P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

Everyone moaned at her. “Harmony . . .”

Her laugh was brittle. “Sorry, it was too much fun to resist,” she said, thankful for the chance at an excuse for the displaced cups.

Then her strawberry bounced into the air. She snatched it. Before she could take a bite out of it and pretend nothing was wrong, she saw a tiny green creature hanging from the stem.

A little green man.

“Ah!” She dropped the berry into her grits with a noisy plop. Her mother glanced at her sharply. “A caterpillar,” she explained breathlessly. “The countryside is full of them.” Where did the green man go? Was it drowning?

Then Damon’s cup jerked forward. His hand slammed over it. “Aye, nothing we do seems to stop them.” Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear. He sounded sick at heart. “Snotlings.”

“What are those?” Her voice sounded strained and shaky, and a little bit crazed. “Wait, it doesn’t matter. How do we get rid of them?” She reached for the pitcher of water, and he caught her hand.

“Water has no effect,” he whispered. Harmony could see her family trying to catch a snatch of their hushed conversation. “They are the smallest of the green-skinned races. The orcs and goblins use them as slaves for simple tasks because they’re not intelligent creatures.”

A snotling peeked out from under her father’s plate. Harmony watched in dread as her father cut into his strawberry with his knife and fork. “They seem smart enough to me.”

“I mean, they are not a threat on their own to other creatures. They form gangs to attack.”

Jake Jr.’s strawberry rolled to the edge of the table. He caught it in his palm before it leaped off the edge. “Your table needs leveling, kiddo,” he informed Harmony. “The food is rolling off.”

She made a weak laugh. “There’s still so much to do around here.” Something green darted across her plate. She squished it under a biscuit. Her mother frowned at her, as if she were a child playing with her food. But that impression was better than the alternative.

The fork on Great-grandma’s plate rattled. Utterly calm, Eudora covered it with her napkin. What if Daddy’s plate was attacked next? Or Mama’s? What if they saw they weren’t caterpillars or flies? Perspiration trickled between Harmony’s breasts. Her heartbeat was erratic. She was never going to make it through this meal without passing out. Short of screaming fire, how was she going to evacuate her family from the kitchen?

“Bullies,” Damon muttered softly. “That’s all they are. Ye canna be afraid. Goodness will always win out. We are stronger than them. Far stronger.”

“Then why do they keep returning?” Harmony whispered.

“Because they can,” Eudora said. “Damon is correct. You have the power to eliminate them.”

“We’ve tried. Nothing works.”

“Call a pest control company,” Jake Jr. suggested, biting into a piece of bacon.

“Monday,” Harmony mumbled. “I’ll give them a call. If I’m not dead by then.”

The old woman frowned. “Satan torments you because your panic makes it fun. Take away the reason for his amusement, and he’ll forget about this place and move on. Not forever, mind you, but for now.”

Harmony tried to read the woman’s mysterious expression. “How do you know so much about Satan?”

Her eyes seemed suddenly ancient. “Oh, we’ve crossed paths before.”

“Grandma . . . please.” Daddy shook his head. “Let’s keep our mealtime conversations on happier things. Heaven, for instance, as opposed to Hell.”

Eudora placed her hands in her lap, primly, but Harmony didn’t buy it for a moment. “It’s always good to be grateful for what we have so much in abundance in this family,” she reminded him. “Our goodness.”

Murmurs of agreement went around the table.

Eudora continued with her little homily, addressing her father, even though Harmony knew the lesson was intended for her and Damon. “Because of your position and power, Jake, Satan toyed with our family more than once. He places temptation in our path, tries to ruin us, but I’m always ready for him. Always ready.”

She took Harmony’s hand and Damon’s and brought them together under the table. Damon’s fingers were hot and dry. Her body gave a little leap, remembering the feel of that hand sliding over her bare skin, doing the most amazing things. . . .

A cup clattered against a plate. Harmony squeaked and tried to pull away, but Eudora hissed at her. “No.”

“But—”

“No!” Eudora placed her arms over Harmony’s shoulders, Damon’s, too, and drew them close. “Believe in your power to defeat him, and you will. Fill your minds with goodness, and together push it outward. He’ll not be able to stand against you.”

“That sounds too simple.”

“It is. That’s what too few people remember. Good and evil. Right versus wrong. Yes versus no. There’s nothing complicated about it. Good repels wickedness. If it were otherwise, the world would have gone to hell in more ways than one eons ago.”

“Aye,” Harmony heard Damon murmur, as if he understood.

“Hold it right there, you three.” Robbie pushed back from the table. “Great picture!” He snapped a shot on his digital, and in the distraction of showing everyone the image, Eudora spoke under her breath to Harmony and Damon.

“Whenever it seems the Devil is near, join hands and think of goodness—of God.”

“Like a séance?” Robbie asked.

Eudora frowned at him. “Eat your eggs. Go on,” she urged Harmony and Damon. “The two of you. Try it. You are weak alone and most powerful together against the force of evil. Gather the light of goodness around you, the power, and then use it to fight Satan—to thrust him away. Let the light expand out from you, then push. Together, you will not lose.”

“Grandmother,” Daddy warned.

“Hush, boy! Can’t you see I’m teaching a lesson here? What is it with this family sometimes?” Eudora made a cluck of annoyance. “Together you can fight him off. And in fighting him off, you can fight them off.”

“The snotlings,” Harmony whispered.

“Now, let’s practice. Close your eyes and hold hands.”

Damon’s hand closed over Harmony’s as he shut his eyes. Their arms rested on Eudora’s lap, on the bright blue wool of her skirt.

“You, too, girl. Close your eyes.”

“Yes, Great-grandma.” Oh, how she didn’t want to listen! Not with little green men on the loose. If her mother were to see them, or Daddy, then the explanations would have to follow, and they’d learn about Damon—

“Now,” Eudora growled.

Harmony squeezed her eyes shut.

She could hear something scratching on her plate. Maybe the snotling was trying to dig out from under the biscuit. If she could just squish it back down . . .

But Damon held fast to her hand. Eudora pressed her hands over their clasped ones. “Think of good . . . as hard as you ever have.”

Harmony pursed her lips and concentrated, thinking of heaven and light, of faith and eternity . . . and the quiet hush of a snowy morning, of the softness of a baby’s head, the ripple of grass in the fields . . . the tenderness of Damon’s kiss, and that way he looked at her that morning in the twilight of dawn, when he’d held her so close. . . .

To her amazement a sense of assurance came over her, a strange and quiet confidence. And then, she sensed the press of Damon’s mind against hers, the first time she’d felt him reaching out to her with his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she opened up and let him in.

A burst of light exploded behind her eyes. Damon’s hand convulsed in hers, and Eudora made a quiet sound of approval. “Yes, children. That’s what you do. Now fight. Push.”