15. Pippi
Alana had not been lying when she’d said the healing would hurt. Boy, did it.
Nothing had healed, though. The wound on my thigh hadn’t even started to scab. I had to rewrap it in the bathroom when blood seeped through the bandages and made small ink blot patterns on my frilly skirt. Teal paired well with most colors. Crimson was not one of them.
Thankfully, I was able to flag down a staff member who got me a tin of dust— magical dust. I sprinkled it over my skirt, waited exactly sixty seconds, as directed, rinsed it off and… Voila. No more bloodstains.
“Ye can keep that,” the robust female staff member told me when I stuttered my thank yous and tried to give the tin back. “We get shipments of ‘em near weekly, so ye’ll not be putting us out none.”
I smiled, patted her arm in thanks, and tucked the tin into my pocket, mentally calculating how much use I’d be able to get out of the dust. Magical stain removers would come in very handy.
With my dress saved, and the bloat deflating, I felt better when we headed for the tour.
But a scorching ache crept into my bones—the sort of deep, gnawing pain you’d get with a fever—as we lined up outside the alicorn stables. And it sharpened, until it felt like I had glass shards burrowing into my feet, razor blades peeling the flesh off my thigh, and a chain saw grinding my ribs.
I’d smiled, though, at the gathering crowd, and had managed to dig up some laughter when our enigmatic tour guide chucked some cheesy jokes at us.
“Can anyone tell me why Mayo would be the best name for any horse, alicorn, and all equines?” The broad-chested guide swiveled his hazel eyes around the group. “Anyone? Because when they talk, you can declare, ‘Mayo neighs!’”
The cluster of kids in our group giggled. The adults mainly rolled their eyes, but we all gave him a good-natured chuckle. And then we were off, on an hour walking tour that I remembered none of.
I was so focused on ignoring the pain, on smiling and trying to look like a happy-go-lucky tourist, that there wasn’t any room left in my brain to absorb information.
Some parts stuck, sure. Like how very big the black furred alicorns looked while they rested in their airy box stalls, and how gentle they were when they were asked to step out into the aisle.
Children ran around them, shrieking in delight, while everyone else poked and prodded and asked questions.
The alicorns stood still, allowing the touches, and cordially answered each query.
The stables themselves were pristine, with spotless cobblestone floors and glistening black doors on the box stalls.
Five gold chandeliers dangled overhead, suspended from the arched mahogany rafters.
Above that, the ceiling opened to an expansive skylight, which coaxed as much illumination as it could from the fog-swaddled sky.
Afterward, as we took the wagon back to our cottage, Jackson buzzed with excitement. “I did not know all that. About how these creatures… are. Were. Did you?”
I clung to his exuberance nearly as tightly as I clung to his hand, trying to distract myself from the proverbial knives flaying ribbons of skin off my thigh. “Ummmm…which thing was that again?”
“Where they came from.”
“Ah.” Had that been a tour topic?
Jackson chuckled and tapped his thumb against my knuckles. “Did we lose you for a bit at that part? Or…wait, that might’ve been when you were off petting that alicorn with the blue mane.”
I vaguely remembered that. I had gravitated to one of the alicorns who’d had doleful eyes and seemed a little forlorn, and I’d given him neck scritches, hoping to cheer him up. But I couldn’t recall if he’d had blue in his mane.
“They were saying it’s some kinda old magic,” Jackson said. “When magic was a lot more common and not regulated. That five hundred or whatever years ago, the people on this island, back when it was part of Scotland, got cursed. ”
“But that’s illegal . To curse people.” Sorcerers had been executed for doing so. It was rare, when one tried to circumvent the law and drop a curse on someone, but it got splashed all across every news channel, magazine, blogging site, and social media feed when it happened.
“Yeah, now it is, but it wasn’t then. Because the town here got cursed.
Everyone who died there couldn’t just die, they had to come back as something else.
So thousands of people kicked the bucket and resprouted as alicorns and banshees, and basically the full mythical creature alphabet. And then they all…disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yeah. I guess everyone figured they’d died-died. And that was that.” He tapped my thigh. “This is our stop!”
My brain sputtered as I clambered off the wagon beside him. “I…Wait, are these…The alicorns and all…they’re not those people from five hundred years ago? Are they?”
The two alicorns pulling the wagon whuffled, as though they’d heard me.
“Stars, that was rude. Sor—” I pivoted to face them, but they’d already turned away, pulling the wagon of chattering tourists to the next stop. “—ry. Sorry.”
“They might be five-hundred-year-old farts.” Jackson shrugged. “Or might be those people banged out a bunch of kids, and these are their offspring. No one knows. Not even the creatures.”
“How can they not know?”
“The spell that held them here. Up until it was lifted six years ago, it was fucking with their memories.”
My stomach tilted—either from the sorrow that slammed me at the thought of that alicorn with the doleful eyes, of Alistair being trapped here for five hundred years, or from the vicious bite of pain that savaged my bones.
I swayed.
“Whoa, babe.” Jackson grabbed my arm. “You doing okay?”
No. My bones are being crushed into dust and my skin is on fire.
“I’m achy,” I said.
“I guess that’s a sign the healing stuff’s working, though, right? It’s about fucking time, too. Do we have any Tylenol you can take?” He led me to the door of our cottage.
“Yeah.” I had already popped some. It’d done nothing.
“Well—” Jackson started but cut off when a voice to our right trilled, “Yooo-hooo!”
I turned. Melany and her partner were at the door to their cottage, a mere two lots down from ours. Close enough to make out their shapes in the fog, although I had to squint to make sure it was them. And then I smiled, even as my bones gave an exhausted grind.
Because I liked them. Genuinely. Melany with her vibrant joy, and her partner with her gentle snark. They were good people. Granted I didn’t really know them, but sometimes you didn’t need to memorize a person’s life history to know you’d found a friend.
“Good afternoon!” I waved at them. “Having a good trip so far?”
“Lovely.” Melany gave a contented sigh. “We just returned from the fields. Sarah was drawing the will-o’-the-wisps!” Melany motioned enthusiastically to her partner, who smiled and held up a worn leather sketchbook.
“I don’t know that this does them justice though.” Sarah tapped her sketchbook against her thigh.
“They were so gorgeous. Especially in the fog like that. ” Melany heaved a dreamy sigh. “And so is your drawing, love. I can’t wait to see it painted. I hope you’ll not sell this one.”
“This one is all for you.” Sarah’s mouth quirked into a warm smile when Melany made a happy sound. “Anyway, just because I’m a curious nosey body, I have to know, where have you two come from?” she asked Jackson and me.
“The alicorn stables,” we answered in unison.
“Ohhhh, the tour?” Melany trilled. “How was it?”
“The stables are gorgeous,” I said.
“We’ll have to do that.” Melany turned to Sarah, who shrugged, smiled, and said, “Sure thing.”
“And maybe we should find the will-o’-the-wisps tomorrow?” I looked at Jackson, who rolled his shoulder.
“I know it’s a bit warm and muggy and all, and not really hot tea weather, but would you two like to join us for a cup?” Melany asked. “Or a cuppa , as the Brits call it. I love how that rolls off the tongue.”
The pain gnawing at my bones gave a particularly vicious munch, preemptively scolding me for the words it knew I would say. “A cup of tea sounds fabulous right now.”
Melany grinned.
Jackson’s brow pinched.
I took pity on him. “I’m sure you’d rather not chitchat with us gals, huh? That’s fine, you don’t have to. Maybe you can figure out which bar fare we’re gonna have for lunch?”
“You sure you’re up for a tea visit?”
No. I want to sprawl out on the bed and zonk out until at least tomorrow.
“I won’t be long. Fifteen, twenty minutes tops.” I stood on my toes, dropping a nuzzling kiss to his lips.
“Do you want greasy or extra greasy for lunch?” he asked.
My stomach balked. “Hmmm, tough choice. But I’ll have to go with plain greasy.” I flashed what I hoped was a smile and not a grimace, as I strolled across the gap of stony terrain that separated our cottage from Melany and Sarah’s.
“I’m so tickled we caught you today.” Euphoria warbled off Melany in big, galumphing waves as I approached. “I was telling Sarah this morning that you were such a dear and we needed to kidnap you from the hubby at some point.”
“We wouldn’t have actually kidnapped you.” Sarah gave my shoulder a friendly pat as she ushered me into their cottage. “But we might’ve held you under ransom.”
This time, my smile felt a little looser because their happiness was infectious.
“Apologies for the disarray,” Melany added once we shuffled through the door.
Their cottage was a different color—canary yellow and sky blue—but the interior layout was exactly the same as ours.
It had a more lived-in feel though, with clutter on the kitchen counter, clothes strung over the back of the couch, and food scattered over the coffee table.
It was inviting. Made it feel more like a home, rather than a generic isle cottage.
“We’ve never been much for housekeeping.” Sarah dumped her sketchbook onto the sofa.
“I like it,” I said. “My mom had a saying that a house wasn’t a home until it’d been broken in with some clutter.”