Jumping in Puddles

JUMPING IN PUDDLES

Barbara Elsborg

www.loose-id.com

Jumping in Puddles

Copyright © January 2013 by Barbara Elsborg

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eISBN 9781623000837

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

Published in the United States of America

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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* * * *

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Chapter One

“I hate this. I hate you. I hate my life.”

Ellie knew exactly how her younger sister Pixie felt, because at that moment those words could easily have come out of her own mouth. All six members of the Norwood family were soaked, tired, and muddy after trekking nine miles in the wind and rain along inhospitable, boggy sheep trails that kept disappearing into nothing. Ellie couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the sheep once the tracks petered out. Whisked up by aliens? Subject to spontaneous combustion? Or sucked down into this horrible, squelchy marsh?

Each year they were obliged to make the same trip to the Bowland Fells, and no matter how hard their father tried to make it enjoyable, it wasn’t and never would be for more reasons than their present physical discomfort.

“Bloody hell,” Pixie snapped as she sank up to her knees in water.

Asher laughed and hauled her out. Not much fazed her brother, but then, he was the type to throw himself off cliffs, explore narrowing underground tunnels, and dive with sharks. He probably went on walks like this for fun. Only no walk he ever made was quite like this annual event.

Her family trekked in a line: their father in the lead, then Pixie followed by Asher, then Ellie followed by Micah, the youngest, and at the rear, their mother.

“Look, a hen harrier,” their father called from some way ahead.

“It’s a merlin,” said their mother.

“Keep your eyes peeled for a ring ouzel,” the family chimed in, and despite being wet and shattered, they all laughed.

Their father shot them the finger. Without fail, every year he said the same thing about the ring ouzel after he thought he spotted a harrier. They’d never seen one of the white-banded birds. Ellie caught her foot on a tuft of grass and tripped. If Micah hadn’t grabbed the back of her jacket, she’d have fallen headlong.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded but didn’t speak. He rarely did. Her dark-haired brother stayed away from home as much as he could. She had no idea what he did for a living.

“Nearly there,” their father shouted.

“You’ve been saying that for the last hour,” Pixie yelled.

“Well, it isn’t far now. Look, there are the Whitendale Hanging Stones.”

On cue, the gritstone outcrop appeared out of the mist. The stones sat high on the Bowland Fells between the valleys of Brennand and Whitendale. Two hundred meters to the west of the stones and the point to which their father led them, was the exact center of Great Britain, factoring in its four hundred and one associated islands. The central point wasn’t marked by anything—no signpost, no pile of boulders. It was merely a nondescript clump of grass surrounded by peat bog, yet any of them could have found it blindfolded. Though it wasn’t sensible to try.

The center’s pull was irresistible to their kind. Ellie knew there had to be other places in the UK that offered an energy recharge, but the Norwood family was obliged to use this one, a trip always made in driving rain accompanied by a howling wind. She was certain the elders had chosen this spot because of its inaccessibility, and because they wanted the Norwoods to struggle to get there and remember what their ancestors had done. As if they could ever forget.

Their father stopped walking, and once they reached him, they spread out in a circle and joined hands. Ellie squeezed the fingers of her brothers and gave them encouraging smiles. They’d all feel better on the trek back.

“On the longest day of the year, at the heart of this land, we come to humbly beg for renewal,” said their father.

Ellie tried to blank the annoyance from her mind that they were forced to go through this ritual when the crime hadn’t even been of their making. Their father always spoke the words with reverence, but it upset Ellie that such a decent, kind, and honest man was judged unfit to live in the world he loved and to which he felt he belonged.

She didn’t love that world. She loved this one. She didn’t understand why their father longed for it so much considering he’d only been there once. Though it had crossed her mind that on that visit, perhaps he’d been interfered with in some way to make him long to return. Ellie had never been to the other side, nor did she wish to visit. Well, maybe just to visit, but that wasn’t the way it worked. Their father had been ordered back to find a wife just as Ellie would soon have to find a husband.

Not this year but next, she’d be given three weeks to look for a mate. Not easy when along with love, she offered exile. Not easy when she believed in love at first sight. What happened if she didn’t fall in love in the time she was allotted? She suspected she’d be made to accept some guy whether they wanted each other or not. The thought made her shiver.

As their father finished speaking, the mist rolled in, so she could hardly see across the circle. The tingling sensation started at her toes and crawled up her legs like an army of ants, invading and renewing every cell in her body. Ellie was always careful how much power she used over the year, unlike her wayward sister. Expend too much day after day and eyes lost color and bodies faded. None of them currently had bright eyes. The only reason Pixie wasn’t ghostlike was because they shared their energy with her. Not hard to conclude that if they let their power drain completely, they’d cease to be. But they didn’t know for certain. It wasn’t written in the book.

The prickling sensation slid over Ellie’s face. It made her scalp prickle, then was gone, leaving a pleasurable buzz as if the sun had come out and warmed her bones. The instant rush that followed, a feeling of being able to do anything, left her giddy with excitement. They let go of each other’s hands and smiled, eyes back to full color, bodies and minds recharged for another year. Even the rain seemed more tolerable.

Asher kicked at the tuft of grass they’d surrounded. “Think if we dug, we’d get anywhere?”

“Yeah, Australia,” Pixie said.

Ellie pulled him away in case the ground opened up and swallowed him.

“No,” said their father. “This is a power point, not a way in. They won’t let us in until the
Kewen
is found.”

“Like that’s going to happen.” Pixie snorted. “No sign of it in three hundred years? What chance do we have of uncovering it? I’m fed up with coming up here. I’m fed up of being a freak.”

Their mother sighed. “We aren’t freaks.”

“Yes, we are. I’m going to drain my power completely this time and see what happens.”

Ellie shuddered.

“We’ll just give you ours,” their mother said. “You mustn’t take the risk.”

Pixie grinned. “I’m not walking back. I’ll see you at the car.”

“Pixie Norwood. Do not waste—” Their mother tsked as Pixie disappeared.

“Don’t go after her,” said their father. “It’s a waste of energy.”

But the selfish brat would be happy enough for them to use theirs to help her if she landed herself in trouble.

They set off back the way they’d come, Ellie thinking of a hot shower and a warm bed at the little bed-and-breakfast place they’d stayed in last night. Pity there was no handsome man to share it, just her bad-tempered sister. She suspected the lack of a permanent partner in any of her siblings’ lives was due to interference from the elders, despite their mother’s observation that in different ways, her children were all too picky. Pixie went through boyfriends like a packet of sweets. Asher had a different girl every week. No one knew what happened with Micah, and Ellie had to wait to be swept off her feet on the other side.

Their father was lucky he’d found the perfect wife during the three weeks he’d been allowed back, but their grandfather hadn’t chosen wisely. Her grandmother had been beautiful but also mean, bitter, and twisted. Ellie didn’t want to end up like her grandpa, stuck with someone miserable.

The men and women on offer were ones who’d been in trouble for one reason or another, even her mother, though Ellie had never managed to wheedle out of her what she’d done to get on the blacklist. But no matter what their lives were like on the other side, not many were prepared to leave their family and friends behind forever and agree to live on this side with a banished faerie.

Ellie thanked the stars for her lovely mother every night. She’d kept them together and made them believe that one day they could go home. Though Ellie didn’t know where home was, if it wasn’t here. She wanted to be able to choose her own destiny rather than have it written for her. She wanted to fall in love at first sight and live happily ever after. It wasn’t too much to ask.

* * * *

Ellie shuffled nervously as Bernie Cohen inspected the gold necklace she’d restored. She knew she’d done a good job, but Bernie looked for any excuse to reduce the amount he owed her.

“Bernie! Stop looking for shoddy work. You know I’m brilliant.”

He grunted. “I suppose it’ll do.”

Ellie breathed out. The guy might be a friend, but business always came first. He wrote her a check, signed it with a flourish, and she tucked it in her purse.

“Want to come to Dacre’s with me?” he asked. “A couple of pieces in the catalog caught my eye. I’d like your opinion.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll take you to eat at Vito’s afterward.”

Oh crap
. Her evening was wide open. “I’ve somewhere I need to be by five.”

“A quick drink then.”

“Fine.”

He pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. Ellie was tall, but Bernie was a mountain of a man. Lots of dark curly hair, shoulders like a rhino, and face to match. She knew he fancied her, which was why he sent repair work her way, but if she kept saying no to a meal, she worried that would stop. She liked him, just not in the way he wanted.

She followed him out of his office and onto Hatton Garden, which had been the epicenter of London’s jewelry trade since medieval times. Cohen’s sold antique and vintage jewelry and a few modern pieces, along with gold, silver and diamonds, and
objets d’art
from the Georgian, Victorian, and Edwardian eras. Ellie liked the eclectic mix in the unpretentious store. Bernie’s window display was a treasure chest brimming with excitement.