Chapter 31
DAVID
For the first time, Mom had given us explicit instructions to keep our distance from Cearo. “If she’s been going this far to keep the fae out of the human world, there’s no way she would have let me go on blind faith,” she said. I agreed with that, but I took it to mean something a little different. Mom seemed to think Cearo had had some elaborate plan to kill her and that it was finally coming to fruition. I, on the other hand…well, I still couldn’t figure out Cearo’s real reason, but I wasn’t worried about it.
After everyone had gone to sleep, I lay awake, listening to the fire crackle and the wood stairs creak. I was tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned repeatedly, always settling on my back, where I could look up toward the second floor. I got up and crept up the stairs. One groaned at my weight and I froze for a full minute. When no one woke up, I kept going until I reached the top.
I turned to the side and nearly tripped over Mom. It was a terrifying few seconds regaining my balance, and my brain whirred trying to form excuses for why I was up here. Thankfully, they were unnecessary. I stepped back and watched Mom go on sleeping. Cearo was still asleep as well. There was no mumbling this time, but her brow was slightly furrowed. Even in sleep she couldn’t really relax. I sighed and tried to project with my mind that it was okay, that I knew she was good.
Her eyes opened. I jumped. “Why do you have to do that,” I mouthed while holding my chest, miming a heart attack. I caught her trying to hide her smirk. I smiled at her. She motioned for me to go back downstairs. I waited for her brow to unfurrow before I did. Satisfied that she was alright now, my mind finally let me sleep.
We spent nearly three weeks in Cearo’s cottage. That’s how long the storm lasted. The Seelie really wanted to be sure they got us. Too bad for them that they didn’t know about this place.
I had started thinking of it as Cearo’s actual home. None of her other hide-outs had been made to last long, other than her library. This one was permanent though. She told us how the hobs had helped her build it as a thank you. When she started feeding the kelpies, the hobs had been preyed on less. By now, the kelpies had stopped eating them entirely, and the hobs could come and go as they pleased. This was a home for them too. Everywhere, if you looked closely, you could find little nooks and crannies where the hobs had built their own rooms and halls and stairways.
I spent the first few days amusing myself by watching them go about their hob business. There wasn’t a whole lot else I could do since the tension amongst the rest of us was high. We were mostly silent, and Mom followed Cearo everywhere to make sure she wasn’t up to anything sinister. At one point, when they were upstairs and Eric and I were eating in the kitchen, I said, “It’s like the beginning of our Yosemite trip all over again.”
“Huh?”
“Mom’s paranoia. You’d think Cearo was going to turn into a mountain lion.” We tried our hardest to smother our laughter so they wouldn’t hear but with little success. Mom’s face appeared from the top of the stairs. “It’s nothing, Mom.” She went back to Cearo, and Eric and I kept chuckling silently.
Mom may have been dogging Cearo’s steps every waking minute, but she had to sleep sometimes. When she did, Cearo would come sit with me, and we’d talk quietly. Eric glanced up at us once, but he didn’t say anything about it.
Cearo and I talked about everything. She told me more about the hobs and taught me how to say a few phrases in their language. I scooped one of the hobs up and tried it out. She — I thought it was a she — laughed playfully at me after the first couple sentences. Cearo said my accent was horrendous. Then the little hob kicked me in the nose at the third phrase. Cearo fell over, shaking with silent laughter.
“What did you make me say?!” I hit Cearo with a pillow as the hob jumped down from my hand and ran off.
Cearo caught her breath and told me, “You said, ‘Your bark is very rough and knobbly.’ You basically called her ugly.”
“You’re so mean!” I hit her again, but I couldn’t stop from laughing right along with her.
One night we talked for hours about our lives pre-fairies. I told her all about Sid and how he was going to kill me for missing his party. I tried singing some of his favorite songs, but it was hard to do that quietly with as much enthusiasm as he’d done it with. She still laughed though.
She told me a little about where she grew up. She didn’t know where it was today, since cities had changed the landscape so much. She thought it was somewhere in northern Europe though. When she was a kid, she lived with a tribe of, she estimated, fifty people. They farmed and raised livestock. She said that for a long time, she hadn’t really known there was a world outside her village because she’d only heard stories of it and its people.
“When did you leave?” I asked.
“When I was around your age, I think. We did not keep track then.”
“Was that before or after you got your air elemental?”
“It was the same day actually.”
I wondered if she’d gotten kicked out because of it. It seemed likely. I didn’t want to ask and make her feel bad though, so I skipped that question. “Where’d you go?”
“I wandered. The world could be a beautiful sight. I started painting and making things then,” she said, pointing at a fox carving on a table.
“You made that that long ago?”
“No, none of it has survived. But a lot of these are copies of my old favorites, memories that stick out.”
“What was special about the fox?”
“It followed me for a month, stealing my food. Irritating animal,” she said. I laughed as she glared at it. “I made a carving of it to see if that would scare it away.”
“And did it?”
“Yes,” she gave it an exaggerated evil smile. I laughed even harder.
Eventually, Mom accepted that Cearo wasn’t going to go on a killing spree, and things slowly got less awkward. I was able to talk to her during the day without risking Mom’s scowl. She showed us some of her best landscape sketches. They were amazing, especially the ones of a river that she’d drawn over and over again. Even Eric joined in the conversations and asked Cearo for some drawing tips.
During one of their art lessons, I noticed the hobs running around the kitchen cooking. They were making something similar to pancakes. I watched them pour the mixture into a pan and heft it into a holder over a small fire. It took ten of them to flip it when the time came. I went over to help them and got an idea.
“Hey, do you have more of the ingredients here?” I asked Cearo.
“Yes, I have them stored in cupboards back there.” Without turning to me, she motioned to the back of the cottage, behind the kitchen. I went over and opened a cupboard door. Inside was a space much larger than a cupboard. It was a storage space the size of my garage. It was filled to the ceiling with food and firewood. It was good to know the Seelie could keep this blizzard up for months and we’d still have enough to eat. But that wasn’t my concern at the moment.
I rummaged around until I found everything I needed. There was plenty of flour and sugar and the rest of the basic dry ingredients. There was no vanilla extract, but I found a jug of what smelled like maple syrup. That would work just as well. I was pretty sure the dairy and eggs I found in a cooler hadn’t come from cows and chickens, but the hobs had used them, so they must be safe. I hauled out what I needed and dragged it over to the makeshift stove.
I grabbed a bowl and starting mixing. When I had the dough ready, the hobs had finished with their pancake and left the fire going for me. I scooped out some of my dough and made it into a little disc. I kept repeating this and plopped four of them onto the pan. I looked up to realize everyone was watching me now. “What?”
“Are you making cookies?” Eric asked.
“Uh…yeah.” I glanced down at my attempt. “I mean, kinda. I don’t have an oven but this should still work.”
I waited a second and was r
elieved when Eric yelled, “Awesome!” He came over to wait impatiently for his. Cearo and Mom followed. The hobs gathered around to watch the process. A few were poking at the remaining dough. One finally tasted a little and the expression on his tiny face was one of rapture. I laughed at him and flipped the cookies. “You guys haven’t discovered sugar cookies?”
They couldn’t understand me, but Cearo answered for them. “They do not know much modern food. They have learned a little based on what I bring back from the human world on occasion, but that is not much.”
“Have you had one?” I asked her.
“No.” She looked at them, unimpressed.
“Just wait.” I grinned at her, and Eric chuckled. I was worried they wouldn’t be good given the limited means, but they had started to smell delicious, so I was hopeful. They were going to blow her away.
When they were finally done and cooled, I held the plate out to her ceremoniously and said, “My lady.” She took one and studied it, clearly confused by how important we were making this seem.
“Oh, just eat it already,” Mom told her.
She took a bite. Her brows rose and a small smile appeared on her face. For Cearo, that was the equivalent of the hob’s rapture.
“And now you’re an addict like the rest of us,” I teased. I made seconds and thirds, and we devoured them like hungry pirahnas. I made a batch everyday until we ran out of eggs. Between the baking and the art lessons and the conversations that were getting less awkward by the minute, it seemed the four of us had finally let go of any problems.
Life in the cottage had started to feel like the norm during the last week or so. We were all in good spirits, and the urgency that had consumed us as we ran for our lives had left us. We were used to this place now, and it didn’t appear we’d be leaving anytime soon. But then with no warning, that proved false.
Eric and I were helping Cearo haul up some wood to the loft’s fireplace, when he noticed it was oddly quiet. “Do you hear that?” Eric asked.
“No,” I replied after listening for a second. “What?”
“Exactly. Why is it so quiet all of a sudden?”
I listened again. He was right. Everything was still and silent. I looked around for the change. “The wind,” I said. I went over to the window to confirm my suspicion. “The wind stopped.” Eric came to join me. Outside the air was calm and the sun was shining. There was no more storm battering the windows. The snow was still on the ground, but now that I was paying attention, I could feel it getting warmer as well. The snow would start to melt soon.
“We can leave,” Eric breathed. My mouth opened but no words left. Misinterpreting my hesitation, he said, “I mean, not right this second. But as soon as the snow melts enough….”
The snow wasn’t what I was concerned about, but I nodded at him. “We should tell Mom and Cearo.”
We headed downstairs to let them know. Mom’s reaction was identical to Eric’s. “We can go home?” When Eric nodded, she jumped up with a laugh and ran upstairs to see for herself.
Cearo’s reaction was more like mine. No smile, no words, just surprise and trying hard to think of what to say. Eric followed Mom upstairs, leaving Cearo and me alone to stare at each other. “You are leaving,” she said. It was not a question.
“Yeah,” I answered anyway.
She turned away, uncomfortable. “I do not want you to,” she whispered.
“Me neither,” I whispered back. She looked at me again to judge whether I meant it. I did. As much as I missed home and normal life, I didn’t want to leave her. How could I keep her?
We broke our gaze when Mom and Eric came back down to plan.