The Wrath of Oberon

2

2

His feet almost tore the stair carpet. Chest heaving, he scampered across the landing and blasted open the door to his sisters’ bedroom. Originally, they had slept alongside Charlie but were moved into another room soon after Toby arrived. They were getting older now and wanted their own space. Violet, in particular, insisted.

Toby skidded into the room, tears brimming in his eyes, and was greeted by two beds – a familiar sight. The room was decorated in pink and topped with frills, music boxes, and dolls that he had always thought were too girly for his sisters, despite the decoration being their choice. Now he saw it for the frosted disguise it was; a mask to hide a monster.

One of the beds was empty. The covers were drawn back messily unlike Belle’s, whose lump of bedsheets rose and fell gently in the low light.

‘Violet?’ Toby asked, hoping he was wrong. ‘Violet, are you here?’ A tear formed in the corner of his eye as he felt the bed. It was cold. She must have been missing for some time.

Still sedated by what was left of Nicko’s magic, Belle didn’t stir, not even when Nicko entered the room.

‘I’m sorry, my boy. I really am.’

‘You did this!’ Toby’s anguish was now a snarl. ‘She’s been taken. Probably killed. That’s how they got your Time Globe, isn’t it? You did this!’

Nicko wrapped his arms around him. Toby tried to swat the old man away but stopped fighting when his protests collapsed into sobs that left him breathing in the musty scent of the old man’s coat.

‘I should have been here!’ Toby cried. ‘I should have protected her!’

‘Toby,’ Nicko whispered, ‘there was no one to protect. I know what happened. It was her: Gryla. A servant of Oberon. She’s a changeling. Your sister Violet never existed. She’s been planted in your family for years.’

‘But…’

Toby’s head raced. The shock was too much. Too all-consuming to allow an explanation to form. The lie ran deep, stitched into the fabric of his family. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Nicko stayed with Toby, waiting in silence while the young boy let out his grief. Only when Toby’s sobs slowed did he speak.

‘You do know your family is still in danger, don’t you?’

‘Uh hu.’

‘I don’t like doing this, but I have to lift the fog the elves put on their minds. I have to tell them the truth. Tonight. It’s the only way to keep them safe.’

Toby thought of the pain. The self-loathing in realising he loved someone who was just an outfit worn by a monster. And then he thought of those same emotions tearing through his family. It would hurt his parents tenfold.

‘But it’ll destroy them.’

‘It can’t wait.’

Toby snorted back a trail of snot.

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘This has to be done now. They’ll never forgive me but they have to know.’

Nicko nodded. ‘I’ll wait while you rouse them.’ John and Mary came to with a mixture of bewilderment and concern. Nicko was right to wait downstairs. Opening their eyes to a large, bearded man at the foot of their bed would only cause panic.

Mary was up and dressed in seconds, having tied her hair into a bun and thrown on a simple moss-green dress. Her every movement prickled with anxiety as she demanded to know why the ringmaster was visiting at such an hour. John was still fastening his waistcoat – buttons fed through the wrong holes – as he entered the dining room. There, they waited.

When Mary realised one of her twin girls was missing, she turned frantic, so much so that Toby had to reassure her with lies. He hated himself for it. Regardless, she sat, drumming her nails on the dining table while John woke Belle and Charlie. The grandfather clock struck four as they sat together, yawning.

Nicko didn’t make them wait. If they didn’t already have suppressed memories of magic, the explanation might have taken hours. Fortunately, Nicko knew just how to break down their mental barriers to make them remember.

‘Last Christmas…’ he began.

Toby watched with sadness as Nicko told his story and the idea of the lost child arrived on his parents’ faces. The disbelief. The demands that, surely, this was a joke. The anger directed at Nicko. The confusion as they realised the old man wasn’t holding back a laugh.

Mary was the first to break, her eyes turning oily with tears. Of course, this only angered her husband.

‘There’s no such thing as magic!’ He slammed his hands on the table. ‘What have you done with my daughter?’

‘I assure you, sir,’ Nicko sighed. ‘Magic is real.’ Sitting back in his chair, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of brown paper. Placing it on the table, he folded it along memorised lines.

‘What the devil are you doing, man?’

‘Showing you proof.’

John looked at Toby, exasperated. Toby pleaded with his eyes: Just watch, Father.

Nicko continued to fold, tear and tuck, completely lost in his craft. When his creation looked semi-complete, pressed against the table, he spread his palms over it and his fingertips glowed, briefly causing dust in the air to twinkle gold. Then the origami moved, and strips of paper unfurled to form antlers. A tiny beast, no taller than a sparrow, shakily climbed onto four paper legs.

A reindeer.

Toby’s breath caught in his throat. His gaze slid to his parents whose faces skipped through a catalogue of emotions. It was almost possible to see their minds turning forgotten pages.

‘It can’t be,’ said Mary, mouth slack. The deer trotted across the tabletop. ‘It’s not possible.’

‘It is.’ Nicko clicked his fingers and the reindeer’s footsteps became lighter. Then it bounded into the air and circled overhead. ‘Is this bringing back any memories?’

‘Newgate Gaol.’ John pulled the words from his subconscious. His breathing was heavy. ‘You were saved… by children on flying reindeer.’

‘Not children,’ said Nicko. ‘Those were elves. Other than that, what you’re remembering is true.’

And so Nicko revealed the truth about their missing daughter. He explained the events of the past few days. His kidnapping. The changelings. Finally, the assumed release of Oberon.

When he was done, Mary spoke.

‘No! I still don’t believe you. Not Violet.’ Her sweet, tender face was white.

‘I’m afraid it’s the truth, madam.’

John shot up out of his chair so quickly it tumbled and clattered on the floor. Beside him, his children sat dumbfounded. Belle began to wail as her father jutted a finger at Nicko.

‘Lies! You think a bit of smoke and mirrors proves anything? What the hell have you done with her? Where’s Violet? Tell me!’

‘I assure you, Mr Thornton, shouting will do no good.’

Balling his fists, John puffed out his chest. ‘I’d watch your mouth, old man. Nobody gets between me and my daughter, especially not some… charlatan!’

Nicko sighed, his eyes downcast. ‘I wish it were a lie, but it’s not. Deep down, you know that too.’

John forced his tongue into his cheek, a tell-tale sign that his patience had worn thin. At first, it seemed he might spring for Nicko. Then he faltered and glanced at Toby for confirmation.

‘I’m sorry,’ Toby said. ‘I wish it wasn’t true.’ That’s when Mary broke. Whimpering, she caught John’s attention and he sat back down, allowing her to bury her face in his shoulder.

‘What’s vitally important is what we do next,’ said Nicko eventually.

‘I say we go to Scotland Yard,’ John thundered. ‘They’ll tear this league of criminals to shreds.’

‘I’m afraid that won’t do any good. Even if you could convince the authorities that these creatures existed, what could they do?’

‘Maintain order! I don’t know what the police are like in your country, old chap, but in this one they mean something.’

‘This isn’t an issue of borders or public order,’ Nicko said. ‘We’re talking about a tyrant with untold power. I suggest you leave your home for now. Do you have distant family you can stay with?’

‘We’ve come from a low place in society,’ said Toby’s mother. ‘It was necessary for us to cut ties with our old life for our own safety when Toby was still a baby. So, we don’t, Mr…?’

‘It’s Nicko.’

‘Mr Nicko?’

‘Just Nicko, I predate surnames.’

‘Ah.’

‘If that’s not an option,’ John said, ‘what else can we do?’

‘Friends, perhaps? You need to pack your things and leave.’ Nicko flicked open the gold lid of his seidhrometer and added, ‘Quickly, I might add. These monsters are known killers.’

‘Right. I know an associate who will have us.’ John glanced at his wife. ‘You remember Craig?’ She nodded. ‘Children, pack your bags. Take only what you need, understand? Belle, no music boxes. Charlie, no books. We leave in twenty minutes.’

Lost for words, Toby followed his siblings upstairs to pack. In his room, a pair of worn boots and a dense coat waited next to his bed, still damp from his last adventure with Violet.

Violet.

She seemed so fresh in his mind. So real, as though at any moment she would call him from another room, asking him to play, or whining because he had moved one of her toys. Did everyone feel like this?

What made it worse was that Violet wasn’t dead – she had never lived. His sister was a trick, light bent around Gryla’s beastly flesh to hide the joins in her costume. He wasn’t sure he could ever accept that or look at his family the same way again. How could he trust anyone after this?

‘I’m sure she loved you at some point.’ Nicko stood respectfully at the door and Toby realised he had been sitting on his bed, boots on, staring at his coat for some time.

Toby shook his head. ‘I’m not sure that’s true.’

‘It is. It’s impossible not to when you live with someone for years.’

‘Violet didn’t exist. You said it yourself; she’s a monster. This Gryla must be one of the worst.’

‘Oh, she is – awful. But I’m sure she wasn’t always that way. I believe everyone’s born good, my boy. It’s life that shapes them. Gryla’s a giantess with thirteen children – the Yule Lads. She loves them. One day, she just overstepped a line. I don’t know why or how but, no doubt, she would have had a good reason at the time.

‘The problem is, when some folk overstep a line, they forget it was ever there and draw a new one. Before they know it, they’ve stepped over so many they become too afraid to look back and see how far they’ve drifted. Gryla is a monster, but she’s also a mother and she was a sister to you – for years. At times, she probably forgot her old life entirely, if only for a moment. Loving her is OK, Toby. In a way, she really did die. Just make sure, if you ever meet her, you don’t see her as anything but the monster. She might live her life under fake skin but you can’t let her get under yours.’

Hearing this, Toby waited, staring at the fur lining of Nicko’s coat. ‘I’ll do what I need to do, I promise.’

‘Good. Now get that coat on. The last thing your parents want is to lose you too.’

Nicko stood. A moment later, the sound of shattering glass exploded in another room and a scream pierced the air.