Fablehaven I (11 page)

hazardous area.

Is she a witch? Seth asked.

She is. Her name is Muriel Taggert.

How come I could see her?

Witches are mortal.

Then why don’t you get rid of her? Seth suggested.

The shack is not her home. It is her prison. She personifies

the reasons why exploring the woods is unwise. Her

husband was a caretaker here more than a hundred and

sixty years ago. She was an intelligent, lovely woman. But

she became a frequent visitor to some of the darker portions

of the forest, where she consorted with unsavory

beings. They tutored her. Before long, she became enamored

with the power of witchcraft, and they acquired considerable

influence over her. She became unstable. Her

husband tried to help her, but she was already too

demented.

When she tried to aid some of the foul denizens of the

woods in a treacherous act of rebellion, her husband called

in assistance and had her imprisoned. She has been trapped

in that shack ever since, held captive by the knots in the

rope you saw. Let her story serve as another warning-you

have no business in those woods.

I get it, Seth said. He looked solemn.

Enough jabbering about rules and monsters, Grandpa

said, standing up. I have chores. And you have a new

world to explore. The day is fading, go make the most of it.

But stay in the yard.

What do you do all day? Kendra inquired, walking

out of the study beside Grandpa.

Oh, I have many chores to keep this place in order.

Fablehaven is home to many extraordinary wonders and

delights, but it requires a great deal of maintenance. You

might be able to accompany me some of the time, now that

you know the true nature of the place. Mundane work,

mostly. I expect you’d have more fun playing in the garden.

Kendra laid a hand on Grandpa’s arm. I want to see as

much as I can.

Maddox

Kendra snapped awake with her sheets tented over her

head. She was supposed to be excited about something.

It felt like Christmas morning. Or a day she was

going to take off school so her family could visit an amusement

park. No, she was at Grandpa Sorenson’s. The fairies!

She pushed off the sheets. Seth lay in a contorted position,

hair wildly disheveled, mouth open, legs tangled in

his covers. Still out cold. They had stayed up late discussing

the events of the day, almost like friends rather than

siblings.

Kendra rolled out of bed and padded over to the window.

The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, streaming

gilded highlights across the treetops. She grabbed some

clothes, went down to the bathroom, took off her nightshirt,

and got dressed for the day.

Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Kendra found Lena

out on the porch balancing atop a stool. Lena was hanging

wind chimes. She had already hung several along the

length of the porch. A butterfly flitted around one of the

chimes, playing a sweet, simple melody.

Good morning, Lena said. You’re up early.

I’m still so excited from yesterday. Kendra looked out

at the garden. The butterflies, bumblebees, and hummingbirds

were already going about their business. Grandpa was

right-many clustered around the newly refilled birdbaths

and fountains, admiring their reflections.

Just a bunch of bugs again, Lena said.

Can I have some hot chocolate?

Let me hang these last chimes, she said, moving the

stool and climbing fearlessly on top of it. She was so old! If

she fell she would probably die!

Be careful, Kendra said.

Lena waved a dismissive hand. The day I’m too old to

climb on a stool will be the day I throw myself off the roof.

She hung the final chime. We had to take these down for

you kids. Might have made you suspicious to see hummingbirds

playing music.

Kendra followed Lena back into the house. Years ago,

there used to be a church within earshot that would play

melodies on the bells, Lena said. It was so funny to watch

the fairies imitate the music. They still play those old songs

sometimes.

Lena opened the refrigerator, removing an old-fashioned

milk bottle. Kendra sat at the table. Lena poured

some milk into a pot on the stove and began adding ingredients.

Kendra noticed that she was not just scooping in

chocolate powder-she was stirring in contents from multiple

containers.

Grandpa said to ask you about the story of the guy

who built the boathouse, Kendra said.

Lena paused in her stirring. Did he? I suppose I am

more familiar with that story than most. She resumed stirring.

What did he tell you?

He said the guy had an obsession with naiads. What’s

a naiad, anyhow?

A water nymph. What else did he say?

Just that you know the story.

The man was named Patton Burgess, said Lena. He

became caretaker of this property in 1878, inheriting the

position from his maternal grandfather. He was a young

man at the time, quite good-looking, wore a moustache —- there

are pictures upstairs. The pond was his favorite place

on the property.

Mine too.

He would go and gaze at the naiads for hours. They

would try to tease him down to the water’s edge, as was

their custom, in order to drown him. He would draw near,

sometimes even pretending he meant to jump in, but

always stayed tantalizingly out of reach.

Lena sampled the hot chocolate and stirred some more.

Unlike most of the visitors, who seemed to regard the

naiads as interchangeable, he paid special attention to a

particular nymph, asking for her by name. He began to pay

little heed to the other naiads. On the days when his

favorite would not show herself, he left early.

Lena poured the milk from the pot into a pair of mugs.

He became fixated on her. When he built the boathouse,

the nymphs wondered what he could be doing. He constructed

a broad, sturdy rowboat so he could go out on the

water and be closer to the object of his fascination. Lena

brought the mugs to the table and sat down. The naiads

tried to upset his craft every time he set forth, but it was too

cleverly constructed. They succeeded only in pushing it

around the pond.

Kendra took a sip. The hot chocolate was perfection.

Barely cool enough to sip comfortably.

Patton began trying to coax his favorite naiad to leave

the water, to come walk with him on the land. She

responded by urging him to join her in the pond, for to

leave the water would mean to enter mortality. The tug-of-war

went on for more than three years. He would serenade

her on his violin, and read her poetry, and make her promises

about the joys their life together would hold. He

showed such sincerity, and such perseverance, that on

occasion she would gaze into his kind eyes and falter.

Lena sipped the hot chocolate. One day in March,

Patton got careless. He leaned too close to the gunwale,

and a naiad caught hold of his sleeve as he conversed with

his favorite. A strong man, he resisted her, but the struggle

pulled him to one side of the boat, upsetting his typical

equilibrium. A pair of naiads heaved upward on the other

side and it capsized.

He died? Kendra was horrified.

He would have died, yes. The naiads had their prize.

In their domain he was no match for them. Giddy with the

long-awaited victory, they rushed him toward the bottom

of the pond to add him to their collection of mortal victims.

But it was more than his favorite could bear. She had

grown fond of Patton, seduced by his diligent attention,

and, unlike the others, she did not consider his death an

amusement. She fought off her sisters and returned him to

the shore. That was the day I left the pond.

Kendra spewed hot chocolate across the table. You’re

the naiad?

I was, once.

You became mortal?

Lena absently blotted up the hot chocolate Kendra had

sprayed, using a small towel. If I could go back, I would

make the same decision every time. We had a joyful life.

Patton managed Fablehaven for fifty-one years before passing

it off to a nephew. He lived twelve years after that —— died

at ninety-one. His mind was sharp to the end. Helps

to have a young wife.

How are you still alive?

I became subject to the laws of mortality, but they

have taken effect gradually. As I sat by his deathbed, I

looked perhaps twenty years older than I had on the day

when I carried him from the water. I felt guilty about looking

so young as his frail body was shutting down. I wanted

to be old like him. Of course, now that my age is finally

catching up with me, I don’t care for it much.

Kendra sipped more of her hot chocolate. She was so

enthralled that she barely tasted it. What did you do after

he passed away?

I took advantage of my mortality. I had paid a steep

price for it, so I traveled the world to see what it had to

offer. Europe, the Middle East, India, Japan, South

America, Africa, Australia, the Pacific Islands. I had many

adventures. I set some swimming records in Britain, and

could have set even more except I was holding back-no

sense raising a lot of questions. I worked as a painter, a chef,

a geisha, a trapeze artist, a nurse. Many men pursued me,

but I never loved again. Eventually, there was a sameness

to the traveling, so I returned home, to the place my heart

never left.

Do you ever go back to the pond?

Only in memory. It would be unwise. They despise me

there, all the more intensely because of their secret envy.

How they would laugh at my appearance! They have not

aged a day. But I have experienced many things that they

will never know. Some painful, some wonderful.

Kendra finished the last of her hot chocolate and wiped

her lips. What was it like being a naiad?

Lena gazed out the window. Hard to say. I ask myself

the same question. It wasn’t just my body that became mortal;

my mind transformed as well. I think I prefer this life,

but it might be because I have changed fundamentally.

Mortality is a totally different state of being. You become

more aware of time. I was absolutely content as a naiad. I

lived in an unchanging state for what must have been

many millennia, never thinking of the future or the past,

always looking for amusement, always finding it. Almost no

self-awareness. It feels like a blur now. No, like a blink. A

single moment that lasted thousands of years.

You would have lived forever, Kendra exclaimed.

We weren’t quite immortal. We did not age, so I suppose

some of our kind could endure forever, if lakes and