Gillian Summers: The goblin's curse

“Add your dad to the mix, and your hill is the place to be. You can look forward to lots of low-cut bodices and hip-waggling action in front of Heartwood,” Raven said, laughing, no doubt at the dismay Keelie was sure was plastered on her face.

Sean waved his arms and Keelie led the way to a table by the bar. From here she had a great view of Knot, who was listening intently to Vangar, a shot glass of golden liquid in front of him.

“Does your cat drink Scotch?” Sean’s tone implied that he’d believe it.

“Oh no. Strictly mead.” Keelie watched as the bartender poured more of the thick, sweet liquid into Knot’s and Vangar’s glasses. Vangar touched his glass to Knot’s and the two drank.

Keelie wondered what Knot’s toast would be. “To many mice,” perhaps, or “Capture a bhata and shred it for luck.” He didn’t get along with the little sticklike fairies. Luckily, unlike mice, the bhata could rebuild their bodies out of found materials.

A platter mounded with grilled chicken, vegetables, and brown rice appeared on the table and the three of them dug in, enjoying the antics of their fellow faire workers. Performers of all types took turns on the tiny stage, playing everything from fiddles and Celtic harps to spoons and buckets.

At midnight the cook chased everyone out, claiming that whoever stayed had to clean up for the next day. Keelie found herself on the road again, arm around Sean’s waist, as Raven told them about life with a husband who turned into a unicorn part-time. It reminded Keelie that Raven had some fairy blood, and she might need to use any skills that came with that.

“Would you like to come to the meadow with me tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Sure,” Raven said. She had her head thrown back and was staring at the stars as she walked. “What time? And why?”

“After breakfast. And why-well, because of the goblin blood that was shed there.” She didn’t add, because I killed a Red Cap. Raven knew.

“So you want to see if the taint is still there, in the soil?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s safe to go there?” Sean’s smile had vanished.

“Probably. It’s the tree I planted that I’m worried about.”

Raven pushed back her black curls. “Okay, sure. Come by the shop and get me.”

Sean’s teeth flashed in a moonlit grin. “Have fun revisiting the scene of your glorious and victorious battle.”

Was he being a jerk on purpose? Keelie decided to laugh it off. She pretended to shudder. “Scariest day of my life. No wait, that was in New York, when the trees went crazy. No no, that would be in California, when the Redwoods kidnapped my grandmother. Or maybe-”

Raven laughed. “I get it. Life as an elf is crazy.” They’d arrived at Green Lady Herbs. She waved good night and disappeared around the back of the building.

“Elf lives don’t seem to be crazy for everyone. Just my family,” Keelie said glumly to Sean. “We seem to attract trouble.”

“We?” Sean looked around. “I see no one else. You’re the one that draws trouble like a flame draws moths. It’s all that power.”

Keelie held out her hands and looked at her fingers, slim and pale. Kind of puny-looking, actually. “I don’t feel powerful.”

“And yet you are. You’ve always had the power to solve problems, and that’s put you in great danger. It attracts formidable beings. But I want you to know I’ll always have your back and protect you.”

“Sean.” Keelie detected fear emanating from him, and she wanted to reassure him she could take care of herself.

“We’ll talk later.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “What do the trees tell you now, Keelie?”

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the pine-scented air. “They’re grumbling about the parking in the campground. And someone has an open fire. Dad heard. He’s taking care of it.” She opened her eyes and smiled at Sean. “Elf girls can be normal, right?”

“Most elf girls don’t talk to trees.”

A feithid daoine, a fairy shaped like a black beetle, droned by and squeaked a greeting, which Keelie returned.

“Most elf girls don’t talk to bugs.”

“It was a fairy.”

“Elves can’t see fairies.” He looked serious now. “It looked like a bug.”

“But I’m part fairy.” Keelie counted off on her fingers. “And part elf. And part human. I’m a total mongrel.” She sighed.

The grim look vanished and Sean smiled his brightest. “ My mongrel.” He leaned forward, eyes on her mouth again, and she jumped away. She didn’t need the trees to tell her that another scorching kiss and she’d be asking him upstairs for more. Bright yellow eyes were watching her from the upstairs window, another reason not to invite him up.

“I plan to get up early tomorrow,” she said, edging toward the stairs. “Want to have breakfast at Mrs. Butters’?”

“Sure. Six thirty?”

She gulped. She was thinking “early” meant eight. “Okay. Six thirty it is. Good night, Sean.”

“Good night, Keelie. And I forgot to tell you-we have a new faire administrator, and she’s supposed to be making rounds tomorrow.”

Keelie shrugged. “Dad’s got everything in order, I’m sure. I’m just anxious to get to the meadow to make sure everything’s okay.”

Keelie awoke in the dark before dawn, with the sky turning lighter to the east. She opened her eyes and took in the sleepy, early morning sounds of the faire. Murmurs and doors opening and shutting. Later would come the hammering, and voices, and laughter.

“Ah, my sleepyhead is up.” Dad, brown hair loose and curling over his shoulders, pushed aside the bedroom curtain and set a steaming mug of tea on the nightstand by her bed (cypress, from Florida).

He was in Ren Faire mode all right. Usually he had his hair in a loose ponytail that hid his pointed elven ears.

“Dad, did Knot come home with you? I haven’t seen him at all. ”

“He’s around. He was sleeping at the foot of your bed when I got home.” Dad pulled the curtain shut so that she would have privacy as she dressed.

Keelie sat up and reached for the mug, looking around the area that was her bedroom. The sun’s first rays shone against the many-paned windows, illuminating the wooden wardrobe, her battered Wellingtons, the trunk of clothes Dad had brought from the Dread Forest. The thick leather Elven Compendium of Household Charms lay on top, a dozen colorful sticky notes protruding from its pages, her massive and never-ending homework assignment.

She wondered where Knot had gone. Cricket was nowhere to be seen, either. He didn’t get along with Knot and was probably hiding somewhere, chewing on a plastic bottle. Goblins ate paper and plastic, which was why cities were infested with them. During their brief layover in the Dread Forest, Grandmother Keliatiel had compared Cricket to a cockroach and offered to stomp it.

Keelie had to scramble to keep the little guy safe, although Grandmother’s cockroach analogy had given her pause. Would she have kept a roach as a pet? Yuck.

She also didn’t understand why she was missing Knot-the-obnoxious-feline when he wasn’t around. She hoped it wasn’t backwash from the spell they’d put on the Redwood Forest sign in California. One of Knot’s bits of furry orange fluff had fallen in at the last second, and the spell-cast compulsion to love and respect the forest now included the love of cats, too.

More likely, she missed him because he was always around-as her appointed fairy guardian.

“Garb today, or jeans?” she asked loudly. “Garb” was the faire folks’ word for “costume,” and at the Ren Faire some people lived and breathed earlier times. Others donned jeans at the end of the day. The High Mountain Faire always had a pirate theme, and Keelie was looking forward to being all piratey. Last year she hadn’t known anything about faire life and missed out on a lot of fun.