Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The forest was alive today. Even with the storm, it felt like everything felt alive rather than in hibernation.
The sound of animals crunching through the frozen layers kept me alert.
There were cougars in the area, and some black bears, though they generally didn’t come out during the winter.
We also had coyotes—and now, apparently coyote shifters—and foxes, squirrels and feral cats, and bobcats and, well, the Pacific Northwest was home to more animals than even the woods surrounding Y’Elestrial.
I tugged my jacket tighter and finally gave in and zipped it up.
I had grabbed a knit cap, scarf, and gloves that Iris had made for me from the house before heading out, and now I was glad I had.
The temperature was down to thirty-one, just below freezing, and like most of the area, Seattle was known for its wet-cold.
Dry cold was easier to handle; the lack of humidity made the cold and snow easier to manage.
I set off on the trail down to Birchwater Pond, pausing as I saw Cromwell heading my way.
I didn’t feel like shifting, so I knelt down, squatting on my heels as he meandered over.
I held out my gloved hand and he sniffed it, then rubbed against the side of my fingers. He never did that around anyone else.
“I’m looking for something,” I said. “But I’m not sure what. Something that shouldn’t be here. Something malevolent…”
Cromwell stared at me for a moment, then bumped his head against my foot, turned around, and began to walk deeper into the woods. He paused and looked back, letting out a soft meow.
“Do you want me to follow you?” I asked.
He meowed again.
“Hold on,” I said. I stood and focused on my Tabby nature, feeling the transformation coming on.
I began to change: bones morphing, skin changing, form shifting.
It hurt, and yet it didn’t. One moment I was my human self, and the next—I was staring at the world through feline eyes.
When I was younger, the change had disoriented me for a few moments, but after so many years of shape-shifting, it felt entirely natural.
I turned to Cromwell. He patiently waited. Where are we going?
Follow me. I found something the other day. It doesn’t belong. He turned back to the path and began to pad through the snow, shaking his paws every few steps. The white rain’s too cold, he added, and I noticed he was walking with an almost imperceptible limp.
I thought to ask him about it, but cats hid their pain—it made them vulnerable, and that was dangerous in the wild world. How old are you? I wasn’t sure he would understand the concept of time, though I knew he understood later and before.
Old? My mother birthed me long ago. I’ve seen many nights since I was a kitten.
I had the feeling Cromwell was up there in age.
He looked old, and one of his ears was ragged; probably from a fight.
He led me through the woods toward the pond.
Finally, he stopped next to a stone carved like a red-capped mushroom.
They called them fly agaric here. At home they’d been called portal mushrooms because they were connected with doorways and portals and magical entrances. The stone was about seven inches tall.
I stared at it for a moment. There was magic there—I could feel it in my bones.
Where did this come from?
I don’t know, but I can tell you, it wasn’t here seven befores ago.
Cromwell often used the word ‘before’ to mean a day.
Seven suns ago?
Yes. It appeared early one morning. I was here, chasing a mouse, and it wasn’t here. Then I came back and it was. It brings danger. Can you feel it?
I studied the stone. Sure enough, I could feel a malevolence emanating from it. This stone did indeed feel menacing. I glanced around, looking for anything that might be connected to it, but there didn’t seem to be anything else in the area.
Do you know who brought it here?
Cromwell paused, staring at the stone. His whiskers twitched. He said, Little men. Mean men. I ran, because they bring great danger.
Little men? Just how little was he talking? What kind of little men? Short humans?
No, the little men. They smell like blood, and they love to hurt. I stay away from here because they might come back. We should leave.
Cromwell had once stood up to a pit bull—I knew that from listening to his stories. If he was afraid of these little men, then they must be dangerous.
Go ahead and leave. I left food out for you. I want to sniff around in my two-footed form.
Be careful then. And…thank you. Cromwell turned and raced off, looking relieved.
I waited until he was gone, then shifted back.
Kneeling down, I eyed the stone again. The sense of dread still clung to the statue.
I started to pick it up, but hesitated. We’d had a cursed charm tossed on our porch.
What if this was cursed as well? And was it connected to the charm?
I pulled off my scarf and tied it to the nearest tree so that I could find the stone again, then turned and jogged back to the house.
Cromwell was right. Whatever was here, it didn’t belong, and we needed to find out who and what it was, and what it wanted.
Back at the house, Camille’s car was gone, and I found Iris in the kitchen, kneading bread dough. We’d offered to buy a bread machine so she wouldn’t have to do that, but she insisted that she enjoyed the process. She looked up as I came in.
“Boots on the back porch, please,” she said, giving the ball of dough a resounding smack before lifting it into the mixing bowl and covering it with a towel. “What were you doing out there? It’s far too cold to go running around in the woods.”
“You’re one to talk,” I said, pulling off my boots and setting them out on the porch. “You live for this weather.”
“I might love a snowflake or two, but you aren’t used to it,” she said, cleaning the counter.
“We have snow back in Otherworld,” I said. “I was talking to Cromwell. He showed me something that I think we need to investigate.”
“Does it have to do with Lukia’s situation? Camille filled me in on what was going on before she left for the bookshop.” Iris handed me a cookie that was fresh out of the oven. “Here, try these. I’m working on a new recipe for chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Tell me what you think.”
I bit down on the cookie and melted, along with the chocolate chunks inside the cookies. “I think they’re a hit,” I said as soon as I’d swallowed the bite. “Fantastic. And I don’t know if it has anything to do with Lukia,” I said. “It does scare me, though.”
“What happened?” Iris poured herself a cup of tea. I shook my head, opening the fridge. I poured myself a big glass of milk, took two more cookies, and sat down at the table with her.
“Well…I found a stone. Cromwell showed it to me, actually. It appears to be a carving—a statue of sorts.”
“What kind of statue?” Iris was sitting on the chair we’d had specially made for her that boosted her up so she could sit at the table normally. She looked about twenty-two, though I knew she was far older than that.
“It seems to be…well…I’d say it’s a large mushroom. I think one of the red-capped kind. What are they called? Fly agaric? At least by the looks of the carving. I suppose it could be a regular toadstool.”
Iris froze. “What did you say?”
I frowned, repeating myself. “It was just sitting there on the ground. Cromwell said, to the best that I can gather, that it wasn’t there a week ago, and then it just appeared.”
“Oh no,” Iris said. “I need to see this statue, but I might know what it is.” She paled; her skin so waxen she looked like a porcelain doll.
“You’re scaring me, Iris.” The look on her face was enough to frighten me.
“If it’s what I think it is, you should be afraid,” she said. “Go get it as soon as you’ve finished your milk and cookies.”
“Can I bring it back to the house? I didn’t know if that was wise.”
“Wise? Perhaps not. But if it’s what I think it is, it won’t make anything worse.” She sipped her tea, shaking her head. “I come from a land filled with woodland spirits. I’m a Talon-haltija myself. A house sprite. But not all of us are friendly, and many are downright dangerous.”
I played with my cookie, nibbling on the edge. “You’re part of the Fae Kingdom, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but there are many types of Fae—as you already know.”
“What about the Hags of Fate, like Grandmother Coyote? Is she part of the Fae kingdom?”
Again, Iris shook her head. “No. The Hags of Fate are Immortals. But there are the Elder Fae—surely you have them over in Otherworld as well?”
“I think so,” I said. “But I don’t know much about them. There are also the great Fae Lords—the ones who initiated the Great Divide. That must have been a terrifying thing to live through. I can’t imagine what happened. The turmoil it caused.”
“They ripped the worlds apart. I don’t think I want to know what it was like,” she said. “The Elder Fae are unique, each to their own. They’re far more powerful than most of the regular Fae. They predated the Fae races.”
“So, you think this statue belongs to some sort of fae?” I asked.
“Maybe. I’d have to see it to be able to tell.” She refilled her teacup. “The question is, what’s it doing on your land?”
“And…does it have something to do with Lukia’s situation?
We’re near enough that whatever it is, it might have wandered over to her place from here.
And the charm she found—and touched—was the same that we had on our porch.
I’m glad that we didn’t actually touch the one we found.
” I crossed to the back porch. “I’ll go get that statue now. But I’m wearing gloves.”
“I don’t blame you,” Iris said, grinning. “It’s cold out there.”
“You know what I meant,” I said. As I headed back to the woods, I kept my eyes out. But even though the thicket seemed unusually quiet, the only thing I saw was a fox racing for the cover of a large fern.
Iris gingerly picked up the statue. “Yeah, this looks vaguely familiar.”
“Where do you think it came from?”