Читать книгу Darkling Green - Kim Thompson - Страница 6

Telepathy, phobias, and siren song

As November drew to an end, the temperature dropped, and Miss Trang continued to slow down. When Willa chatted with her, she had time to count the seconds between each word. One day she counted four seconds, a few days later eighteen seconds, and when it hit twenty-seven, Willa started avoiding her. She felt bad about it, but it was just too hard to remember what they were talking about for the length of an entire sentence. Miss Trang didn’t seem to mind; she withdrew from the life of the house and rarely emerged from her room.

Tengu spent most of his time jogging around the park, or stalking and pouncing on invisible foes in the yard. The dwarves continued work on the second storey. They also removed the high construction fence to give back the view of the street but put up fencing at the sides of the house to keep the backyard private.

Robert hosted convivial evenings with the dwarves, and the others sometimes joined in. Ancient card games were played, and a goodly volume of red dwarvish port was consumed.

For his part, Horace never played cards. He preferred to sit by the fire and observe the others. His memory lapses used to cause him much anxiety, but after the recent uproar he had become much more philosophical about it all. Whenever he couldn’t remember something, he’d simply sigh and smile. He told Willa it was foolish for anyone over two thousand years of age to get fired up over simply growing old.

“It behooves one of my advanced years to be more serene about the travails of existence,” he would say dreamily and smile. “There’s no point in flipping out over what I can’t change.” Willa noticed too that the others had become more protective of him. Whenever Horace grew confused, they — Belle and Baz mostly — drew near, taking his hand in theirs and reassuring him with their presence.

Whatever might befall his memory, Horace’s sense of humour remained intact. One day, he and Willa were out for a walk, and they ran into Mr. and Mrs. Hacker, their tremendously irritating neighbours. Horace showed no signs of recognizing them, but after they passed by he leaned over to Willa, and whispered, “I know perfectly well who they are, I’d just rather not know, if you catch my meaning.”

Since the eventful night on Hanlan’s Hill, the Hackers had kept a wary distance. Willa knew Mr. Hacker had been quite shaken by those strange events, not the least of which was having his car crushed by a falling boulder. He even seemed a little frightened of Horace and Willa, often crossing the street to avoid them, which suited them just fine.

Willa had recently discovered she was able to send mental messages to people, an ability that filled her with pride but also made her a little anxious, because she didn’t really understand how it could be possible. She felt she shouldn’t let too many people know about it yet, but decided she could confide in Horace.

“Do you remember on Hanlan’s Hill, how I talked to you with my mind?” she asked him one day.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been wondering how I did it. How does it work?”

He looked surprised. “In the usual way, I suppose.”

“This isn’t exactly usual!”

“What do you mean? Don’t all humans have this ability?”

“No!” Willa laughed.

“Well, that puts it in a different light,” Horace said slowly. “It must be due to the renegade in your family tree.”

“You mean Belle?”

“Most certainly. Would you like some assistance with your telepathic communications?”

“Yes, please.”

And so Horace began to help her strengthen and control this power. They’d sit across from each other and send mental messages back and forth. In the beginning, Willa could only do it slowly and with great effort, but with practice it came easier, and they held many a long, effortless conversation without uttering a word.

“It’s as easy as talking!” Willa marvelled one day. “I hardly know I’m doing it!”

Horace shook a warning finger at her. “Be mindful. Do it with intent and not just for a lark.” He sat back wearily. “Don’t overuse it. All powers come with a price.”

“What kind of price?”

“It’s not always obvious what you are losing. Not right away.” He rubbed his forehead. “Many would disagree with me and insist that a special ability has no downside, but I feel in my heart that something is lost whenever you gain a powerful skill like this.” He turned to look out the window, and Willa knew he was thinking about his own memory loss. She promised herself she’d practice her ability but not use it lightly. And she never mentioned it to anyone else.

A few doors down from Horace was Belle’s room. The mermaid was very pleased to have her own space again; she was much more relaxed and less cranky. The porch ramp allowed her to wheel herself out the front door and down into the yard, which she couldn’t do on her own before. The dwarves even paved a walkway for her that circled the house and branched off to the stable and woods. Not that she went into the woods much; Belle regarded the fairies there as nuisances, too foolish to bother with.

Willa knew Belle liked her privacy, but she gingerly began visiting every day after school, tiptoeing through the dusty disaster zone of the kitchen and making tea, then knocking on Belle’s door. Belle’s scowl would vanish when she saw it was Willa, a fact that Willa noted and cherished. They sat together over tea, and Willa found that if she didn’t ask too many questions, Belle would start talking on her own. She didn’t talk about Grandpa or Willa’s mom, but for the first time she told stories about her early years under the sea, stories about castles on the ocean floor and bizarre creatures of the deep, about playing hide-and-seek in waving kelp beds and hitching the occasional ride on a manta ray. She often said she’d love to show Willa these things.

“I don’t swim,” Willa always replied, but Belle never seemed to hear it. She was fixated on the idea of taking Willa swimming, and Willa didn’t have the heart to tell her it could never, ever happen. The embarrassing truth was that Willa was scared of the water. Make that terrified. It was some kind of phobia, and her mom had it too.

“We both have this condition, Willa,” her mom always said. “I’ve had it all my life. If we tried to swim, we’d freeze up with a panic attack. It’s a phobia, it’s all in the mind, but the physical effects are real, and I don’t want either of us to drown! So please stay out of the water!”

When they were at Grandpa’s house on the beach, Mom didn’t even like it when Willa kicked off her sandals to dip her toes in the ocean. Willa waded a little bit, but only up to her knees. If she went any deeper, she was gripped by a panicky, tight feeling in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, and her limbs became leaden and useless. Her mom was absolutely right; there was no way she could will her arms and legs to move and swim once that feeling came upon her. It was all she could do to stumble backward out of the water and rejoin her parents on the towel in the sun. There she’d sit, staring at the sparkling water. The thought of all the creatures and fish and plants that were hidden out there beneath the shimmer creeped her out.

Belle’s whole world revolved around water, and Willa was scared to death of it.

One day, Belle told her she used to pull pranks on human ships.

“What kind of pranks?” asked Willa.

“We’d get them going in the wrong direction, sailing in circles, or sometimes send them into the rocks.”

Willa started. “You mean wreck them?”

Belle looked uncomfortable. “We didn’t wreck them, exactly, we’d just get them going toward the rocks. If the sailors couldn’t figure that out in time, well …” Belle shrugged.

“Wait, how did you ‘get’ them going the way you wanted? What do you mean?”

“Siren song,” she said simply, pouring another cup of tea.

“You sing, and—?”

“Any men who hear it do whatever we want them to do. It’s hilarious.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course! Every mermaid worth her salt can.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Belle laughed and plunked down her cup. “Okay then, miss smarty-pants. I’ll prove it.”

Willa followed Belle outdoors and around to the backyard, where they found Robert and the dwarves in the middle of a dispute over a game of horseshoes.

“It was a clear ringer. A perfect shot!” insisted Radsvidr.

“Doesn’t count if your big fat toe is over the throwing line,” countered Robert.

The dwarf stomped up to Robert, craning his neck to glare up at him.

“It wasn’t!”

Robert leaned a long, long way down until they were eyeball to eyeball.

“It … was!”

“Wasn’t!”

“Was!”

“Wasn’t!”

“Was!”

“Wasn’t!”

Horace was leaning against the house, smiling affably at Willa and Belle. “Such is the level of debate here,” he observed.

Belle smiled, then cleared her throat and began to hum. In just a few seconds the argument died away, and they stared blankly at each other.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying, my good man?” asked Robert mildly.

“I’ve lost my train of thought,” the dwarf answered, scratching his head. They looked at each other for a moment.

“Thirsty,” mumbled Belle, just loud enough for Willa to hear.

Robert blinked and smiled. “Oh well, no matter. I’m parched. How about a beverage, old sport?”

“By all means. Lead on, friend.”

Willa stared as the two strolled away.

“Told you,” said Belle simply.

“It just works on men?”

“Yes, unfortunately. You know, all mermaids can do this….” Belle gave Willa a meaningful look, but Willa was thinking about something else.

“That’s what you used on the policemen and the firefighters, isn’t it?” she exclaimed. “That night at Hanlan’s Hill!”

Belle smiled broadly. “No comment.”

Willa nodded, impressed. “Wow. That must come in handy.”

Belle sighed, glancing back at the house. “I’m not supposed to use it at all — Miss Trang’s rules. It’s for the best, I suppose. Siren song usually causes more trouble than it’s worth.”

“How?”

Belle had her hands on the chair’s wheels and was turning back to the house. She paused for a moment before answering.

“People stop trusting you when they think you can control them.”

Belle rolled slowly along the walk, and Willa watched her go. People like Grandpa, I bet, she thought.