Same to you.” I booted it off the threshold and it landed with a wet splat on well-worn linoleum.
We stood in the doorway watching as it disappeared between two ancient trunks piled on the floor next to the mantel. In fact, things were piled everywhere around the mantel. I’d never seen so much stuff. There were rocking chairs, picture frames, disintegrating clothing, crockery, beds, and anything else I could’ve imagined.
“I heard the humans call it an antique mall.” Iris grinned. “Kind of cool, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
All I could think about was our parents. How was I going to get us home when we were in such a huge mess?
“What’s a spriggan?” asked Iris.
“We can look it up in Dad’s book.” I glanced around the messy hall. “When we find it.”
“Check it out, Matilda,” said Iris, pointing out the door at shelves piled high with dozens of books.
“Wow.” I began counting the books, but swiftly lost count after forty. “That’s a lot of books.”
“They’re all dusty and just piled up. Don’t the humans care about them?” asked Iris.
“I guess books aren’t rare in the human world.”
“It would be so cool to read some.” Iris looked like she was ready to take off.
“It would be, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about.” I hooked my arm through Iris’s and we walked down the hall back to the bedroom. Ezekiel sat on the floor. His fine brows were drawn together and his mouth formed a worried pout.
“What’s wrong, baby boy?” asked Iris.
Ezekiel raised his chubby arm and pointed at the window. It was empty and Gerald was nowhere to be seen.
“Oh, no,” I said. “That’s just what we need.”
“What?” asked Iris. “Where’s Gerald?”
Ezekiel shook his finger at the window and chirped. I went to the window, feeling beat up and tired. The antique mall appeared more cluttered than ever as I tried to spot Gerald amongst the mess. I looked for some tiny movement, for a flutter of wings or a glimpse of his resentful face, but there was nothing.
Iris grabbed my arm and tugged it hard. “He’s gone. What do we do?”
My head jerked back and forth as Iris yanked on my arm. Gerald was gone. I’d lost Gerald. And worse, I’d have to go find him. I’d have to go out. There were bound to be more spriggans and probably worse.
“What do we do? What do we do?” Iris kept chanting.
I finally pulled away from Iris’s hand, went to the window and leaned out. My eye
s roamed past glass cases filled with knickknacks, past kitchen chairs, and wardrobes, all with price tags dangling. A well of sadness rose up around my heart. All those things crammed into the space were things that someone had once cared about, probably cared about very much, and now they were to be sold to whoever was willing to pay. And Gerald was out there, by himself with very little common sense to guide him. How could I find a boy who didn’t want to be found in a place so immense and confusing it would take days just to figure it out? What if I couldn’t find Gerald before the spriggan did?
CHAPTER 5