In the House of the Fae

Chapter Four: A Startling Encounter

“Mom…” I said, taking a deep breath. “Something’s happened.”

I hesitated for just a moment more, then launched into my story before I could lose my nerve.

When I was through, I watched my mother apprehensively, but she didn’t look panicked or bewildered, the way I had anticipated. Instead Erika’s face looked resigned, as though she had finally heard some bad news she’d been expecting for a long time.

“You don’t look surprised,” I said.

She sighed. “I’m not, really. Sweetie, there’s something that I have to tell you now that I hoped you would never have to know about.” She pushed a hand through her light brown hair. “Do you remember that last month in Iowa, before we moved here to Rockledge Island?”

“Vaguely…I remember the house; there was a big backyard. And I remember that you always looked worried.” Thinking back now, I realized that my mother had been more than worried; she’d had the cornered, fearful look of a hunted animal. The same look that I probably now wore.

Erika smiled ruefully. “I can’t believe you remember that. But it’s true; I was worried almost constantly then.” She sighed. “It started when you were about two years old. We were living in Florida then, near my mother. One day, I took you to the grocery store and you lost your temper, like toddlers do. You knocked down an entire shelf of cans--from twenty feet away. I rushed you out of the store as quickly as I could, but the damage was already done.

“After that, the strange visits began. It was innocent enough at first; men with flat tires, needing to use the phone, or collecting for a charity. But you would always start to scream and cry as soon as I opened the door, holding your head in your little hands. I never did figure out what that was about.”

“The humming,” I said slowly. It must have been going on even then; I’d had no idea until now.

“What humming?” Erika said in confusion.

“Nothing, I’ll tell you about it later. Go on.”

She looked mystified, but continued. “Things gradually got worse, until one day the house was broken into. We were out at the time, thankfully, but I wasn’t willing to sit around and wait for it to happen again. I packed a few essentials, took you, and ran.

“Your grandmother helped me sell the house, and I used the money to pay the rent on an apartment in Mobile. I thought we were safe, but they found us there too. And in Virginia and Louisiana and finally in Iowa as well. I thought it would never end…until I bought a house in Rockledge Island, the most distant place I could possibly find.”

“I cancelled all my credit cards, burned all my papers, and made sure we left in the middle of the night. I checked us into a hotel in Massachusetts under different names and traded in my minivan for a little black four-door in Boston, also under a fake name.

“Even once we got here, I kept everything packed up for two weeks, waiting for a sign we should run again. But it never came—well, until now.”

“Mom, why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“I thought it was all over and there was no need to frighten you. I just didn’t want you to spend the rest of your life glancing over your shoulder. But what was it you were saying about a humming? I don’t understand.”

“Right before an episode, I always seem to get this humming sound in my head, like a swarm of bees or something. I must have had it even when I was a baby; that would explain why I always held my head.”

There was silence for a moment. “What happens now?” I said, panic tingeing my voice.

“We’ll have to find a new place as soon as possible,” my mother answered. “Maybe New Mexico; it’s a big state with lots of desert. In the meantime, we’ll keep the doors locked at all times and--”

“Wait, wait, Mom, slow down,” I exclaimed, holding up my hands. “I don’t want you to have to move again. You have the house here, you have friends, you have your painting; I don’t want you to have to give all that up again. If anybody’s moving out, it’s going to be me.”

“Honey, you don’t have to; we can figure something else out”

“Mom, can we talk about this later?” I said tiredly. “I just want to get a hot shower; I’m still pretty shaken up.”

“Of course, sweetie. But before you go up, could you move the car into the garage? I’ll feel better knowing it’s in there.”

“Sure, Mom,” I said, grabbing the keys from the counter and heading out the door to the garage.

I stepped onto the cement floor gingerly; on more than one occasion I’d been greeted by a field mouse making a mad dash for cover. Pushing open the heavy garage door, I was temporarily blinded by the bright noon sun. When my vision cleared, I stepped outside warily, half-expecting to be ambushed. All was quiet, however.

Climbing into the car, I decided to back it in, in case there was need of a hasty escape. Carefully guiding the vehicle into our tiny garage required my full concentration; concentration that kept straying back to the episode from earlier. I managed to get the car parked safely in its spot, however, and jumped out to pull down the garage door.

I stood on tiptoe to grab the handle, straining to reach. As I did, I saw from the corner of my eye a dark figure watching me from the shadow of the woods. The bottom dropped out of my stomach and with a gasp I whirled around, scanning the trees quickly.

There was nothing there.

Pressing one hand to my chest, I waited for my breathing to slow. I’m beginning to get paranoid, I thought; seeing things that aren’t there. Nevertheless, I locked the door firmly behind me.

Once I was under the soothingly warm water of the shower, I tried to clear my head enough to think rationally. I had to come up with a solid, cohesive plan because regardless of what my mother said, I was leaving. I couldn’t keep uprooting her and if I stayed, she would be at risk as well.

The first and most obvious step would be to get on a plane to another state. It didn’t matter very much which one, so long as it was far away. There was a small regionalairport in Redland, but getting there would be difficult. I couldn’t take the car, as it was my mother’s only mode of transportation, and walking would take far too long. I could always ask Joanna to drive me down, but it would inevitably lead to questions I couldn’t answer.

Frustrated, I turned off the water and wrung out my waist-length red hair. I’ll just have to tell Joanna that the car has a flat tire or something, I thought, toweling myself dry. And I’ll have her drop me a block or two away from the airport, and then just walk.

Satisfied with the beginnings of my plan, I wrapped a thick towel around myself and stepped out of the shower, pushing aside the curtain—and came face to face with a young man standing on the other side.