13 Curses (16 page)

“So,” he said softly. “Tell me the next part of your story.”

And she did.

When Tanya and Fabian arrived back at Elvesden Manor, Fabian threw the kitchen door open with such force that it bounced off the wall. Oberon immediately bounded over to his bowls, checking for food first, as always, before greedily lapping from his water dish, sending droplets all over the floor.

Florence was sitting at the table, nursing the fairy from the clock. She looked up in surprise at their riotous entrance.

“For goodness’ sake, Fabian,” she scolded. “You’ll have that door off its hinges one of these days.”

“Sorry,” he gasped, throwing himself down into one of the chairs. Tanya pulled out a chair between him and Florence, also fighting to get her breath back from running.

“What’s going on?” Florence asked suspiciously.
“Tanya, why are there leaves and twigs in your hair?” She cast a cursory look at Fabian. “And you look untidier than ever, not that I’d have thought it possible.”

“Something’s happened,” Tanya managed. “In the woods.” She pulled a strand of hair from her mouth. It was sticky with sweat.

“You’ve been in those
woods
?” Florence’s voice was suddenly shrill. “What have I told you? Haven’t you learned anything from what happened—”

“We were with Warwick,” Tanya interrupted.

Florence’s frown deepened. “I don’t know what he was thinking. Where is he? And where’s Nell and that wretched bird of hers?”

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you,” Fabian said, and began to explain what had happened.

Tanya listened as he spoke and saw her grandmother’s expression grow solemn. The sight of the old woman’s obvious fear only served to heighten Tanya’s further. How were they ever going to find Warwick and Nell now?

Florence’s hand had frozen in midair and, for the first time since they had entered the kitchen, Tanya noticed something glistening on the tip of her grandmother’s forefinger. In Florence’s other hand sat the injured lodger from the clock. It was apparently much better. Staring at the suspended finger in earnest and smacking its lips, the fairy had something golden and sticky around its mouth. Then Tanya saw the open jar of honey on the table in front of her grandmother—a treat for the traumatized fairy. She peered closer at
the creature’s wings but could see no obvious signs of repair. Her grandmother’s work was immaculate.

“Warwick was right,” said Florence, her voice quivering, after Fabian had finished their tale. “Nell and her pest of a parrot really have got us all into a fix.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Tanya. “How do we find them?”

“I don’t know,” said Florence. “All I can think of is to call upon Raven, Gredin, and the Mizhog. Maybe they’ll know what to do.”

“Call upon them?” said Tanya. “You can do that? You can actually summon them?”

“Oh, yes,” said Florence. “It can be done, though I don’t do it if I can help it. They don’t take kindly to it, you see. They much prefer coming when they choose to come.”

“I see,” said Tanya, her mind turning over this piece of news. It was some time since she had seen the fairies now. In the past they had visited far more frequently, although their visits had been by no means pleasant. The possibility that they could be summoned was something that had never occurred to her.

“How do you do it? How do you call them?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” said Florence, reaching for the lid of the honey pot. “Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, looking down at the fairy in her hand.

“What?” Fabian asked, confused. Tanya reminded herself that Fabian was the only one present who was unable to see the fairy in her grandmother’s hand.

“The little beast bit me!” Florence brushed the fairy onto the table and discarded the lid to the honey.

“It’s a fairy, isn’t it?” Fabian said mournfully. “I wish I could see them.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Tanya.

“Ungrateful creature,” Florence muttered, rubbing her finger. She got up and motioned for Tanya and Fabian to follow her. Oberon trotted after them, rubbing his wet muzzle against Tanya’s leg to dry off. Florence led them out of the kitchen, pausing to shut the door—presumably to keep Spitfire away from the fairy—and headed farther into the darkened corridor before the stairs. As they went after her, Tanya saw her grandmother pull a bunch of keys from her pocket. They walked in silence through the musty hall until they reached a door that Tanya was familiar with: the library. Florence unlocked the door and swept into the room, heading straight for the bookshelves.

Tanya watched as her grandmother ran her fingers along the spines of the books, searching. It was then that she noticed something was amiss. As she started to scan the shelves herself, her eyes narrowed. She had been in the library before, in the summer. The first time she had found two things of interest—a book containing valuable fairy lore that had later been destroyed by goblins and a newspaper cutting about the missing Morwenna Bloom, at one time her grandmother’s best friend. The second time she had found the entrance to one of the manor’s secret passages
behind the bookcase—and the runaway Rowan Fox using it as a hideout. Shortly after her first visit, however, Warwick had cleared the library of its books on the pretext of giving them to charity. Her hand came to rest over a small book wedged into the shelf:
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Tanya lifted it from the shelf and leafed through it while her grandmother’s back was still turned. It was no surprise when the familiar newspaper cutting came loose in her hand.

Tanya snapped the book shut pointedly, and her grandmother looked around. Her face fell as she saw the book in Tanya’s hand and realized her mistake.

“These are the same books,” Tanya said quietly. “Warwick never got rid of them at all, did he? It was just for show. Just pretend.”

“I’m sorry we lied to you,” Florence said. Her voice and face were calm. “But it was necessary that you believed the books were gone for your own protection. There was too much information at your disposal and too much at stake. I knew that once you knew about the library, simply locking the door wouldn’t be enough.”

Fabian glanced at Tanya guiltily and she guessed what he was thinking. Together, after Fabian had stolen skeleton keys belonging to both Florence and Warwick, the two of them had managed to explore a number of locked doors that would otherwise have remained off-limits.

“So what’s changed?” Tanya asked, gesturing to
the books. “How come you don’t mind me knowing the books are here now?”

Her grandmother crossed the room and took Tanya’s face gently in her hands.

“Everything’s changed. You know now that I have the second sight. And I hope that if or when you need help, you’ll come to Warwick or me first. Just as you did today.”

Tanya said no more and both she and Florence went back to their searches. Her grandmother was right—not for having lied, but for wanting to protect her. It was true that Tanya’s discovery of the newspaper cutting had been the beginning of the dangerous events in the summer.

“What’s the name of the book you’re looking for?” Fabian asked.

“It’s called
One Hundred and One Perfect Puff Pastry Recipes
,” said Florence, flicking at a cobweb. It landed on Oberon’s nose, making him sneeze.

“How is puff pastry going to call the fairies?” Fabian asked in puzzlement.

“You’ll see,” said Florence, still scanning the shelves. “Oh, bother, it really isn’t where I left it—it must have been put back in a different place when Warwick replaced the books.”

Five minutes later, Fabian called out.

“It’s here!” He pulled it from the shelves near where the secret passage leading to the tunnels below the house was. He blew dust from the cover and handed it to Florence. Tanya joined them. Her grand
mother leafed through it, mustiness coming off the old book’s pages. Its deep red fabric cover was tatty and faded.
Red to keep the fairies away
, Tanya guessed suddenly,
and a title that would keep children away. The perfect hiding place.

From the middle of the book, Florence removed three things: a tiny green leaf, a black feather, and a long, thin whisker. Tanya recognized them all. They belonged to the fairies. Her grandmother snapped the book shut.

“What you’re about to see you must promise never to reveal to anyone,” she said.

Tanya and Fabian murmured their solemn agreement. Florence returned the book and beckoned them out of the room. Tanya noticed that she did not lock the door behind them this time. They followed her back into the kitchen and waited while Florence disappeared into the pantry. A minute later she returned, clasping a tiny wooden box. She pried it open to reveal a pile of tiny dried and pressed green leaves.

“Clovers,” said Fabian.

“
Four-leafed
clovers,” Florence corrected. “If you ever find them you must keep them, for they hold a lot of power. They connect humans to fairies in more ways than one.” She knelt before the fireplace with her assortment of objects.

Tanya and Fabian followed suit, and as Tanya did she saw a flash of movement from behind the coal bin. The little hearthfay had skittered away from them. Tanya watched as her grandmother gazed into
the flames. A wisp of her long, gray hair had worked its way loose from the tight bun at her nape and floated to rest at her jaw.

Florence lifted her hand, and in it was Raven’s black feather. To this she added one of the four-leafed clovers and a single hair plucked from her own head. With a flick of her wrist she threw all three things into the fire. A curl of smoke wreathed up the chimney, and as it did Florence called:

“By the powers that be, I call thee to me.”

She plucked another hair and added it to the Mizhog’s whisker and another four-leafed clover, then threw them into the flames, uttering the same words a second time. As she reached for the third item, a leaf from Gredin’s clothing, she hesitated, then stretched her hand toward Tanya.

“Here.”

“You want me to… to do that?”

“Gredin is your guardian,” said Florence. “You, more than any other, have the right to call upon him.”

Nervously, Tanya took the leaf from her grandmother. She licked her finger and dipped it into the box of clovers. One of the leaves stuck to the tip, and she shook it into her palm. With her other hand, she pulled a hair from her head. The flames sizzled once more as she threw the three items into them.

“By the powers that be, I call thee to me,” she said in a clear voice.

“Now what?” Fabian asked anxiously.

“We wait,” said Florence.

It was over an hour before the fairies arrived. Tanya, Fabian, and Florence were sitting in a subdued silence in the kitchen, staring into the fire. It was beginning to go dark outside now, and the strain of worrying about what had become of Warwick and Nell had started to show. Florence kept making endless cups of tea that went cold because nobody felt like drinking them, while Fabian had been snappy and obnoxious, ensuring that conversation dried up before it ever began.

Other than the crackling of the flames, Tanya could hear several other sounds: a light rain outside tapping at the windows, the occasional hiccup from the clock fairy who had gorged itself silly on honey, and Oberon’s snoring, along with the odd leg twitch and a half yelp as he chased rabbits in his dreams.

“Why aren’t they here yet?” Fabian said, scowling at Florence. “What’s the use of calling them if they don’t come straight away?”

“As I’ve already explained, they’ll come as soon as they’re able to,” Florence replied.

Fabian remained quiet for a moment, but Tanya could tell he was no calmer. His nostrils were starting to flare as he breathed, a signal of his increasing agitation.

“Will I be able to see them?”

“I don’t know,” Florence said. “If they know you’re aware of them, then yes. They may choose to show themselves. But don’t be surprised if you don’t see a thing.”

Fortunately, they did not have to wait much longer to find out, for just then, the back door flew open, and in with a fine spray of rain came two figures, their cloaked forms filling the doorway.

Immediately Fabian jumped up from his chair, his pale face lit with sudden hope. “Dad?”

Tanya, however, had noticed the way the flames dimmed and the telltale twitching of her eyelids. A scent of woodland swept into the kitchen, tangy and fresh. These were no ordinary visitors.