Goblins

Megan felt a knot untie itself in her chest. "We'll go?" she said.

"I don't understand what you're saying, but yes, if you feel this strongly then we can go. I know how much you care about the twins. We came here because...I don't know why, really. Something about family. After their mother...that is to say...well, I don't think this place is really doing any good for all of us after all, is my point. So we'll go."

"Oh, Peter. Thank you."

"It will take a few days to put everything in order. In the meantime, if you really think there's any danger then make sure one of the staff is with the children all the time. I trust that you'll eventually tell me what this is all about?"

"I will. I'm so relieved that I...excuse me, I'm sorry." If she said anything more she would probably cry, so instead she kissed his hand again.

"Go tell the children," Peter said. Then he made a kind of sigh. "And if you want the garden boy to come with us I'm sure we can find something for him to do in the city."

Megan almost tripped on her dress. "Oh. I..." But this was no time to think about that (if there even was a time?), so she left without saying more. She had a spring in her step as she went to the kitchens. Even meeting Mrs. Rhoslyn there could not spoil her mood. She appeared to be baking.

"Bakestones," she said. "Try one." Megan accepted and found they were good. Mrs. Rhoslyn talked while she picked one apart.

"I hear you've lost your young man."

"I'm sure I don't know who you mean, but it would be none of your business even if I did."

"Don't be tart. I was just going to say what a shame it was. He has a good head on his shoulders. And good shoulders, for that matter. Do you know what tonight is?" Mrs. Rhoslyn wiped her flour-covered fingers on her apron. "It's Midsummer's Eve. Sneaks right up on you when you're not paying attention, doesn't it? My father once met a gwyllion on the road one Midsummer's Eve. I don't suppose you know what a gwyllion is?"

Megan did not.

"Trouble is what they are," was all Mrs. Rhoslyn would say. "Led my poor father quite a chase. He didn't hold any grudge, though. He knew he oughtn't to have been out on a mountain road on that of all nights."

Megan had finished the cake by now and brushed her hands off. "What exactly are you saying, Mrs. Rhoslyn?"

"Only that it can be a bad night for strangers. If they're not careful."

The lingering taste of the cake seemed bitter in Megan's mouth now.

Megan tucked the children back in their old bedroom that night (since the study had proved no safer). Then she paced the hall, chewing her fingernails. A few more days in this place. It didn't feel safe to sleep. She wanted to see Bryn, but of course he wasn't there. The idea of his little cottage dark and empty made her heart ache.

A lump under the cushion made her jump up when she sat in the nearest chair. It turned out to be a heavy black book. She saw that it was one of Flora's storybooks, though now that she looked at it she could not recall ever having seen this particular one until a week ago, and was not sure where it had come from. Opening it, she found that a few pages were particularly worn. She recognized the story on the first:

"'The fair Burd Ellen has been carried off by the fairies. She is now in the Dark Tower of the King of Elfland. It would take the boldest knight in Christendom to bring her back.' So the eldest brother of Burd Ellen set out for Elfland. But long they waited, and longer still, and woe were the hearts of his brethren, for he came not back again..."

But the second she did not know:

"In our Savior's time there lived a woman whose fortune it was to be possessed of nearly a score of children. As she saw our blessed Lord approach her dwelling, being ashamed of being so prolific, she concealed about half of them. But they never afterwards could be discovered, for as a punishment from heaven for hiding what God had given her she was deprived of them. And it is said these her offspring have generated the race called fairies."

It was a strange tale. Megan read it twice more but could not make sense of it. She looked back and forth between the two stories, murmuring to herself. Missing children...

Tiny footsteps drew her attention. She spotted Flora's curls and one bright blue eye peeking around a corner, and then she heard a giggle as the girl ran off again. Megan frowned. How had she gotten out of bed? She called out: "Get back here this instant."

More giggles.

"I'm warning you."

Instead the tiny footsteps ran off the other way. Opening the door she found Miles, at least, still under the covers, but he was awake and looked troubled. She stroked his hair. "What's wrong?"

"Flora's gone."

"She's running around past her bedtime. I'll get her."

"No," Miles said. "She's gone." And he pointed. The window was open.

A tense feeling that had been hanging over Megan all week snapped. It took all of her reserve not to panic. Her knuckles whitened on Miles' arm. "Go find your father," she told Miles. "Right now." Miles went.

Megan stepped into the hall. The sound of footsteps led to the library. Creeping along with the candle in front of her, she pushed on the door. There was Flora, doll in hand, bent over some old books on the floor. The empty spot on the shelves was up near the ceiling. Megan swallowed. "Come here," she said, careful to keep her voice steady.

The girl looked up but did not come, hugging her doll to her chest.

"Did you say your prayers tonight?" Megan said.

Flora nodded. Her curls bounced.

"Let's say them again, just to be sure." Megan held her rosary out. Flora looked at it.

"I don't feel like it," she said.

"Be a good girl," Megan said. She moved a step closer, rosary in hand. Flora backed away.

"Just take it," Megan said.

"No."

"Take it."

"I said no!"

"Flora, you take it right now or I'll—"

"You'll do WHAT, you prying bitch?!"

Flora's face stretched like melting candle wax. She threw the doll down and ran, and when she reached the wall she passed right through it. A green haze marked the spot where she'd stood.

Megan grabbed the chair to keep from fainting. Her heartbeat galloped. She realized she was holding the rosary so tightly that it hurt, but she didn't let go. Taking one deliberate step at a time, she went to the dining room. Mrs. Rhoslyn found her halfway there. "Get Peter," Megan said. "Get the hounds ready. We have to find Flora."

"I'm sure Sir Rowland's gone to bed already," Mrs. Rhoslyn said. "Which I guess means you're late, dear, but there's still time yet to earn your keep for the night if you catch up to him now."

"You're not listening: Flora is gone. She's run away with the hill people, or they've taken her. We have to..."

But her voice trailed off in a slur. Something was wrong. She almost fell but Mrs. Rhoslyn caught her. Holding Megan up, she shook her and then held her eyelids open, looking at her pupils. She was talking but it was a moment before the words registered:

"...bakestones finally kicking in. It won't hurt you. It'll just see that you sleep the night through, for your own good." Megan tried to mumble a question but the words came out thick and jumbled. "Sir Rowland had two an hour ago so you won't raise a peep out of him. Just let it happen."

Mrs. Rhoslyn appeared to be gently lowering her to the floor. Through the drowsiness Megan produced a word: "Flora."

Mrs. Rhoslyn sighed. "It's Midsummer. They have to have their tithe. The Good Lord only knows the sorts of things they'll do to the rest of us if we don't let them."

Mrs. Rhoslyn's voice was receding. Alarmed, Megan realized she was leaving. "It's nobody's fault but yours," she said, and then she was gone. Megan was alone.

She tried to focus. The room was spinning. Her body felt like a dead thing. She was lying, she realized, beneath one of the portraits of Lady Rowland. She was sure she was imagining that its expression had changed to one of sadistic triumph. She willed herself to stand. It was slow going. Step by clumsy step, leaning on the walls to keep from falling over and praying all the while that she'd make it before her strength came out, she crept down the hall, through the entryway, down the front steps and into the gardens. The flowers, it seemed, were all alight, and the way they bent and bobbed in the breeze suggested an obscene dance, though Megan wondered if perhaps the poison had made her delirious, and none of this was even real.

By the time she came to the foot of the hill she had to crawl. She was certain now that phantom lights really were dancing among the trees. The night forest was a foggy mass of unreal colors, blues and pale greens and decayed yellows. She heard music and the sound of feet shuffling in strange dances. Her body hurt. She wanted very much to lie down and sleep, but she had to find Flora first. What she would do then she had no idea, but still she crept inch by painful inch through the haunted woods, following the music.

Up ahead, in a clearing, she thought she saw Flora dancing barefoot in the grass, spinning in a wild circle around a maypole, and with her some dozen others, oddly shaped and oddly dressed. Megan tried to call out but she had no more strength left, and she fell in a heap among the leaves. In a moment Flora was shaking her and saying her name, and some of the dark creatures were with her. "Get up," Flora said. "We'll make you better."

Megan licked her lips. "Run away. Back to the house." Did she really speak, or did she only think she did?

"The queen has magic that can make you all better," Flora said. "Can't you stand?"

"Can't move..."

"We'll carry you."

Crooked arms picked Megan up. She tried to resist or at least object, but it was too hard. It took all her strength to stay awake, and soon she wouldn't even be able to do that. Flora was skipping along the path ahead of them. "They say Mother will be there. We can all dance and sing and be a family. They promised." The face of the thing carrying her was too indistinct to make out, but Megan thought perhaps it grinned.

She drifted in and out of consciousness. She was in a place she did not recognize, a stone room or perhaps a cave. The light here was bright and frightening, and she heard terrible voices singing. Somewhere she thought she heard Flora talking, and a woman whispering, but it was hard to tell what was real now.

"We'll take you where there's a fair castle, and the best appointed troops, and minstrels who know every kind of music, and youths and maidens of elegant aspect, and everything is magnificent..."

"But can't we stay here just a little longer?" Flora said, sounding doubtful. And the strange woman replied: No, no, no.

Megan was not sure if she was drifting into sleep or death, but she hoped it was the latter. If she ever woke again, she was terrified of where she might find herself.