Eldritch Manor (9 page)

They gathered around the thing, wrinkling their noses against the stench of the brackish water. Flies buzzed around them and the air was strangely still. To her surprise, nobody else knew anything about it, or had any guess as to what it could be. They gathered around while Tengu and Horace cut back the foliage. Even so, it was hard to make out any details. The thing had creases that contained slimy green water, and folds craggy with moss, but most of its bulk was smooth and grey. Horace pointed out what looked to be a long neck folded alongside the body, and to where the head probably was, tucked out of sight. They tentatively ran their hands over the “skin.” It was smoother than stone, almost leathery. Was it a kind of huge snake? A lizard? A smooth-skinned crocodile? Whatever it was, it had taken refuge in the water of the pool, and it had been there a long, long time.

“So it came here before any of you did. How long have you all been here?” asked Willa. They pondered this question, brows furrowed.

Horace waved vaguely. “It's rather hard to say. I'm never sure about how fast time is passing here....”

Willa was confused. “Well who's been here the longest?”

Belle shook her head. “Not me. I arrived last. I'm ...” and here she started to cackle, “... the baby of the group.”

Horace spoke again, looking pained. “I can't remember for sure, but I might have been the first, although I remember Miss Trang from those days.”

Willa was getting impatient. “What days? How long ago?”

Horace shrugged. “It could be decades. Or centuries. Or millennia. I'm sorry, but they all feel the same to me.” He gestured to the house. “Places like this ... Where we come from time moves differently. When we retired the only way we could live in your ... time ... was to come to a safehouse with a special time-regulating dispensation....”

Willa gave up trying to understand. Horace was being strangely unhelpful, going on and not making sense when they had this ... this
thing
in front of them. This monstrous
thing
.

“So what is it? Is it dangerous? Should we get it out of there?” Willa asked. No one had an answer.

A sudden loud screech echoed around the yard, making them jump. It was Fadiyah, up above them in her cage. Willa had put the bird out on a third floor balcony so she could get some air. She'd never heard Fadi make a sound like this before. Everyone stared up as Fadi screamed, each squawk increasing in pitch, volume, and intensity until they had to turn away and hold their ears. Willa thanked her lucky stars that the Hacketts weren't home. They would not like this racket one bit.

It felt like the sound was drilling right into Willa's brain. She pressed her palms hard into her ears and dropped to her knees. When she thought she couldn't take another moment, the earth rumbled and the bird went quiet. The shape in the pool writhed. Willa stumbled back, grabbing at Belle's wheelchair and yanking her back too.

The grey beast shifted from side to side, the concrete of the pool popping and cracking, then it slowly lifted its long neck, raising its head from the muck. It had a lizard-like face, a wide mouth and huge, moist eyes with long lashes. Its grey skin lay in folds like an elephant's, but it certainly wasn't an elephant. Willa felt a wild, insane excitement, and actually laughed out loud. Just when she thought this place couldn't get any weirder, there turned out to be a dinosaur in the swimming pool.

Wearier and wearier, Willa solves a mystery

A
s
they stared at it in shock, the dinosaur swung its drooping head back and forth, taking in the entire scene with sleepy eyes. It didn't seem dangerous. Willa devoutly hoped it was a herbivore. Then the beast spotted the bird up on the balcony and slowly lifted its head, coughing wheezily. When it finally reached the third floor, the dinosaur squinted briefly at the bird. Then its eyes rolled back in its head and it flopped to the ground with a terrific crash.

Willa stared in shock. Had the only dinosaur alive in the whole world just died in front of her? They approached cautiously. Horace gingerly put a hand on its neck and announced it still had a pulse. He guessed it had simply fainted.

Willa's next big problem was how to keep a full-sized dinosaur out of sight of the neighbours. The bushes provided only partial cover, so Willa dashed to the hardware store for enormous blue tarps and several long poles. Tengu helped her fashion a large tent over the pool, and they worked quickly in the heat and humidity while Horace sat and watched.

The dinosaur came to as they worked and watched them calmly. Its long lashes convinced Willa it was a she, and she began calling her Dinah. Willa was concerned about Dinah's health, since she didn't seem to be able to climb out of the pool. Horace speculated she'd been immobile in the pool for a good long while and this had probably caused her legs to weaken. Willa asked how she could have got there, and where was she before, and how old was she anyway? At this Horace got all vague again, talking about different kinds of time and something called a time talisman, and “rips in the fabric of time,” until Willa simply gave up asking questions.

However Dinah had gotten in the pool, she'd been there a while, and Horace maintained that her legs may have become “vestigial,” or permanently useless. Willa hoped not. She hoped beyond hope that she could see Dinah walking around like she would have done millions of years ago. But they'd have to work up to that and allow her to regain her strength. She did not look at all well at the moment, sniffling and wheezing, but hopefully time and rest would put her right.

Luckily they got the tent up before the Hacketts returned home late that afternoon. It blocked the entire pool area from their view, though it wasn't tall enough to cover Dinah if she was ever able to stand up. Predictably, Mr. Hackett appeared on his back step, squinting over at the tent and shaking his head in irritation. And Mrs. Hackett squawked out the kitchen window that the thing was a “terrible eyesore,” but Willa knew there was nothing much they could do about it.

That evening Willa sat at the dining room table, surrounded by library books about dinosaurs. Curiosity drew the others to the table.

Robert peered over Willa's shoulder. “What is she, exactly?”

“I think she's a Diplodocus,” Willa announced. Dinah wasn't exactly like the pictures in the book, not as big for one thing, but it was the closest match she could find. “She's a plant eater.”

“Well, that's a relief,” muttered Belle, squinting at the page. “She's got the same tiny head as the picture. Not much room for a brain in there.”

“All the dinosaurs had small brains. Dinah's neck is so long that if her head was any bigger, she wouldn't be able to lift it at all,” answered Willa. “As it is she can really only hold her neck horizontally. She can't lift it up vertically.”

“Why not?” asked Tengu.

“Her heart isn't big enough to pump blood all the way up to her head if she did. That's probably why she fainted when she did try to lift her head up.” She turned back to the book and read on. “Some scientists think that to lift their heads up high dinosaurs like these would have to have a second heart in their neck to do the job....”

“That is the silliest thing I ever heard. No wonder the poor bastards died out,” grumbled Robert.

“Not all of them did,” grinned Willa.

The dinosaur lifted everyone's mood for a few days. Forgetting their exhaustion and cloudy sleep, the old folks chatted endlessly about the beast. They speculated on her history and how she had survived for so long. Horace said she must have stayed alive by drinking the green muck growing in the rainwater which collected in the low area around the pool. But since her food intake was so reduced, she had slipped into a kind of hibernation. A long,
long
hibernation.

As the next few days slipped by, Dinah showed no signs of wanting to climb out of the pool, preferring to sleep away her days. The novelty of their new pet abated and everyone fell back into a tired funk. Willa was left with the chore of piling up as much greenery — garden clippings, leaves, kitchen food waste — as she could find for Dinah. The dinosaur's appetite was on the rise since waking. Willa had to spend a couple of hours every day pruning the huge garden and tossing the clippings into a heap. Then she'd give Dinah's back a scratch with the garden rake. Dinah would slowly lift her head, snuffling and blinking her long-lashed cow-eyes. She'd nod a few times as she looked around, slowly zeroing in on Willa and the pile of branches, then she'd move in and gulp it all down in a few seconds.

The rest of the time she grazed on whatever she could reach, stripping leaves and bark from branches with alarming efficiency. Willa worried about her devouring all the greenery which kept her shielded from prying Hackett eyes. She also worried about Dinah's long neck. She hoped the books were right about her not being able to lift her head, because that meant she wouldn't be able to peek over the fence ... Willa didn't even want to think about the hysteria that would certainly follow
that!
As it was she could see that keeping Dinah much longer in their backyard was impossible.

“What'll we do with her?” she asked the others, but they were slipping back into sleepy apathy. A shrug from Baz, silence from Horace, a derisive snort from Robert. Only Belle came up with a remotely useful idea.

“She's from the water, isn't she? Throw her in the ocean. Let her fend for herself.”

“Fine,” countered Willa. “But how do we get a sixty-foot dinosaur from our backyard to the seashore without anyone seeing?”

Nobody had an answer for that one. Nobody had much of an answer for anything anymore. Exhaustion levels were rising higher and higher. Horace fell asleep face down in his books. Belle stared into space, her eyes glazed over. Baz didn't cook at all anymore but slept for most of the day, curled up on the carpet in the parlour. Willa had to do everything herself now, making sandwiches and tea for them all, piling up brush for the dinosaur, and cleaning up after everyone. They were constantly spilling things, dropping things, and breaking things by dozing off at inopportune moments. Willa did her best to keep up with the work, when all she wanted to do was go to sleep herself.

One afternoon, a few days after the discovery of Dinah, Willa took a break from her chores to collapse into an armchair in the parlour. She rubbed her eyes and stared dully at the doll's house. She could hear Mab humming cheerfully in there, clicking away with her knitting needles. Mab alone seemed immune to the weariness of the household. She kept to herself but buzzed around with her usual energy. Willa's head hurt as she puzzled over this. Why wasn't Mab tired? The rest of them hadn't slept properly since ... since the dinner party with her parents. When she'd accidentally left Mab locked in the dollhouse. Mab was still not talking to her, still mad about that.

Willa sat up. Her brain cleared a bit and things started falling into place. She rose and opened the dollhouse. Mab scowled at her from the sofa, where she was knitting her silvery scarf.

“Mab, I need to ask you something.” Mab squinted her eyes into slits, but Willa went on. “None of us are getting any rest when we sleep. I'm not sure why. We sleep and sleep but we're still tired.”

Mab rolled her eyes in irritation. “It's not the sleep, it's the dreams!” she snapped.

Willa thought this over. “We're sleeping but we're not dreaming. And that's why we're so tired?”

Mab gave her a look. Willa pressed on. “You are the only one in this house who isn't tired. You're the only one who's still dreaming, aren't you?”

Mab let out a noncommittal squeak and turned away, clickety-clacking with her knitting needles.

Willa spoke sharply. “Mab!”

The fairy turned back, looking like a child who's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Willa softened her tone.

“Mab, please. Do you know why we're not dreaming?” Mab dropped her eyes and nodded. “Are you the one who's causing it?” Another nod. “What are you doing? Can you undo it?” A shrug and Mab turned away again. Willa waited a moment, then quietly closed the dollhouse again. She felt a wave of relief. At least their weariness wasn't the result of sinister forces. Just a peeved fairy.

Later that evening Willa gathered everyone in the parlour. She knelt by the dollhouse. “Oh Maa-aab,” she called softly. “May we come in?”

The clicking needles stopped. Willa waited a moment and opened the dollhouse. Mab looked surprised to see everyone.

“Mab, I'm so sorry I left you locked up after the dinner party. I promise I won't ever do it again.” Willa held out the dollhouse's tiny key and set it gently on the bed.

Horace cleared his throat gently. “We're all sorry, Mab. We're sorry we don't treat you with the respect you deserve.” Mab looked expectantly at the others, who begrudgingly nodded ... even Belle. Baz produced a small tray filled with tiny cakes and real, Mab-sized teacups and saucers.

“Sorry, dearie,” Baz smiled as she set the tray carefully inside the dollhouse.

Mab picked up a teacup, turning it over in her hands. Willa had noticed that Mab drank from thimbles, so she had scoured the stores for a teeny tea service. Mab appreciated it, she could tell, for the little fairy hugged the cup to her chest, sniffling a little and not looking up.

“Can you forgive us? Can you forgive
me?
” Willa pleaded.

Mab wiped her nose with the back of her hand and looked up at them all, her eyes glistening. She nodded quickly.

That night Willa slept. She really slept, and dreamed. The dreams fell from her mind as she opened her eyes to the early morning light, but she felt light and happy. The heavy curtain of exhaustion had lifted. She practically bounced out of bed.

In the dining room Willa saw a rare and welcome sight. Robert and Belle were chatting amiably over toast and jam. Tengu stopped shovelling down scrambled eggs to wave cheerfully, and Horace nodded and grinned. Baz bustled in from the kitchen, dumping fresh-baked scones into a basket. Tengu grabbed three and began juggling them. The mood was one of barely-contained giddiness. Willa took a seat.

“I trust you slept well?” inquired Horace.

Willa nodded. “And I dreamed, too.”

“So did I.” Horace nodded thoughtfully. “I dreamt
I was looking out the window at something ... a horse, I think.”

Something shifted in Willa's memory and she felt suddenly chilled. Her own dream was reassembling itself in her mind. A black night, a white moon, a pounding sound, a dark shape in the streetlight.

“A black horse,” she whispered. Silence fell over the table. She looked around. The smiles had faded.

“A black horse!”

“Yes! Me too!”

“Now I remember!”

“With red eyes!”

Baz sank into a chair, looking worried. “How could we all have the same dream?”

Willa looked around at them all. “That black horse is the same one I saw before Miss Trang left. A black horse with red eyes that ran down the street on two legs.” Her hands were cold and trembled in her lap at the memory.

“Indeed,” murmured Horace. “And now he's shown up in our dreams. He's been looking for us.”

Belle finished his thought, speaking in a low, hoarse voice. “And now he's found us.”

Horace nodded. Willa's heart sank.