The Shadow of Mist (12 page)

VANISHED

An Otherworld Short Story

There was a tang to the air that she couldn't place. It whispered to Maggie, reminding her of the scent of her cream drink, and of the big orange balls the Mothers called “pumpkins” and the smell of the sweet treats that Little Mother took out of the hot box. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered as she thought of the sweet and savory flavors of her drink—the richness of the cream, the tang of cinnamon, the slightly musty taste of the sage blended with the sweetness of the sugar. Her belly was empty, but there was no one around to lift her up, to hug her and set out her bowl for her to drink from.

Disconcerted, the little calico gargoyle looked around, trying to figure out where the Mothers had gone to. She was the size of a toddler, with a wingspan that didn't quite match her proportions, and her soft, downy fur was mottled with a tortie pattern—brown and orange, with hints of white and black sprinkled throughout. Her round eyes were a cross between those of an owl and a cat, and her ears hung out from her head, drooping and floppy. The little pointed tail curled around her legs as fear made her crouch lower in the jungle.

The grass tickled her nose. It was nearly chin high, and though Maggie usually loved playing with it—she'd pull it and chew on it and use it to tickle the Mothers—right now, the long blades were more of an annoyance than anything.

Irritated as it caught at her wings and impeded her progress, she pushed it out of her face, but the going was too rough and the thick grass caught at her wings and threw her off balance. Since she was nowhere near being able to fly yet, crawling seemed the easiest choice. Squatting down, she moved through the jungle on her hands and knees, trying to find her way back to her family.

A noise to her left made her stop. There were monsters in the world. That much she knew, and they often found their way to this place. Once or twice, they'd come rushing in the house and Little Mother had caught her up and carried her to safety.

A vague memory of being in a dark, frightening place with Milk Mother played through her mind. Echoes of screams nudged themselves out of the recesses of her thoughts, and she shuddered. Some of those screams had come from Milk Mother herself, and had coincided with sisters and brothers vanishing. The ever-present smell of blood had been overpowering, making it hard for Maggie to drink from her mother's breast.

And then, one horrible day, a pair of nasty, stinking, taloned hands snatched her up and stuck her in a dark bag. She'd heard Milk Mother scream, and that frightened her. Maggie began to
mooph
loudly, as the blackness surrounded her and the bag jostled and shook. This creature meant her harm—she could smell the cruel stench of its anger. Thoughts of her missing brothers and sisters flashed through her head as she cried for Milk Mother.

Fear rocked her into a catatonic state, and she dozed, too tired to resist the pull of sleep. The next thing she knew, a pretty creature opened the bag and lifted her out, into her arms. Her voice was soft, and though Maggie didn't understand the words, the emotion behind them was gentle. The creature had taken her home. There, Maggie got to know the Mothers. Camey had named her Maggie, and now she lived with love surrounding her.

Sometimes at night, though, her dreams drifted back to the dark place of her birth, and she'd fuss. But then Milk Mother would appear and wake her gently, standing next to the crib. Her touch was light, almost nonexistent, and she glowed with a light that shone from within her. Maggie understood, on an innate level, that Milk Mother had crossed into the darkness that had gobbled up her brothers and sisters. She tried to tell the Mothers, but they couldn't understand her, and she couldn't form the words yet that would explain the joy of seeing her Milk Mother again.

Maggie looked around as her stomach rumbled, and she yawned. She was hungry and tired and needed a cuddle, so she began to crawl forward, looking for the Mothers. Crawling was easier than walking, and she made good time.

As she pushed her way through the grass, a soft voice hissed at her and, startled, she turned. A mouse crouched behind a tall dandelion, staring at her. She knew this mouse—it was one of Dee-ya-ya's friends, and any friend of the Mothers was a friend of Maggie's.

“What you do here, young one, so alone? This is not good.” Misha blinked, her nose quivering. “Does Delilah know you're out here?”

Maggie moophed softly. “Dee-ya-ya? Where?” She'd tried to chase Misha once and gotten scolded for it, so now, even though the soft toy looked so appealing, she restrained herself, not wanting anybody mad at her.

“You don't know?” Misha glanced around, her tail flicking to the side. “You really are lost, little one, aren't you?” With a sigh, she twitched her whiskers once more and said, “Stay here. Don't move. I'll be back.” And with that, she vanished into the undergrowth.

Sad—she didn't like being alone, and Misha's presence had made her feel more secure—Maggie scowled. The mouse had told her not to move, but she wasn't one of the Mothers and therefore, the baby gargoyle didn't feel the need to obey. With a
hrmph
, she began to crawl again, pushing her way through the grass.

As she steadily worked her way through the jungle of blades and dandelions and the occasional cornflower or wild bluebell, the air began to chill and the vague sense that something was wrong began to steal over her. Maggie frowned. Where was everybody? Had they just left her alone?

She screwed up her face as she sat back, her wings skimming the ground, and began to whimper. Maybe the Mothers were never going to come after her. Maybe she'd done something very bad and this was her punishment. Usually, when she was a bad girl, she had to sit in her playpen without a toy, or take an extra nap. Now, even the mouse had abandoned her.

But even worse than the realization that her family was nowhere around, was the sense that she was not alone. And
Not Alone
was
not
a good thing. Because there was something out there that made her afraid. The very feel of it was oppressive, and she shivered, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands against her shoulders. She didn't know what to do next. Where was Camey? Or Menny? Or even the Little Mother, I'is?

I'is had not been as playful lately, and her tummy was growing. She wasn't picking Maggie up as much as before, and she wasn't playing as much as she used to. Maggie didn't like that. Not at all. In fact, the feeling that somebody, somewhere, was demanding more of I'is's attention, made her angry. Frustrated, she begun lashing out, slapping at whoever was holding her, wanting things to just go back to normal.

But now . . . now . . . she just wanted to be back home with her family.

A smell wafted out from the nearby grove of huckleberries, and her stomach lurched. The scent reminded her of the time with her Milk Mother, and the harsh light they'd lived in, and the dry heat and pungent fumes that had surrounded them constantly. As the grass shifted and parted, Maggie hiccupped, her tears drying as the fear took hold.

A blur of motion, and then—a creature, one of the
Not Friends
as Misha called them—loomed over her, grinning. But the grin wasn't friendly, and his feral teeth gleamed as he laughed.

“Mooph . . . ”
Maggie let out a little cry, then turned, trying to crawl away.

The creature said something in a harsh, guttural voice.

Maggie didn't understand the words, but his intent was clear. She scrambled, trying to make her way back through the grass, but the goblin's long arms reached down to snatch her up, roughly holding her around the waist. He turned her to face him, and leered, licking his lips.

Maggie screamed. She just wanted to go home. She'd be good, she'd be
ever so good
if the Mothers would come save her and take her home. She wouldn't slap I'is, and she would eat her ground lamb and beef for dinner even though she wanted more of the cream drink instead! And she'd take her naps when she was supposed to.

As tears streamed out of her big, round eyes, another blur shimmered in the air beside them. The goblin yelped as Milk Mother appeared, growling at him.

With a grunt, he dropped Maggie and she fell into the grass with a jolt, but she wasn't hurt, and immediately she started to crawl away.

Milk Mother couldn't touch the creature. Maggie knew that much because Milk Mother's touch on her own self was always so light it felt like her hands were going right through Maggie's skin. But the little gargoyle didn't feel quite so alone now. As she did her best to hurry, the goblin lunged at her again.

But this time, it was not Milk Mother who stopped him.

“Hey, dead meat. Catch!”

A shining blur flashed through the air, over Maggie's head. Her eyes widened as blood began to pour down the goblin's shirt, a dagger sticking out of his chest. He wavered, then stumbled back as another blur went bounding over Maggie to land in front of him.

“Dee-ya-ya!” Maggie clapped, relief flooding over her. Cat Mother had returned for her!

As Delilah began to beat the goblin senseless, another pair of hands scooped Maggie up, only these hands were familiar and smelled of warm flowers and spices from distant lands. Maggie snuggled against Camille, hugging her neck tightly.

“Camey!” Maggie buried her nose in Sparkle Mother's hair.

Camille held her securely, whispering in her ear.

“We were so worried, little one. We couldn't find you! Never, ever wander off like that again, baby.” Camille carried her back through the long grass, with Delilah following her.

Their words were still foreign to her—there was so much she couldn't understand yet, and the world still seemed so confusing. But as she listened to them talk, Maggie sniffled, melting into Camille's embrace.

Delilah chucked Maggie under the chin and Maggie giggled. “How did she get out? Did Iris say?”

“Little minx has figured out how to open the latch on her outdoor playpen. Hanna was watching her, but had to go check on the clothes and thought she'd be okay for just a few minutes. Apparently, not so much.” Camille's voice was gentle.

Maggie's tummy rumbled, but right now the only thing that mattered was that the Mothers had found her. They hadn't abandoned her, after all.

“We'd better get Smoky to fix it this afternoon. Maybe the guys should just redesign the entire thing.” Delilah's voice was like daffodils and the summer breeze. “Aw, she looks tuckered out. We're lucky we got there before that goblin . . . I don't even want to think about it.”

“Mooph,” Maggie said gently, her eyes still closed. The scent of the Mothers was comforting, and her fear was already fading.

“How did you know she was out?” Camille shifted Maggie to one side as she began to climb the porch steps.

“Misha found me and told me. I was climbing a tree and had almost gotten my tail caught in a bunch of pitch, when Misha called to me from down below. I scampered down and she told me she'd seen Maggie out in the yard, alone, and that she was headed into the patch of wild grass near the rogue portal. That's when I shifted back and called for you.”

“The guards really need to keep a better watch on that portal. The wards went off inside just as I heard you calling.” Camille pushed open a door, and Maggie blinked.

They were back in the kitchen, where all sorts of good things happened, and I'is was there with her cream drink and a plate of ground lamb. Maggie preferred the drink, but she remembered her promise to Milk Mother and cheerfully gobbled the lamb before reaching for the bowl of cream and sugar and cinnamon and sage.

“She's really hungry.” Iris smiled at her gently.

Maggie gave her a wide smile. Growing tummy or not, Maggie could sense that the Little Mother loved her.

“Give her all she wants to eat. Our gargoyle has had quite the adventure today.”

Maggie ate up her lamb, then slurped up two bowls of the cream drink. Yawning, she didn't even protest as Hanna carried her into the crib and gently laid her down for a nap and then tiptoed out of the room.

Clutching her Yobie doll, Maggie blinked as Milk Mother once again stood over her, gently smiling down. The others couldn't see Milk Mother, but she could, and as the older gargoyle leaned down to kiss Maggie's head, Maggie closed her eyes and softly fell into sleep.