A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (23 page)

Ten minutes. It wasn’t much time. I tore my eyes away from the story and flew to the top of the book. I landed on the spine and watched Tess’s face for signs that something unusual had occurred. Tess’s eyes moved back and forth, not noticing me at all.

I waved a little wave. I wanted Tess to see me, but I didn’t know how Tess would react. With Sarah I was reasonably sure there would be joy and fascination, but Tess was young. She might scream and freak out.

“Hello!” I yelled.

Tess kept reading.

I grew bolder with Tess’s lack of response. I stomped on the book, screamed, and pounded the paper with my fists. My voice broke and still Tess’s eyes never left the page. When I couldn’t croak out another word, I slid down the page to Tess’s chest. Sadness welled up. If Tess wouldn’t see me, what hope was there? Maybe our parents would come and maybe they wouldn’t. Tess was our last chance for human help. The parents didn’t believe in fairies and any shot at Judd was doomed to failure. He wouldn’t notice me if I was on fire.

Fire. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

I flew back up to the spine. With the book so close, I feared an accident, so I formed a teeny flame in my palm. Tess didn’t notice what must’ve been a pinprick of light to her. It wasn’t enough. So I left the book and hovered above it. I grew my flame until it was the size of my head and tinged with blue. Tess’s eyes still flitted across the page, but hesitated when she changed from the left page to the right. I concentrated. My flame grew again and began crackling with short snaps of energy. I stared at Tess’s face, willing her to see. Dad said I had to want it very badly to make a human see me. Very badly didn’t come close to what I was feeling. This wasn’t just for me. It wasn’t about me. This was for everyone I loved.

Tess’s head tilted forward. She stared right at my flame. Then she gasped and jerked her head back, dropping her book onto her lap. I flew to Tess’s eye level and spread my wings as wide as they could go.

“Tess!” I cried. “See me!”

“Oh,” whispered Tess.

“Tess! Do you see me?”

“Um…” Tess’s eyes darted around the room and I knew. She saw me, but she didn’t know whether or not to believe.

“I’m here. Really I am. Sarah believes in fairies. It’s okay.”

“Sarah?” Tess blinked and a line appeared between her eyes.

“Your great-grandmother. She believes in fairies.”

“Why are you yelling?”

That stopped me. I pulled back and considered. Then I spoke in my normal voice, sure that Tess would never hear. “I thought you wouldn’t hear me if I didn’t yell.”

“I can hear you,” said Tess, looking fearful. “I’m not crazy, am I?”

I doused my flame. “Not a bit.”

“So you’re a fairy?”

“A wood fairy. My name is Matilda.”

“How come I’m seeing you?”

I fluttered closer. “Because I wanted you to. I wanted you to see me so very badly.”

“Why?”

The room was suddenly bathed in semi-darkness. Tess screeched and I tumbled backwards from the burst of air she emitted.

“Lights out, Tess,” said Rebecca, silhouetted by the hall light shining into Tess’s room. “Night night.”

“Mom,” said Tess in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“Do you see anything unusual in here?” Tess stared at me hovering in front of her face, my wings glowing faintly in the dark with their Whipplethorn luminescence.

“Like what?” asked her mother.

“Um… nothing I guess. Night,” said Tess.

Rebecca shook her head and left.

“Your wings are beautiful,” said Tess. “They glow a little.”

“It’s because I’m a Whipplethorn.” I turned so Tess could see my wings from the back, my best angle.

“What’s a Whipplethorn?”

“It just means where I’m from. Whipplethorn Manor. Have you heard of it?”

“No. Are you the only one?”

“No. There are lots of fairies.”

Tess relaxed on her pillow. “My dad says fairies aren’t real and neither are trolls or goblins or anything like that.”

“He’s wrong. I’ve heard about trolls. I’m not sure about goblins, but I’ve seen spriggans and they’re probably worse.”

“So you’re really real and I can see you.” Tess held out her finger and I landed on it. I walked to the tip of the fingernail and examined the pale pink paint on it.

“Can you feel my weight?” I asked.

Tess screwed up her face. “Kind of. It’s like a mosquito landed on me. I might not notice if I wasn’t seeing you there.”

“Tess!” yelled her mother. “I can hear you talking. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay,” called Tess.

“I need your help,” I said. “But I’d better go before I get you in trouble.”

“Help? What can I do? I’m only eight.” Tess lowered her voice to a whisper.

“You’d be surprised what you can do. I’m thirteen and I’ve fought spriggans and saved babies.”

“Wow.”

“We’re living in your new mantel on the right side. Come see me tomorrow.” I flew forward and touched Tess on the tip of the nose.

“You live in our mantel?”

“Yes. On the right side. Don’t forget. Tomorrow.”

“I won’t forget. There’s no way I could ever forget you.”

I smiled and flew towards the door. I looked back and Tess waved. Her excitement shone strong and beautiful even in the dim lighting.
 

“I did it,” I said to myself and flew out the door.

CHAPTER 19

I flew down the stairs toward the man with the tattoos. He clomped past the stairs carrying a dirty rack of glasses that dripped a sweet smelling sludge across the floor. I flew past him into the kitchen. A snack would go well with my good news. The young woman was still there, looking crabbier than ever. She muttered to herself as she stacked bowls in a bin. Every bowl she picked up scattered more crumbs across the granite table. I landed and sniffed a pale brown chunk. I didn’t know what it was, but it smelled sweet and delicious. I tucked the chunk under my arm and walked among the crumbs, picking up the ones that would fit in my pockets. I popped a couple of the smaller crumbs in my mouth. One was an odd salty bread and the other a spongy sweet cake.

The woman swept her hand across the surface of the table. The crumbs disappeared under her lemon-scented hand. I watched the woman dump all that food into the bowl I’d almost drowned in before. All that food. It was such a waste, but I didn’t have a way to carry it anyway. I left the kitchen and went into the red room where several adult humans remained, talking in low tones and sipping red liquid out of goblets. I flitted over the back of the sofa between two men. One had a stick clamped in his teeth, except his stick had a little bowl attached at the end. I sniffed and discovered that his stick wasn’t lit. I wondered if he was waiting for a way to light it the way the commander always seemed to be.

“Jarvis, either light that thing or put it away,” said the other man with a frown.

“I don’t need to light it to enjoy the feeling it evokes in me,” said Jarvis.

“This is why Lynn won’t go out with you.”

“Why?” Jarvis clamped his teeth hard on the stick.

“You’re a pretentious jackass. That’s why. Ditch the pipe.”

“Evan, you never did have a sense of style.”

“And yet I’m married,” said Evan, brushing a wave of light brown hair out of his smiling eyes. Jarvis noticed and scowled. He rubbed his bald head and pulled at the wispy beard perched at the tip of his chin.

“Then again,” said Evan. “Maybe that’s not it. But seriously, ditch the pipe. It’s just embarrassing.”

“Forget it. The pipe is cool.”

I hovered nearer to Jarvis. He was kind of pretentious. He reminded me of Gerald actually. I decided, like Gerald, he could use a little excitement to knock him out of his funk, so I formed a large orange flame on my palm. I zipped over and dropped it in Jarvis’s pipe. A flash of movement caught my eye as I darted away. Tess peeked at me from the staircase with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes crinkled in laughter and her body quaked.

The smell of burning leaves reached my nose and I spun around. A thin line of smoke rose from Jarvis’s pipe. Neither man noticed. They continued to argue about pipes and pretentiousness. I looked back at Tess who nodded. I grinned at her and dashed over to the pipe. I blew in it and flew backwards just as a flame leapt over the lip.

Jarvis made a screechy noise and tossed the pipe away. It clattered across the wood floor, spewing flames and ashes.

“Jarvis, you idiot!” Evan scooped up the pipe, tossed it on a dirty plate, and stomped on the ashes.

“It was on fire.”

“It’s supposed to be on fire. It’s a pipe.”

“Well, I didn’t light it.”

“Then how was it on fire?”

“How should I know?”

“It was in your mouth,” said Evan, blowing on his hands.

I giggled and looked for my ally. Tess had both hands over her mouth and was bright pink. Just then Rebecca came out of the kitchen and glared at Tess. Tess winked at me and vanished up the stairs. Evan and Jarvis sat on the sofa and examined the pipe, arguing over whether Jarvis had lit it or not. I fought off the urge to light the pipe again, just to really freak them out.

Evan and Jarvis hadn’t seen me, but Tess had and more than once. That cinched it. I flew to the mantel with visions of triumph in my head. I imagined Iris’s joyful clapping and Gerald’s wary smile. No other living Whipplethorn fairy had ever made contact with a human, but I, Matilda Whipplethorn, had done it. Before my feet touched the doorsill, I did some spins and twists.
 

I reached for the door pull, but the door swung open before I touched it. Iris and Gerald stood crowded together in the doorway. Both their faces puckered into frowns. They must’ve been worried about me. I opened my mouth to say I’d done the undoable, but before I could get the words out, Gerald and Iris spoke simultaneously in quick staccato sentences.

“Slow down,” I said. “I can’t understand you.”

Iris blew a deep breath out from between her pursed pink lips. “They’re awake.”

“We didn’t know what to do,” said Gerald.

“Should we leave or not?” asked Iris.

I held up my hands. “What are you talking about? Who’s awake?”

“The trow,” said Gerald and Iris together.

“How can you tell?”

“I hear them,” said Iris.

“Me, too,” said Gerald.

“Well, what are they doing?” I asked.

The two of them looked around confused.

“They’re awake,” said Iris.

“We’ve established that.” Gerald gave Iris a fierce look and turned to walk down the hall.

We followed him into the kitchen, where Horc chewed on a wooden spoon and Easy banged two pots together. Gerald stopped on the far side of the room with his arms crossed. Iris sat down at the table.

“Don’t you want to hear what happened upstairs?” I asked.

“Upstairs?” Iris asked.

“Yes, upstairs,” I said, raising my hands in exasperation. “Don’t tell me you forgot about Sarah.”

“You did it,” said Gerald, without a trace of doubt.

“You did?” Iris clapped her hands. “You really did?”

“I did.” I smiled, enjoying the looks on their faces. “But it wasn’t Sarah who saw me.”

“Who was it?” asked Iris, picking up the plate and wiping it with a cloth.

“Tess.”

“Oh, no,” said Gerald.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “She’s a human.”

“She’s a kid.”

“You’re missing the point, genius.” I put my hands on my hips. “She saw me. We talked.”

“She won’t be able to do anything,” said Gerald.

“She can help us. I know she can,” said Iris.

Gerald shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. She could get the adults to help us. She is a girl.”

“What does being a girl have to do with it?” asked Iris.

“Everything,” he said. “Who do you think would be more persuasive, Tess or Judd?”

“Tess,” said Iris. “But not because she’s a girl. She’s just nicer.”

“You think that because she’s a girl.”

Iris scowled at him and I laughed. “I don’t care why she can help us, as long as she does.”

“What about the trow?” said Iris.

“Why are you so scared?” I asked. “Soren would’ve said if they were dangerous.”

“Easy’s worried,” said Iris.

Easy didn’t look worried to me unless he was worried about whether he could whack a pan hard enough to crack it.

“He seems fine to me,” I said.

“He’s not worried,” said Horc, still gumming the spoon. “Iris and Gerald are worried. Nonsense, really.”

“Why is it nonsense?” I asked.

“Because dangerous fairies don’t play music.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.”

“I do.” Horc bit the end of the spoon so hard it splintered. He chewed for a minute, then turned his head and spit out the fragments. “Name one species of fairy that makes music and is violent.”

I couldn’t, but only because I couldn’t think of any musical fairies. “So they’re doing what? Singing?”

Gerald and Iris looked embarrassed. Horc rolled his eyes and bit the end of the spoon clean off.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “You’ll hurt your mouth.”

“I’m teething,” he said with another chomp. “And they’re not singing. They’re playing instruments.”

Easy chirped and kicked his legs. He held his arms out and I picked him up.

“He says he wants to go visit,” said Horc.

“Why?”

“He wants to play, too. It’s what mindbenders do.”

At the word mindbender, everyone gasped. Horc looked at us, blinking slowly and totally disinterested in our astonishment. Easy tucked his head against my shoulder. I tried to interest Easy in a nibble of cake, but he wouldn’t look up.

“Don’t say that, Horc,” said Iris.

“What?” He eyed the piece of cake in my hand until I tossed it to him.

“You know, don’t say the M word.”

“I certainly do not know.” Horc popped the cake in his mouth and looked for more.

“It’s not nice to say it,” I said.

“Why not? It’s just a type of wood fairy.”

“Nobody wants to be called that. It’s an insult.”

“Did Easy say he didn’t want to be a mindbender?”

Easy shook his head and I looked at Horc.

“He wants to be a mindbender, but he doesn’t like that you don’t like it,” said Horc.