Eldritch Manor (6 page)

“Must you do that in the house, you
fool?
”

Willa got Tengu to agree to do his crowing a couple hours after dawn, and on the peak of the roof furthest from the Hacketts. Belle was still shaking her head.

“That sorry excuse for rooster crowing would never fool a basilisk. Never in a million years.”

Tengu drew himself up to his full, unremarkable height. “I don't see any around here, do you? Therefore it
must
work!”

Then he stuck his tongue out at Belle and waggled his fingers around his ears. That started Belle hurling things at him — sofa cushions, books, shoes — until Willa begged her to stop.

Belle was easily the most unfriendly person in the house, but no matter how unpleasant she was, how cranky, how downright rude, Willa felt drawn to her. She still remembered how beautiful Belle had looked when she'd first met her, when Belle was asking to go to the seaside. That loveliness and charm could be flicked on or off like a light switch, and apparently Belle had decided Willa was to be left in the dark. Their encounters usually went something like this:

“Good morning, Belle!”

Scowl.

“And how are you today?”

Abrupt exit from room, with a dismissive toss of silver hair. Really, it was like trying to be friends with a rock.

Besides giving Miss Trang a wide berth, and trying not to antagonize Belle, Willa also tended to avoid Robert. He usually stayed in his room, but when he ventured out, knocking into the overhead lamps and smashing things with every step, Willa felt small and foolish next to him. And he always looked a little wild-eyed. The wisps of hair around his ears stuck out every which way, there were always spills and stains on his clothes, and he smelled funny. When speaking of Robert, Mab tipped her head back with her thumb pointing to her mouth, meaning he drank too much.

One day Robert and Belle happened to be in the parlour as Mab led Willa in to show her one of her special treasures. She opened up a trunk to reveal a real pearl from an oyster. Mab glowed proudly as Willa admired it. She wasn't exactly sure what Mab might do with it, since it was far too big for jewellery. Willa was just imagining the little fairy using it as a bowling ball when Robert suddenly swayed to his feet and stomped one hoof in irritation.

“A pearl. Big deal. I've got something far more valuable than that.” He turned to Willa, smiling eagerly. “Would you like to see it?”

Willa nodded, a little uncertain. Robert reached for an old cigar box on the mantel.

Belle snorted. “Oh for God's sake, Robert. Not that filthy old thing.”

“It's
gross,”
squeaked Mab in agreement.

Robert spun around, upsetting an end table. “You two wouldn't know magic if it came up and bit you on the ass!”

He turned back to Willa, tipping over a vase, which Willa managed to catch, but not before it spilled water and daisies all over the carpet. Robert paid no mind, tapping the top of the cigar box.

“This is my good luck charm. It's the best luck charm there is, better than a rabbit's foot or a horseshoe, and it beats a four-leaf clover all to hell.”

Now Willa was curious, so she leaned in as he removed the rubber band keeping the lid in place. He carefully lifted the lid to reveal what looked like a misshapen turnip.

“Oh, that's ... nice....” Willa smiled politely.

Robert beamed proudly, as if he was showing off a newborn baby. “It's a mandrake!” Seeing Willa's blank look, he went on. “The mandrake only grows at the foot of a gallows, and as you can see, the root is in the shape of a man.”

Willa looked closer. The thing did have two offshoots that could be taken for arms and another two that could be legs, but it was far from obvious. She looked up to see Robert nodding and smiling, his eyes wide with delight. He looked like a little boy at show and tell.

“When the mandrake is pulled from the ground, the root screams so horribly that anyone within earshot goes instantly mad,” he informed her gleefully.

“So that's what happened to you, you old goat,” cackled Belle.

Willa stifled a smile as Robert let fly with a few choice words. Mab was up on the dollhouse roof, rolling around amid peals of tinkly bell laughter, while Belle rocked back and forth in her chair, grinning merrily. Willa hadn't seen Belle smile in a long, long while.

Robert grew rather huffy and returned his cigar box to the mantel. Willa tried to cheer him up, saying it was really quite fascinating and she'd never heard about mandrakes before, but he was officially in a sulk and went stomping up to his room. Willa wondered if she should go up to apologize but felt Mab tugging at her sleeve.

“I've got something else to show you. Something very, very important,” her little voice chimed. Willa smiled, reminded of little children trying to top each other with their toys. She knelt on the carpet as Mab flew into the little house again. Inside, the fairy reached under a miniature armchair and pulled out a tiny sewing basket.

Willa looked over at Belle, who rolled her eyes. Mab opened the basket and carefully lifted out her knitting needles. Hanging from them was a long, silvery scarf. Willa had often seen Mab sit in that chair, clicking away with her knitting needles, but she had never before gotten a look at what the fairy was knitting. Mab lovingly draped the scarf across her arms and stroked it.

“This,” she whispered, “is the most valuable treasure in the entire house.” She held it out and Willa reached to touch it. The stitches were tiny and fine, and the scarf felt silky, even silkier than silk. It was like dipping her finger in cool water. Suddenly Belle's mocking voice burst out behind her.

“What makes it so valuable? What's it made of, caterpillar fuzz? Moooonbeams? Magical silvery fairy farts?” Belle burst into laughter as Mab shot her a dirty look and whisked the scarf back into the basket. Willa watched helplessly as the fairy flew up and grabbed hold of the front of the dollhouse. With a last indignant “Hmph!” she slammed it shut with herself inside.

“Belle!” Willa felt bad for Mab but couldn't help but smile herself. Belle was still chuckling in amusement. Willa sat down beside her, conscious of how rare this friendly moment was. “What about you? Don't you have something special like that? Something that means the world to you?”

Belle raised her eyebrows at Willa's tone but blinked thoughtfully. Willa noticed her hand slip into a small pocket in her sweater.

“Me? Well, I ...” Belle saw Willa looking at her pocket and blushed. “It's nothing much. Just something that ... someone ... gave to me.”

Willa watched closely as Belle pulled out her hand and uncurled her fingers. In her lined and wrinkled palm was a round, smooth, white stone.

“Is it magic?” Willa whispered.

Belle shook her head. “Not in the way you might think.” She rolled the stone over and over in her hand. “This was given to me a long time ago. When I lived in the ocean.” Her face softened into a smile at the memory, and she ran her fingers over its surface.

“Belle,” ventured Willa, “why do you live here? Instead of in the ocean, I mean?” For a moment Willa was afraid she'd gone too far, but Belle just lowered her head sadly.

“I made a mistake.” She tapped her breastbone with one bony finger. “I can't breathe water anymore, I can never go back. Sometimes ... I forget that.” Her eyes fell on the stone again. “And this ...
this
was the start of all my troubles.” She snapped it up in her hand and thrust it into her pocket. Then she seemed to suddenly remember who she was talking to and squinted angrily at Willa.

“But of course,
you
know all about it already, don't you?
Don't you?
” she hissed at Willa, making her jump.“No, I don't! I don't know what you mean!” Willa protested, shrinking back from her.

Angry as she was, there was a tear in Belle's eye as she gripped the wheels of her chair and rolled out of the room. Willa was left behind, alone and utterly confused.

In which dark clouds descend and Miss Trang departs on a mysterious journey

B
elle
retreated even more from Willa after that, slipping into melancholy. Willa felt the mood of the entire household change as well. The usually purposeful and efficient Miss Trang wandered aimlessly, frowning and lost in thought. As a result the others were uncommonly quiet, watching her and keeping their thoughts to themselves. It felt like everyone was waiting for something. When Willa could stand it no longer she sought out Horace in the library.

“Horace, what's going on?”

He looked up from his book. For a moment he looked so blank she thought he didn't know who she was. Then he blinked and smiled. “Ah, Willa. What's going on where?”

“Here. Everyone's acting weird. Like you're all waiting for something to happen.”

Horace leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. “We are, I suppose. Things just don't ... feel right. Something's wrong but we're not sure what it is. I suspect that old enemies are waking up, somewhere in the world.”

“Enemies? Whose enemies?” Willa felt cold. She worried for a moment that Horace might refuse to answer more questions than the “one a day” she'd been allotted, but he kept going, smiling sadly.

“When you deal in magic and live for hundreds or thousands of years, as we have, it's quite easy to make a few enemies along the way. And they have long lives too, and long memories ... as long as time itself.”

“But where are they? Are they nearby? What's happening?” The questions poured out.

“We haven't received any direct news of anything yet. Nothing has even happened that we're sure of. But there's a ... a kind of heaviness in the air. The taste of iron.” He looked at her kindly. “You know when you can feel a rainstorm coming, just from the stillness?” Willa nodded. “Well, there's a feeling like that about.”

He stared out the window. “It's in the air, and the light ... my very blood slows in my veins. Thickens. Everything is tensing up for something. Something's coming.”

Willa looked out at the sleepy street. It was hot and still. Cicadas buzzed in the trees. Fear flooded through her. Questions froze in her throat.

Horace smiled reassuringly. “Oh, I'm being overly dramatic. Maybe nothing will happen. Old people worry too much. We've got nothing better to do.” He spoke lightly but Willa was still alarmed.

“But what can you do? To find out for sure?”

“Other than wait? Well, I might try some old-fashioned augury. It's been such a long while, I'm not sure I'm still up to it ...”

“What's augury?”

Horace puffed himself up proudly. “Augury, dear Willa, is my personal specialty. It was my job in the old days to interpret the will of the gods, to tell if they were pleased or displeased with the doings of man. It was my job to foretell the future from the clues I saw around me.” Then he sighed and sagged a little. “Only I'm not sure I can still do it ... I can't get a good view of things here in town.”

He looked her in the eye. “Willa, there's nothing to be afraid of. Don't worry.” He tucked a book under his arm and drifted toward the door. Willa squeaked out one last question before he disappeared.

“Horace ... you will tell me when there
is
something to be afraid of, won't you?”

He paused, a dark shape in the doorway. Without a word, he nodded and was gone.

For the next few days Willa tried not to worry, but everyone grew more and more sullen. Nobody spoke, not even to argue, complain, or tease. They paced or sat in the parlour staring as their tea grew cold. Willa tiptoed about and spoke only when absolutely necessary, in a hushed whisper.

One day Miss Trang's office door was ajar and Willa saw her leaning back in her chair with a cold compress over her eyes, muttering to herself.

“It's coming ... It's coming all right ... Who will it be this time?... Who?”

One night at home, a week after her conversation with Horace, Willa had an intensely vivid dream. A tornado dropped suddenly from a blue sky and roared around the boarding house, ripping off the roof and sucking all its contents up into the sky amid shrieks and wails.

Willa awoke damp with sweat. Everything was still. The room was stuffy and hot. She got up to open her window.

Orange street lamps lit the empty street. Willa pushed the window open. There was no breeze. She was wishing she had a fan in her room when the streetlamps suddenly went dark. Willa jumped. There was no moon, the street was black, and the air heavy. It was hard to breathe. She gripped the window ledge and stared at the street lamps, wishing with all her might that they'd come on again. Then she heard it. Horse hooves. Distant but growing louder every moment.

Willa listened. She wanted to step back from the window but she couldn't move, she couldn't unclench her fingers, she couldn't even breathe. The only thing still functioning was her brain, which screamed at her to move away from the window.

The hooves grew louder and louder. Willa stared up the street, petrified at what might appear. Suddenly, in the blackness, an even darker form appeared in the distance, approaching swiftly. It was a horse, an inky black horse running upright on its two hind legs, like a human. The sound of its hooves grew so loud she thought the whole neighbourhood would wake. If only it would! She didn't want to be the only person to see this.

The horse moved closer, running on two legs with such speed that its mane and tail streamed out behind. As it passed her Willa felt the hot breeze of its wake. Just past her house the horse stopped dead, not even slowing first, but instantly freezing in its tracks. Willa's heart almost jumped out of her chest. The street was silent once more as the horse turned its head from one side to the other, then, with a measured clop ... clop ... it turned and looked straight at Willa with burning red eyes.

After a long, silent moment the horse turned away ... clop ... clop ... and began to run again, disappearing quickly up the street. Willa's knees buckled and she fell to the floor.

Willa woke at dawn, still crumpled beneath the window. She felt groggy, but when the memory of the black horse shot through her brain she was suddenly wide awake. Her body ached and she longed to climb back into bed, but Willa was certain that this was what Miss Trang had been waiting for. This was what they were all waiting for. She had to go to them.

Tiptoeing out of the house, she was again gripped by fear, but the day was reassuringly normal, the rising sun warm and friendly. The paperboy was working his way up the block; she could hear the monotonous thud as each newspaper hit its front door. Everything looked so ... ordinary.

She ran all the way. The air was fresh and cool for the first time in weeks. Birds sang. The town seemed so bright and cheery, she almost doubted what she'd seen.

The house was alive with loud voices and movement. Everyone but Miss Trang was in the parlour. They were wearing their pajamas and robes, and all talking at once.

“— absolute crap!” Belle was shouting as Willa ran in.

Horace began patiently. “The signs all point to a disturbance ...”

Belle interrupted him. “A disturbance! Well, thank you, Nostradamus! We all woke up, we all
know
there was a disturbance. Do ‘the signs' tell you anything we don't know already?” Horace sighed as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Mab was in a frenzy, flying around in rapid circles, occasionally bouncing off a wall like an addled moth. Willa could barely make out her sharp little voice.

“We've ... got ... to DO something!”

Robert sat sullenly in the corner, punctuating the hubbub with the occasional crashing stomp of a hoof. Fadiyah flapped at the bars of her cage; feathers floated in the air. Even Baz, usually unflappable, was chewing nervously on her bottom lip and moaning.

“The most horrible dreams ... I know something's happening. Something terrible, something absolutely horrid.”

Belle countered her, waving her hands in frustration. “Psh. Dreams! Nobody
saw
anything!”

Willa nervously cleared her throat. “I saw something.” No one paid her any attention, so she tried again. “I woke up and looked outside....”

“Stop that infernal stomping!” Belle hissed at Robert.

“Shut your trap, you old sea-cow!” he growled back.

Willa took a deep breath and shouted. “I SAW SOMETHING!”

Everyone froze, looking at her. Willa felt suddenly nervous. Her voice faltered. “I — I saw something. I think it's important.”

Horace leaned past Willa and shouted up the staircase. “Miss Trang! Come at once!” He led Willa to an armchair. Miss Trang appeared in the doorway in a flash, looking strangely worn and tired. Willa could hardly believe she'd ever been afraid of the woman.

Miss Trang knelt before her and looked her in the eyes. “What did you see, Willa?”

“A black horse with red eyes, running down my street. Running up on two legs!”

Miss Trang blinked in surprise. The others murmured anxiously. She stood suddenly and turned to leave the room, barking, “Come with me, Willa.”

Willa followed, wondering if she'd done something wrong. Miss Trang led her into her office and shut the door. She sat at her desk and began writing, speaking to Willa without turning to look at her.

“I have to go away for a few days. I'm leaving right away. You will be in charge. You'll find money for groceries in here.” She gestured briefly to a desk drawer. “It would be best if you slept here as well.”

Willa stared in astonishment. “In charge? Me? But I ... I don't ...”

Miss Trang spun around in her chair and looked her in the eyes again. She didn't look tired anymore; she looked steely and determined. “You are in charge. Keep the others in line. Don't let the place fall apart. I don't have time to give you the full story, but this is very, very important. All right? Will you help us?”

Willa swallowed. She didn't know what was going on. She felt uneasy and fearful, but this was the first time she'd ever been needed for something important.

She nodded. “Yes, I will.”