Shadow Wrack (5 page)

She paused on the front step, thinking.

Still … the dwarves are pretty odd … and secretive. I wonder….

She ate her lunch at top speed, not that anyone was around to notice. Baz was asleep on the couch, Belle's door was shut, and her parents were nowhere to be seen. In a flash Willa was out the door again, jumping on her bike and zipping back to the house. A block away she spotted smoke.

“No, no, no, no, no!” she moaned.

Mrs. Hacker flew out her front door as Willa pedalled up.

“It's on fire again, Willa! Look!” she called, pointing. Willa dropped her bike on the sidewalk and swung open the gate. The smoke was coming from the trees behind the building site, but to her relief she could see no flames. Tengu was strolling across the yard with a bucket of water in his hand. He waved cheerfully to her.

“I'm calling
9-1
-1!” shrieked Mrs. Hacker.

“Don't! There's no need! Everything's fine! They're just burning some brush. It's all under control!” Willa tried her best to sound chipper. Mrs. Hacker narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Willa pushed her bike through the gate and shut it firmly behind her.

“Tengu! What's going on?”

Tengu grinned. “I had the most amazing nap. I feel great!”

“No, I mean what's burning?”

“Oh, that. The dwarves were trying to burn down the woods.” He dumped his bucket of water over a smouldering bush.

Willa looked around. Smoke was rising from three or four spots, but nothing was actually ablaze. Everything did seem under control, thankfully. Then she heard a
high-pitched
squealing in the woods.

“What's that?” She stepped into the trees, peering up through the leaves.

“The dwarves have been busy,” Tengu chuckled. Willa stooped to pick up a strip of paper lying on the path at her feet. It was sticky. Willa's heart sank.
They wouldn't….

Long strips of flypaper dangled from every branch, most of them with wriggling fairies stuck to them. When they saw Willa, they shrieked in rage and frustration.

“Tengu, help me free them!” Willa reached up to release Mab, gently peeling her off the flypaper. They worked as quickly as they could, and soon the fairies were all unstuck, swooping wildly and buzzing with fury.

“You need to calm down,” Willa began, but they had other plans. On a signal from Mab, the whole lot of them rushed to the base of the nearest fir tree. Each grabbed a small fir cone and carried it to the smould­ering embers of the dying fire. Before Willa knew what was happening, the fairies were lobbing blazing fir cones into the house basement.

“No! Stop! Stooop!”

There were shouts from below, but what really flushed the dwarves out was the wasp nest the fairies dropped on them. Tengu covered his eyes and Robert whooped with delight as the dwarves exploded out of the basement and stampeded into the trees, trying to outrun the wasps. The scene was absolute mayhem, but Willa's eye was caught by one dwarf, the last to come up out of the basement. In his hand he held a kind of a sprayer that Willa recognized. Her dad had one at home that he had used on their apple tree one year. It was for spraying bug poison.

Willa grabbed Tengu's arm and swung him around, pointing out the dwarf with the sprayer.

“He's got poison! Stop him!”

Tengu's eyes blazed, and he zipped after the dwarf. The transition was astonishing. In the blink of an eye Tengu was a ninja, silent and
lightning-quick
. If he hadn't tripped over a root, the dwarf would never have heard him coming.

“Oof!” Tengu landed heavily but shot out a hand and grabbed the dwarf's ankle, sending him flying, the sprayer arcing through the air. Somehow Tengu let go of the dwarf, did a somersault and a leap and a dive, and caught the sprayer before landing on his head.

The entire scene came to a complete standstill. Everyone stared. Tengu bounced up with the sprayer held triumphantly aloft.

“Got it!”

Willa exhaled, and Robert let out a low whistle.

“The little fella's still got it. And once in a while he even knows what to do with it.”

Peace and other unsettling events

T
he
Peace Conference began Sunday morning, and it was a solemn affair. Willa sat at the head of the table. Nine scowling dwarves sat along one side, and a menacing mob of fairies stood on the table facing them. Tengu and Robert watched from a safe distance. Willa suggested they start with formal introductions, mainly so she could finally learn the dwarves' names. A
sandy-haired
dwarf stood and introduced himself as Fjalarr, then proceeded to name each of his companions: Radsvidr, Vindálfr, Svíurr, Aurvangr, Dólgthrasir, Hlévangr, Eikinskjaldi. The last to stand was their leader, who Fjalarr introduced as “Mjodvitnir, descendant of the mighty Vestri.”

“And who was Vestri?” asked Willa.

“You do not know of Vestri?” sputtered Fjalarr in disbelief. “What do they teach in your schools? He was one of the four dwarves who held up the dome of the sky in ancient times!” Mjodvitnir bowed proudly.

Robert snorted. “Nonsense. A Greek titan holds up the sky. Always has. Everyone knows that.”

The dwarves bristled. Mjodvitnir leapt to his feet, fists at the ready. It was all Willa could do to get the discussion back on track. Sarah stepped forward to introduce the fairies.

“Honeycup, Bergamot, Cowslip, Dewdrop, Mimsy, Oakleaf, Daisybell, Fluffpuff …”

The dwarves snorted in amusement at the fairy names, and the fairies growled back at them.

Then they got down to business. Fjalarr spoke for the dwarves, and Sarah represented the fairies, while Mjodvitnir and Mab sat grim and silent. The claims,
counter-claims
, and bargaining went on all morning. Maps of the property were made and boundaries were drawn. The dwarves were not to go into the woods and were absolutely forbidden to cut or in any way harm any plant or tree. In return, the construction area was
off-limits
to the fairies; they were not to interfere with the dwarves in any way. Willa carefully steered the discussion through these points, but what really clinched the deal was the exchange of gifts.

“An important tradition at these things,” whispered Tengu. “Good will and all that.”

The fairies sulkily presented the dwarves with garlands of flowers. The dwarves were not impressed. They in turn presented the fairies with a small bundle of delicately wrought swords, all light and the perfect size for fairy hands. The stern expressions of the fairies melted at the sight of them, and they passed the swords around eagerly.

Then the head dwarf himself, Mjodvitnir, held out his hand to Mab. In his palm was a pool of shimmering silver — a tiny suit of delicately wrought chain mail, which Fjalarr explained was as light as a feather but totally impervious to sword, spear, or arrow. Mab slipped it on and spun around, glinting in the sunlight. Holding her new sword high, she fairly sparked with delight; Willa could hear her sizzling.

As the fairies conferred, the dwarves sat very tall, obviously proud of their handiwork. Sarah and four other fairies brought another gift, a magic refilling pitcher full of thick, sweet cream for the dwarves' coffee. And Mab herself presented a velvet bag to Mjodvitnir, explaining that the sand within, when sprinkled over their closed eyes, would bring restful slumber and sweet dreams of their distant home in the mountains. This touched the dwarves deeply. A couple of them wiped their eyes, and Eikinskjaldi turned his back to blow his nose with a thunderous roar.

Willa sat back in relief. There were smiles and friendly chatter on all sides now. Tengu gave her a thumbs up, but Robert frowned as the dwarves and fairies began making flowery speeches and toasting each other with cups of nectar.

“A truce! How absolutely boring!” he grumbled.

“Don't fret, Robert,” Willa grinned. “Happy dwarves and fairies mean productive work and a nice warm place for you to sleep before the snows come.”

“Hmph! I'll believe it when I see it!”

Willa slipped away from the happy scene to check on Horace. The birders were in their usual Sunday hangout, a cheap and cheerful diner near Horace's hotel. As soon as she walked in, Willa knew something was wrong. The birders were scattered across three separate booths, chatting over sandwiches and bottomless cups of coffee, but Horace was sitting by himself in a lone window seat, frowning over a notebook. Willa nodded to the Hackers before sliding in across from Horace.

“Hi, Horace, what's up?”

Horace didn't answer. He was absorbed in sketching the head and curved beak of a bird. Willa cleared her throat and tried again.

“Horace. Earth to Horace.”

“
Ha-ha
-ha! Earth to Horace indeed!” Mr. Hacker was looming over them, beaming with amusement. “Horace is always in outer space somewhere!”

Horace looked up. The other birders were all looking at him, smiling. His face reddened. Willa shifted uneasily as Hacker went on.

“Horace is the wizard of our group, Willa. He has
visions
, you know!”

Willa froze for a moment before she realized he was joking.

“They're not visions. The signs are there for anyone to see,” protested Horace.

“Not me, sport. You're the fortune teller. I'm just a mere mortal.” Hacker guffawed his way back to his table.

You don't know how right you are
, thought Willa. Horace looked totally bewildered. She leaned forward, lowering her voice.

“Don't listen to him, he's just trying to be funny. But maybe you shouldn't talk about your augury with the gang here, all right?”

Horace looked her straight in the eye. “Things are out of joint, Willa. More and more signs. More and more birds. Evil forces.” He was so agitated his hands shook. “Have you seen anything suspicious? What are those dwarves up to?”

“Nothing at all. They're back at work, and everyone's friendly again. They don't mean any harm.”

“Don't be fooled by their innocent looks, Willa. Bad omens are everywhere, and
someone
is to blame. Dark matters … necromancy….” He was adding to his drawing, scribbling madly.

“Horace, look. You need to relax. Sometimes a flock of birds is just a flock of birds.”

Horace looked up angrily. “I'm not crazy.”

“Of course not. I didn't say you were. You just have to be more careful. No talk about magicky stuff. Don't give Hacker any more material, okay?”

“All right.”

Willa looked down and caught a glimpse of the drawing before Horace slipped the notebook into his coat pocket. It was some sort of eagle with an animal's body.

“Horace, old man. You haven't touched your lunch!” Hacker was back, gesturing toward the uneaten grilled cheese on Horace's plate.

“Not hungry,” Horace mumbled.

“You eat like a bird!” laughed Hacker. He turned to the others, once again amused by his own cleverness. “Horace eats, sleeps, and breathes birds. He'll turn into a bird someday if he's not careful!” Mrs. Hacker cackled loudly and the others chuckled.

“Don't let him bother you, he's just a big bully,” Willa whispered to Horace.

“Willa …”

“Yes?”

“Be careful of the bird.” Horace stood suddenly and moved toward the cashier.

Willa watched him go, anxiety flooding in.
Bird? What bird? The phoenix? Why?

That night the phoenix was particularly restless and kept Willa awake for hours. Horace's words had made her uneasy; she lay in bed staring at the bird, and the longer she stared, the more evil the phoenix looked. The spiky feathers, the sharp beak, the cold eyes. At about two o'clock Willa finally dozed off, only to be woken again by cats fighting in the alley. The next morning Baz had a bleeding ear, and a big smile on her face. Willa bandaged her up as quickly as she could before bolting out the door to school.

She stumbled wearily through her day. Science class was something about mass and volume. English class was a discussion about metaphor. Math class was a blur. In art class she stared at her blank paper.

“Willa. Earth to Willa!”

Willa looked up to see Kate and Nicky looking at her.

“Hmm? What?”

“Man, you are in some kind of coma lately.”

“Lay off,” Willa frowned. Her head hurt.

“Seriously, if there's anything bugging you, anything we can help you with…” Kate gestured vaguely. Both girls were waiting for Willa to say something, leaning forward eagerly like they suspected some great gossip.

“There isn't,” she said, a little snappier than she intended.

“Whatever,” Kate replied, and the two girls turned away as Josh wandered past and shared some joke with them. The laughter and
eyelash-batting
made Willa furious for no real reason. She hated school, and she hated her friends.
Who needs them anyway?

Willa stayed late at school, partly to catch up on homework in the library, and partly to avoid seeing her friends. At four thirty the janitor tapped her on the shoulder. She'd fallen asleep over her English book.

“I gotta say, schoolwork had the same effect on me. Time to go home.”

It was getting dark. The streets were empty, but the sky was filled with birds. She stopped for a moment, tipping her head back to watch them. Little birds darted back and forth. Starlings zigzagged gracefully through them, larger seagulls wheeled in from the sea, and far above all of this floated what looked like eagles or vultures, their presence causing the smaller birds to scatter and regroup nervously. The power lines were crowded with crows, and pigeons lined the rooftops.

This is what's freaking Horace out,
Willa thought, wondering if the birds really could be some kind of omen.

At home Baz was in the living room, palms and nose pressed against the picture window, staring at all the birds. When Willa entered the house, Baz spun around, her eyes wild, and made a mad dash for the open door. Willa blocked her, holding her back with one hand while she slammed the door shut and locked it.

“No, Baz! Down, Baz! Down!” Baz scrunched up her face and slunk to the sofa. Willa leaned wearily against the door. “Leave the birds alone. Do you hear me? Leave — them — alone! Please make an effort to stay
human
!”

Baz ignored her.

“Promise me you won't go out, Baz. Please? Promise me?”

Baz turned away with disdain and began licking her hand. Clearly she was losing control.

“Baz, you have to promise you won't go out there tonight. Promise, or I'll put the cone back on you!”

That got her attention. The last time she'd been injured, Willa had put a cone around her head so she couldn't worry the cut. It had been a source of great amusement for the others but of course humiliating for Baz. After giving Willa the evil eye, Baz circled three times and lay down on the carpet. Willa sighed and went into the kitchen.

Her mom was just coming in the back door. She looked exhausted.

“Willa, something has to be done about that bird!” she barked.

“Nice to see you too,” Willa snapped, surprising herself. She held her breath, waiting for her mom to lose it. She didn't have to wait long.

“Willa! I do
not
need
that tone of voice today!”

Willa slumped into a kitchen chair. “Sorry.”

“I simply can't take it any more. If I don't get a good night's sleep soon, I shall go stark raving mad. The bird has got to go!”

“Go where, Mom? Just tell me, and I'll take her!” Willa heard her own voice like it was coming from someone else. Someone super angry.

“Just let it go free! It can fend for itself! Take it up Hanlan's Hill and let it go.”

Willa opened her mouth to argue but stopped. It wasn't a
half-bad
idea. Even if somebody spotted the bird — Hacker or another birder — there was nothing to link the phoenix to her or Eldritch Manor. The bird was obviously not happy here. Maybe she would just fly far away. Problem gone.