Chapter 3: Echoes

The swing on the front porch creaked softly beneath Cecilia’s weight as she swung her legs to move it. Out in the yard, she could see the souls of the fae as they woke to greet the sun that rose over the top of the house. In the middle of the hedgemaze, a particularly grumpy gnome grumbled as he collected dew from a cluster of flowers to make his morning tea.

Cecilia didn’t see all these things in the visible spectrum. For the most part, she only saw the souls of the living in a void of white light. However, she did see the vague outlines of objects as if they had been drawn on a blank canvas in faint pencil lines. She often wondered about the little details she couldn’t see, like the veins on a leaf or the color red. Her brother had explained that red was similar to the color a soul possessed while angry, but these were things she wanted to see for herself.

She twirled her hair around one finger. It was a nervous habit she had picked up in the last year, courtesy of the tiny piece of Mike’s soul that had blossomed deep inside her being. The banshee was changing, albeit at a slow rate. She had dreams now, filled with bright colors she imagined filled the mortal realm. The banshee also got bored on occasion, which was such a novel experience that it chased itself away.

If she was lucky, maybe she could see the world as Mike did. He had gained the ability to see the things she could see, so her fingers were crossed that something similar would happen to her.

The door of the home clicked open and Death walked outside. She saw him exactly as the mortals did, a hooded figure with a skeletal frame. He waved an unknown item in her direction and moved to sit by her on the swing.

“I have brought you today’s Wordle,” he said, holding the unseen object between his fingers. “And we have run afoul of a word that does not contain any of the letters in my name.”

Cecilia smiled at Death, then tilted her head toward his hands. “You should try the other vowels, then,” she said. “We can figure it out if we put our heads together.”

“Hmm.” Death stared at his cellphone, the flames in his eyes burning bright enough that Cecilia could see them through his skull. “Do you know a word with IOU in it?”

Cecilia gazed across the yard, letting her mind drift. Some time ago, Death had discovered that Cecilia was experiencing bouts of boredom and had made it his mission to check in with her once a day while he was home. It was always some type of word game they could do together. They had tried crossword puzzles, but their knowledge of trivia had been abysmal.

“Pious,” she whispered. That was a word she was intimately familiar with.

“Um...” Death tapped at his screen. “Oh! The O is where it needs to be, but the other letters are bad.” The Grim Reaper tapped at his screen some more.

“You’re not cheating are you?”

“I prefer to think of it as educating myself,” muttered Death. “But indeed, you have caught me.”

“Are you in a hurry?” she asked.

“Not really. I’m ... distracted.” Death looked back at the house. “It is in regards to Mike Radley. He had a rather troublesome meeting with Santa. I can tell something is bothering him.”

Cecilia nodded, her hair floating around her as if she was underwater. She had seen the turmoil in Mike’s soul; Sofia’s as well. However, she got the feeling that the issues were separate and hadn’t had a good opportunity to ask what was going on.

“Have you tried asking if he wants to talk about it?” she said.

“Not really. I guess it’s better to say that I know what’s bothering him, but don’t know how I can help.” Death stared out across the garden. “Starting a conversation about it feels meaningless. I guess you could say I have the same problem he does. I feel helpless. It is hard to inspire hope when you have none to give.”

“It’s about Tink.” Cecilia smiled sadly. The goblin’s soul sparkled brightly, but the banshee could tell that it had become loose in her body. People often thought of dying as a process for just the body, but that wasn’t entirely true. The souls of the elderly longed to fly free and reunite with those they loved. It was the primary reason that mean, nasty people tended to outlive their contemporaries. Their souls had nothing to look forward to and clung to their angry, bitter shells as long as possible.

“Tinker Radley may pass upon giving birth. Her existence had brought me great joy, and I cannot ponder days without her.” Death set his phone down and pulled a tea cup from an inner pocket. The moment he opened his robe, Cecilia got a peek of the eternal void that existed within. It was a sight not meant for mortal eyes, and recently, it had become slightly painful for her to look at. “And if I struggle with the idea of her demise, I can only imagine the difficulties Mike Radley faces.”

“Indeed.” The banshee frowned, the joy of the morning spoiled. It wasn’t Tink’s death that troubled her, but the sadness that followed. Ever since that piece of Mike’s soul had taken root inside her, she could sometimes feel his emotions, even from a distance. She had mourned before, because it was in her nature. But to experience loss from a mortal perspective? It was an emotion she wasn’t very curious to explore in depth.

The two of them sat together, Wordle forgotten. Death was deep in contemplation. The Grim Reaper had taken Cyrus’ passing hard, and she worried that he might choose to leave on another long walk when the goblin passed into the next world.

Across the yard, the waking world ground to a halt. Centaurs who were up early to tend to the hedge maze froze mid-stride, their souls now washed out and gray. Cecilia rose from the swing, her gaze on the golden archway that had appeared inside the gazebo.

A slender figure stepped through. It was a sylph wearing a gown made of leaves with a crown of flowers. She raised her hand, palm upward, and summoned a tiny ball of divine light.

“Her Majesty wishes to speak with you.” The sylph spoke softly. If any mortal heard it, they would be infatuated and attempt to follow the fae for the rest of their lives. “Please come with me.”

Cecilia followed, floating through the golden archway. Upon entering the other side, her ethereal form took physical shape and she was forced to walk on a cobblestone bridge. It led to a small island surrounded by a lake and a pair of thrones. One was shattered, the result of the Fae Queen’s anger.

The other held the queen. Her head was tilted back, allowing her to look down her nose at Cecilia. The lake was in the center of a coliseum where hundreds of Seelie and Unseelie sat and watched, eager to see what happened next.

Cecilia bowed her head, suddenly worried. Why had the queen brought her here? When she opened her mouth to speak, the Queen raised one of her many hands to silence her.

“Your brother is on his way,” said the Queen. “I will speak to both of you once he is here.”

The banshee nodded. It was only about a minute before Sulyvahn stepped through the arch, his head clutched beneath one arm as he moved up to Cecilia’s side.

“Yer Majesty.” He bowed low. With his gaze lowered he angled his head so Cecilia could see his face. Sulyvahn arched an eyebrow, as if asking if she knew what was going on. Cecilia shook her head slightly. They were both in the dark.

“Now that you are both here, report.”

The Queen’s voice was as imperious as ever, which was a little surprising. Cecilia was under the impression that the Queen and Mike had come to some unspoken arrangement, which would likely be seen as weakness should the watching fae ever discover what that was.

“Um...” Sulyvahn stood upright and reattached his head. “I’m happy to report, yer Majesty, but wouldn’ a mind a bit o’ direction.”

“I wish to know everything,” she said. “Everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve heard, specifically in regards to the Caretaker. From both of you.”

Sulyvahn shrugged. “It be a long tale,” he said. “If’n you do mean everything.”

“We have plenty of time.” The Faerie Queen crossed her arms. “Time has been manipulated. Days here will only be a moment in the mortal realm, your absence won’t be noticed.”

“Aye.” Sulyvahn began with his current living arrangements with Beth at the cabin in Oregon. He spoke at great length about the nature of his relationship with her, along with Beth’s relationships with Bigfoot and Asterion. The Oregon property had become a refuge for Native American cryptids, and most of Beth’s time was spent managing conflicts that cropped up as a result.

Cecilia listened patiently as the hours passed. She knew that the Faerie Queen had her own spies, and there was nothing she or Suly could say that wasn’t already known. So was this a trap? Did the fae court hope to catch them in an untruth?

She studied the queen and felt a tiny itching in the back of her mind. Puzzled, Cecilia scratched the base of her neck to no avail. The itch was persistent, making her think of an insect trying to burrow into her flesh. While she was scratching, she saw Titania’s golden eyes flick in her direction. The queen studied Cecilia for a moment, then turned her full attention back to Sulyvahn.

The irritation returned, followed by a sudden popping sensation in the back of her mind. Cecilia’s eyelids drooped for a moment, and then snapped back open when she noticed that the Queen was now superimposed over herself. The phantom Queen stepped away from her physical form and looked directly at Cecilia.

“Do not react,” the Queen said, then gazed out toward the court. “I am speaking to you through the link you share with the Caretaker’s Dreamscape and do not wish for the others to hear us. I also do not know how long I can communicate in this manner.”

Cecilia snapped her focus back on the Queen’s physical body to avoid attracting attention from the others. They were already aware that she had developed some mortal traits, so would assume her attention had briefly wandered. Still, she knew that there were detractors amongst the court who questioned the Queen’s decision to allow fae creatures to live on Mike’s property. If the Queen was deceiving them on purpose, then there was a very good reason.

“The seers have witnessed portents of doom for our kind.” The Queen paced along the edge of Cecilia’s vision as if careful not to step outside it. “Many, in fact. And it would seem that they all center around the Caretaker, which means the court has many questions. Has something changed?”

The banshee wondered how she was supposed to respond.

“Think out loud,” said the Queen. “Deliberately so.”

After a few tries, Cecilia heard her own voice on the wind like a whisper. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied.

“Hmm.” The Queen’s phantom double scowled and walked closer to the banshee. “No new members of the house? No recent discoveries?”

“No.” In the background, she heard Sulyvahn regaling the court about how Beth had taught him how to fly a kite. “However, Tink’s pregnancy has become more complicated.”

“How so?” The phantom Queen was so close now that she completely obscured Cecilia’s vision of the proceedings.

Cecilia described what was happening, and then followed it up with what little she knew about the events at the North Pole. The Queen listened quietly until the banshee was done, then took a step back.

“I see,” she said. “This explains why his dreams have been so troubled of late.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Forget I said that.” With the Queen’s command, Cecilia promptly forgot whatever it was that the Queen had just said. “I suspect these portents are directly related to the fate of Tinker Radley. I am unable to directly assist him in resolving this situation and fear there is a good chance that the outcome will be unfavorable.”

“What would you have of me?”

The Queen looked at Cecilia. “I am going to officially task you and your brother with going everywhere the Caretaker goes and, if the situation demands it, to protect the fae by any means necessary.” The Queen’s eyes flashed. “Too long have the fae acted on absolutes. Mortals are frail things, and I suspect a drastic decision today will cost us in the long run.” She threw a dirty look at the court. “We are eternal beings, meant to ride on the unending winds and explore new worlds. The fae cannot accomplish this by shutting ourselves away and claiming superiority.

“But both courts fear change, a weakness most immortals share. I believe there will come a moment soon, one where the Caretaker will make a choice that will lead him down a darker path. I also suspect the court may force my hand and attempt to end his life before he can make this choice. Your task, my child, is to protect the Caretaker from your brethren. You are to remain by his side so that you may be present when faced with this difficult choice in the hopes that you can guide him along a better path. This command supersedes any other I may give you.”

“I...” Cecilia was speechless, her thoughts thrown into a tizzy.

“You don’t have to say anything. In fact, I’d prefer that you don’t. Your confusion is making a buzzing sound I quite dislike.” The Queen’s phantom moved to super-impose itself over her physical body. “You are different from the others, my child. I used to think that perhaps that made you weak, and yet...” The Queen surveyed her court. “Maybe it will lead to our own salvation.”

The phantom vanished as the Queen’s actual body turned in Cecilia’s direction. “I would now hear from you,” she said, her eyes cruel and unforgiving. Many times, Cecilia had found herself resenting the woman who stood before her. Today, however, she realized just how much a mask the Queen was forced to wear.

“Your Majesty.” Cecilia performed a small curtsy, then started talking. The others in the court leaned forward with interest and glee, so eager to hear what secrets she may spill that it likely never occurred to them that they had already missed the biggest one of all.

Hours passed, and Cecilia spoke without end. Where Sulyvahn had been pragmatic in his storytelling, Cecilia embellished her own. She didn’t just share the events that had occurred in her presence, but the emotions she had experienced as well. Several of the fae regarded her with newfound interest, but others displayed disgust. In their eyes, she was tainted.

The banshee didn’t care. She was in love, and that’s what mattered most of all.

After what felt like days, Cecilia reached the end of her narration. The Queen stood tall and turned her attention to the court.

“Well?” she asked, clearly seeking their feedback. The fae muttered amongst themselves, but nobody responded directly. The Queen still hadn’t officially told Cecilia or Sulyvahn about the seers, which the banshee knew was deliberate. Still, the fae court at least had an inkling that something was wrong, and they were hungry to see what the Queen would do with this knowledge.

“Your Majesty.” One of the unseelie stood, his teeth like daggers. “It is clear that coming events have yet to occur. Should we clip the source of the problem like a weed—”

“You know better.” The Queen kept her voice level. “How are we to be sure that your suggested action isn’t what triggers what is to come?” Even Cecilia knew that any sort of prophecy was closely guarded, because there was a chance that acting on it was likely to cause it to pass. Some of the most terrible prophecies the seers had ever seen had simply fizzled because they were ignored.

The Unseelie was unbothered. He licked his lips and glared lasciviously at Cecilia. “I also doubt this one’s recollection of events,” he said. “Though I do not sense untruths in her words, she is part mortal now, and thus unreliable in her testimony.”

“And what remedy would you seek?” The Queen moved to her throne and sat.

“We are aware that you have your spies on the Caretaker’s property.” The Unseelie gestured to Cecilia and Sulyvahn. “And these two have eyes inside his home, yet they answer only to you. I think it would only be appropriate if both the Seelie and Unseelie were allowed representatives of their own a chance to integrate with the Caretaker’s ... situation.”

“You do?” The Queen looked from one side of the court to the other. “And both sides are in agreement?”

Cecilia took a step toward her brother. She wanted so badly to take his hand in her own for comfort. The Seelie and Unseelie rarely agreed on anything. The fact that they were together in this idea was a bad sign and very indicative of the precarious situation the Queen found herself in.

“Hmm.” The Queen arched a brow. “I would remind the court that I have no direct sway or influence with the Caretaker over who he allows on his property or in his home. In fact, that was a condition for allowing the fae to reside peacefully on his property.”

“We’re aware, Your Majesty.” The unseelie’s eyes narrowed. “Clearly you are a ... neutral party.”

The Queen surveyed the court, her gaze slowly taking in the fae. Eventually, she turned her attention back to Sulyvahn and Cecilia. One hand had curled beneath her chin while the lower two tapped at the arms of her throne.

“We will discuss terms after these two leave,” she said, sneering at Cecilia. “Since this one’s integrity has been called into question, I believe it would be best.”

A susurration traveled back and forth across the court, the sound reminiscent of blades being sharpened. Cecilia looked at her brother with fear, but the dullahan stood much as a servant would, waiting for his orders.

When the Queen gave them, the words crumpled against Cecilia’s mind, unable to penetrate the orders she had already been given. Once the Queen had bound them, she gestured toward the archway, dismissing Cecilia and Sulyvahn. The two of them walked through the light together, but only Cecilia emerged from the arch.

When the arch vanished, time resumed. The souls around her flickered once more, making colors and shapes much like an open flame. The Grim Reaper looked up from his phone and grinned. “There you are,” he proclaimed. “I finally figured out the Wordle board!”

“And?” Cecilia felt like she was out of breath. Knowing that the court was actively conspiring against Mike made her feel like she was falling. Whatever the seers had seen had properly scared them. “What was the word?”

“Crown.” Death sounded pleased with himself. “I thought of it after seeing your mother’s archway. I do hope your meeting went well.”

The banshee stared at the Reaper for a moment, a plan forming in her head. The fae were powerful beings, capable of reading minds and easily manipulating mortals. With their involvement, there was no telling what sort of creature they would send, nor how that being would act upon arriving.

The Queen had tasked her with staying close to Mike. Telling him what the court was up to would likely reveal the Queen’s interference. But what if she told someone else, an entity immune to the magic of the fae?

“I say. You do seem rather bothered.” Death put his phone away. “You have my full attention.”

Cecilia didn’t dare turn to look out into the yard. With the time dilation of the fae realm, whatever discussion was had after her departure was long over, and she didn’t know who may already be present and listening.

“No bother,” she replied. “Do you think Mike would want some tea when he wakes up? I would like to bring him some.”

Death’s cellphone vanished into his robes as he stood from the swing. “Why, if he has any good sense, of course he would like some tea upon waking. It sets the tone for the day, and there are many options. Come, let me show them to you.” The Grim Reaper led the way into the home and away from any fae that might be listening.

The technicolor sand beneath his feet had become the color of ash. The oceans of Mike’s soul were so dark the water was a river of ink. As dark clouds boiled over, lightning crashed between their peaks, revealing a crack in the sky packed with watching eyes.

Mike snapped awake. He was in bed all by himself for the first time in ... he honestly couldn’t remember when. After the events of last night, he hadn’t craved companionship or even company. Other than sitting with Grace and reading her another book before bed, he barely spoke to anyone, even Naia.

When he sat up, he groaned and rubbed at his temples. The Dreamscape had been extremely unstable all night. He assumed that it was just because he was struggling with what he had learned from Santa, but the Outsiders had made an appearance off the shores of his mind. He couldn’t know if they were actually present or just a figment of his imagination. If Lily were around, he would have asked her to look into it for him.

Sighing, he slid out of bed and stood. He stretched, then closed his eyes and yawned. Upon opening his eyes, he saw Cecilia floating in the door of his bedroom holding a cup of tea.

“Good morning, mo chroí.” The banshee smiled and offered him the cup. “I thought you could use a boost this morning.”

“Oh. Um ... thanks.” He took the cup. While he didn’t put acts of kindness past the banshee, he wasn’t sure she had ever brought him something in this manner before. “Is everything okay?”

Cecilia shook her head. “Not really,” she said, her voice sad. “We can all tell that you’re hurting.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He took a sip of the tea. “Is there some kind of cream in this?” he asked.

The banshee giggled. “Death added it,” she said. “He thought it would cut the flavor. Told me: ‘you might grow hair on your tongue without it.’”

“It’s nice,” he said, then took another sip. “Though I don’t know that I’d take tongue advice from somebody who doesn’t have one. Would you like a sip?”

“Already had one. Don’t you see all the hair?” Cecilia stuck out her tongue for him.

Mike actually chuckled. “We’ll have to shave it all off later,” he said. “What time is it? Did someone get up with Grace?”

Cecilia nodded. “Yuki is still keeping a watch on her. She could tell you needed the sleep.”

“I did.” He put on his clothes and left the room. The house was eerily silent. When was the last time it had felt so empty? Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he heard a rustling sound from the office. He poked his head inside to see that Death was piling notebooks all along the edges of the table.

“Ah! Good morning, Mike Radley.” Death grinned at him. “How was your tea?”

“It’s good, thank you.” Mike stared at the books. “What are you doing?”

The Grim Reaper paused. “Preparing.”

“For what?”

“Do you trust me, Mike Radley?”

Mike nodded. “I do.”

“Then I must ask for my privacy in this matter. I have been entrusted with a sacred duty.”

“By a real person and not somebody online, right?”

Death sighed. “I have learned my lesson about speaking with strangers on the internet, Mike Radley. Rest assured that I am acting in the best interests of the house.”

“I trust you.” Mike moved to the bookcase. “I’m headed to the Library. Do you need anything while I’m there?”

“Hmm.” Death wrote something on a piece of paper and then ripped it out of the book and folded it up. “Do not read that,” he said. “If you could, give that to Miss Eulalie. She never goes outside. Please have any books on that subject brought to me in a paper bag if possible.”

Mike frowned, but took the slip. His curiosity was piqued, but there were other things on his mind and he would find out when it was time. He put his hand on the magical tome on the bookshelf that would take him to the Library, he felt Cecilia’s fingers on his shoulder as the magic took them away. He looked over his shoulder at the banshee.

“I didn’t expect you to come with me,” he said.

“I’m feeling extra adventurous today,” she replied as she faded from view. Her voice became a whisper in his ear. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Shrugging, Mike walked to the information desk. Plates of food were stacked high, and a trio of rats struggled to balance them on its surface.

“Are these for Tink?” he asked. The rats nodded. “Let me help you,” he said, picking up a couple of plates packed with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. He walked them into the goblin’s bedroom and saw Tink sitting up in bed, licking syrup off a fork.

“Husband!” Tink pumped her arms, which caused a few plates to fall off the bed and onto the floor. At the sound of broken crockery, Kisa walked out of the bathroom and groaned.

“Not again,” she muttered, then grabbed a broom and dustpan.

“Again?” Mike asked.

“She got really mad at that old tv show where they give your house a theme and then upgrade it.” Kisa rolled her eyes as she knelt to pick up an errant spoon. “The fact that the title pissed her off should have been her first red flag.”

“Tink no care,” the goblin muttered. “Husband, come. Sit! Eat!” She picked up a piece of bacon that was on her bedspread and ate it.

Mike set the plates he was carrying on a table and knelt to help Kisa. Once finished, he joined Tink in bed and looked at the television. “What are you watching now?” he asked.

The goblin gestured at the paused television. “Downton Abbey,” she said. “Historical drama.”

“Really?” Mike had no knowledge of the show, but a historical drama didn’t seem like Tink’s kind of show. Based on what was on the screen, it looked like a bunch of stuffy people sitting around and talking.

“Tink likes their house.” The goblin stared at Mike. “Husband need see Tink. Can tell something up.”

Mike’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t entirely sure how to word what had occurred to him in the late hours of a mostly sleepless night. But beating around the bush might earn him a fork in the arm.

“Based on what everyone is telling me, you’re ... a very old goblin.”

“Husband know Tink old. Not a secret.”

“Right, but ... everyone seems to be under the impression that you’re about to die of old age. Nobody really knows how old goblins live to be.”

“Ah. Tink understand.” She patted Mike’s hand. “Tink already live past outdoor goblin time. Maybe only few years left.”

“So you knew.” Mike took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. This was the thought that had robbed him of so much sleep. “That you were going to die in the near future.”

“Yep.”

“Then why...” Mike put his hand on Tink’s belly. “Why did you make this wish if you knew that you weren’t going to be around to raise our child together?”

“Ah. Tink understand problem.” The goblin smiled. “Tink best wife, big always. But Tink know husband live much longer than Tink, probably break after Tink gone.” She put her hand on top of the one he had put on her stomach. “Want make family, leave something behind for husband to love. Make special baby together.”

“Tink, I—” He didn’t even know how to process those words. She had wished for her pregnancy knowing that her time was nearly up. His emotions warred with one another as he saw the logic in Tink’s thinking, but was also terrified by the idea that he may have another child who would have to grow up without their mother.

When he looked into Tink’s eyes, all he could see was how she glowed. This decision she had made had been purely out of love and devotion for him. He wanted to be mad at her, to ask how she could have put him in this position, but that would be a waste of time. He had learned long ago that arguing with the goblin was a good way to get bit and nothing else.

Tink’s belly twanged beneath his hand, and he almost jerked it away. The little goblin hybrid gave another swift kick, causing both Mike and Tink to laugh.

“She has strong kick,” said Tink, rubbing her stomach.

“Or he.”

The goblin rolled her eyes. “Husband can say boy, but Tink know better.” She sighed and rubbed her belly. “Tink try and teach her everything. Goblin daughter big smart, just like Tink.”

“Yeah.” Mike gazed into Tink’s eyes, then took a moment to push some strands off her forehead. “Because there’s nobody better.”

“Husband finally learn.” She patted the bed. “Husband watch with me?”

He shook his head, then took his hand off her stomach. “No,” he said. “That sounds like fun, but I’m on a mission today. Need to look some stuff up in the Library.”

“Okay.” Tink patted him on the cheek. “Kitty cat keep Tink company.”

“It’s more like I’m your maid,” muttered Kisa.

“Tink could always request maid uniform.” The goblin licked her lips. “Give Tink something sexy to look at.”

Kisa shook her head. “Nope. I was told not to encourage any sexy behavior out of you. Doctor’s orders trump goblin’s orders.”

Tink blew a raspberry and threw a piece of toast at Kisa. The cat girl snatched it out of the air and took a bite. “Ew, what is this shit?”

“Marmite.” Tink cackled. “Tink think it tastes like feet.”

“And you like that?!?” Kisa gagged and threw the toast in the trash. “Ugh.”

The goblin looked at Mike. “Kitty cat too judgemental. One time, Tink watch kitty cat eating her own—”

Mike had never seen Kisa move so fast. With a graceful leap, she was on the bed, her hand firmly clamped over Tink’s mouth. The goblin giggled through Kisa’s fingers.