Nettle Blackthorn and the Three Wicked Sisters (37 page)

“Hey,”
said Bram, pointing to the Box, drawing Nettle’s attention back to
the fire. “I’d forgotten about that. What did Dad say was
inside?”

The
fearsome look Nettle gave him stopped him from asking anything
further. Nettle shut the wood-burner’s door with a bang, not
bothering to check if the mysterious Box was burning or not. She
rounded on the spriggans with such a furious expression that Jazz
gave a little start. “YOU LOT, CLEAN UP!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

All
Hallows’ Eve

Nettle kept the last few jars of Nutella within
arm
’s-reach,
and though Bram had come up with the brilliant idea to periodically
feed the spriggans small rations to keep them on task, despite it
all, the spriggans had groused and cajoled and wheedled, griped and
grumbled and whined all morning long. Unused to housework or
clearly even tidying up after themselves, it was a long laborious
undertaking cleaning up the mess they’d made in the kitchen. Aside
from Quary’s rooster gobbling down the scraps of food that’d been
flung about the room, Spix was the only one with any sort of
enthusiasm, whistling a jolly tune as he chipped dried batter from
the walls.

Over on the
kitchen bench the brothers were squabbling over a piece of toast.
“As Captain, this be mine,” Quary claimed.

“Bah,”
scoffed Roq snatching back the morsel. “It’s just another
reason to loosen yer belt-notch around yer fat belly, you
greedy one-eyed
rock-head!
”

“
Leave me eye outta this!”

The
squealing, scuffling and name calling was doing Nettle’s head in.
“Shut it!” She banged her fist against the table loudly. Quary and
Roq both froze with surprise, the scrap of toast held between them.
She glared fiercely until Quary sullenly withdrew, picking up his
cloth to scrub flour from the cupboard doors. Roq shoved the whole
piece of toast into his mouth and noisily ate while rearranging the
cutlery drawer. A rain of crumbs fell onto his vest as he
childishly stuck his tongue out at Quary, who was quietly
fuming.

Nettle
turned back to her present concern. Her father. She wasn’t sure
about worrying Bram and Jazz, but ever the planner, she felt it was
better to prepare them for the worst. Over breakfast she’d slowly
filled in Bram and Jazz with her father’s request for them to leave
the cottage if he didn’t return home on time. She’d woven a lie out
of the truth, fashioning it to suit. She hadn’t told them
everything of that night beyond the Thicket - just enough, leaving
out some of the more worrisome details, like the fact that he’d
left to rescue Aunt Thistle; simply stating their father had
entered the Wilds with old family friends, heading for Aunt
Thistles, which was only a few days walk from here. Not too far
from the truth, she rationalised.

Bram, as
usual, bombarded her with question after question. Firstly, why
would she lie about his original absence? Why would he go into the
Wilds, when he had said it wasn’t safe to? With who? Who are the
Woodstock Twins? How far away? Which direction – north,
north-easterly? Why wouldn’t Aunt Thistle come to us? What did he
take with him? Does he have the proper safety equipment if he finds
himself lost or hurt?

The more he
asked, the more worried she became.

Nettle sat at the head of the dining table, gnawing her
fingernails.
Really,
she placated herself,
there’s no need to worry, Dad’s got all day to
return.
But
she couldn’t help herself. She just had this awful feeling he’d
never return.

“
What if something terrible has happened?” Bram asked, his
bright blue eyes troubled.

“Nothing’s happened to him,” Nettle soothed. She didn’t
want Bram to fret. She was the one in charge of worrying. “Dad can
take care of himself. He’s probably waylaid,” she said in an
offhand manner. “Found something important he couldn’t drag himself
away from.”

“
Suppose,” said Bram unconvinced. “But why would he want us to
leave before he comes home?”

Nettle
picked up the salt shaker and rolled it between her hands. She
really didn’t know what to say.

Jazz looked up
a little distractedly. She was busy creating new field-hockey
game-plays in a note-book, since she couldn’t use her ipad as
something about the Wilds interfered with electronics. “Where did
he want us to go?”

“
We’re supposed to go to your parents.”

“Mum?” Jazz reeled back, astonished. “To Tent City?” She
shook her head. Her pencil dropped to the table and rolled away.
“No way.
Uh-uh,
I’m not going there.” Then drew both hands over her mouth,
her muffled voice aghast. “I can’t go to Tent City. What if someone
sees me there? One of my friends?” Her jacket’s collar poked up
around her ears as she cringed. “I’ll be humiliated if it gets
around St. Miriam’s that I’m
poor
.”

“
I don’t want to go either,” said Bram morosely, running a
fingernail against the table’s grain of wood. “I like it
here.”

“I do
too. But Dad said we had to.” She spun the salt over to Bram. It
rattled across the table and he snapped a hand down to capture it.
“Besides,” she said brightly. “There’s no need to worry just yet.
Dad’s got all day to get back home.”

“
When do we have to go?” Bram’s brow furrowed.

Nettle looked
up sheepishly. “Today.”

“
Today?” repeated Jazz loudly. “But what about Halloween? I’m
supposed to be the Queen.”

Bram
thoughtfully chewed on his bottom lip. “What is it about Halloween?
Why doesn’t Dad want us here?”

It was Egnatius who answered. He leant against the newly
polished kettle to stretch his back. “Oh
,
All Hallows’ Eve, she’s fickle and feral
and full of treachery. Yer Dad’s right - no one, not even you
Good-Folk should be out on a night as perilous at that.”

Bram and Jazz hadn’t been there, beyond the Thicket, when
her father made her promise to leave before All Hallows’ Eve. He
was
desperate
for the them to be gone.
Just one more thing to worry about,
besides Dad not returning.
She hoped Egnatius could explain why her father
was so afraid. “Why is it such a dangerous night?”

Egnatius cackled, waving his fingers. “
Oooo
girly, ‘tis the night where the veil
between this world and the spirit world is the thinnest. All sorts
of things can happen on a night like that.”

Jazz
huffed. “Nonsense. It’s about dressing up and eating candy. A whole
lot of candy,” she stated authoritatively, then sulkily, “And
wearing a diamond tiara. A really big, sparkly diamond tiara… while
eating candy.” Jazz pouted, her long auburn eyelashes framing her
lost-puppy gaze aimed at Nettle. “Can’t we stay? I’m sure Uncle
Fred wouldn’t mind, especially as we have these guys for
protection.”

The trio
looked at the spriggans sceptically. Roq was wearing a feather
duster as a headpiece and Quary had his arm stuck down the neck of
the dishwashing liquid. “Yeah, I’m not so sure Dad will agree with
that,” said Bram.

Nettle didn’t want to leave either, and certainly not
without Dad.
Still, Halloween is technically another evening
away…
“Well,
I guess we could leave tomorrow,” she put to them, shrugging a
shoulder. “Besides, I’m not even sure how we’re going to get there.
Dad’s not one to think of practicalities.”

Bram was ever
the thinker. “What about the tour buses from Olde Town? Maybe we
could hitch a ride with one of them?”

Nettle
gave him a proud look. “Good idea! I’ll ask Claudine.” She also
secretly resolved to take Bram’s advice and ask the elder sister
about that man she’d seen her kiss yesterday. There was a part of
her that hoped fervently that she’d been mistaken.

Jazz gave her cousin a
duh
look. “If I were you, I’d talk to Claudine about
us staying at hers’, instead of leaving. I’m pretty sure she’d take
us in.” She delivered a persuasive smile. Her voice slowly rose in
pitch as she then said, “Maybe provide us with an excellent excuse
as to why we didn’t leave when Uncle Fred wanted us to?”

Oh,
nodded Nettle, liking her cousin’s thinking,
that’s a way better
idea.
Behind
her, the spriggans had erupted into a heated row. She caught the
word, “
treasure
” and “
goblin
” and “
block-head
.”

Nettle spun
around and snatched Quary and Sandee by the ear and let them dangle
before her, screeching and squawking. “What are you yapping about?
What goblin? And what’s this treasure?”

Quary clamped
his mouth shut tightly. Green dishwashing liquid dripped from his
arm.

“`Ere,
let me down and I’ll tell you,” yowled Sandee, to which Quary gave
a loud squawk. Sandee fixed him with a baleful glare. “Oh go stick
a pipe in it!”

Nettle
lowered both spriggans to the kitchen table, but didn’t let go of
their ears. Quary wore a mean expression. He crossed his arms
defiantly, his bottom lip poking out in a petulant
manner.

“It’s a goblin mound,” Sandee informed her, glaring daggers
at Quary. “And this
block-head
wants us to go steal its treasure.”

“
What? A goblin mound?” Nettle and Bram traded a curious
glance. She let go of their ears and Sandee rubbed hers between
finger and thumb.

“
What’s that?” Jazz asked.

Quary answered
reluctantly, “That hill. Yer Olde Town you keep visiting. Its built
on a goblin mound.”

Jazz’s nose
crinkled. “What on earth is that?”

Quary sniffed.
“Silly girl, everyone knows its where goblins keep their
treasure.”

Sandee rounded
on the captain and poked him in the shoulder with a stubby finger.
“Well I aint digging for it,” she declared. “It’s a fool’s errand
that one.”

“
Well I’m in charge of this brigade, and I say we dig!” Quary
shouted back, his hat dislodging to sit a little
lopsided.

Roq ambled
over, the grey feathered duster shivering with his movement. “I’m
sorely tempted,” Roq quietly mused. “If Goblins weren’t so devious
and cruel. Looks like whatever it harbours is a biggun too.”

Egnatius huffed loudly. “How many times do I have to tell
you, you
blundering gooseberry
, we can’t even get near it.”

Quary
scowled at the elderly spriggan. He hooked a thumb at Jazz.
“There’s surely a way, if this bothersome girl can get
inside-”

“
We can’t! And you know it!” Egnatius interjected, his cheeks
blustering. He pointed a knobbly finger at the captain and glared,
daring him to argue. When he didn’t the elderly spriggan spoke to
Nettle who’s mouth had just begun to part. “Goblin Mounds got
powerful spells spun round it. They don’t like the likes of us, and
make sure we can’t get in. This one got more than most.”

“
You can’t enter, at all?” Nettle asked instead.

Spix, with a
pair of yellow sponges tied to his feet was sliding about the
dining table cleaning it. “We’ve tried. No luck.”

“
Can’t even get close enough to see what’s going on there,”
Sandee explained, her back half-turned on Quary.

Nettle chewed on her thumb nail. She gave her brother a
look, one side of her mouth turning up into a lopsided grin, and he
knew instantly what she was thinking -
Olde Town was built on a goblin
mound... well, well, well.

It was
agreed that Bram would wait with the spriggans at the cottage for
their father to return. She thought Bram might protest at having to
stay behind but he saw reason that Dad would completely freak out
if he returned to the cottage and no one was home, and Bram was
also keen to continue his tutelage in thievery. Egnatius had
promised to teach him the art of picking a lock.

Nettle and Jazz made their way by bike to Olde Town. As
they rode up to the cul-de-sac, a tour bus rumbled toward them,
stirring up dust and spitting small pebbles from beneath its tyres,
leaving only one bus left sitting at the bottom of the hill. There
were no new group of visitors, and no sign of Mr. Fussbinder who
always seemed to be overseeing the to-ing and fro-ing of their
guests. Nettle propped her bike up against a juniper tree and stood
for a moment, eyeing the hill with renewed interest.
A goblin
mound…
. It
didn’t look any different from before. She didn’t really know what
she was expecting now that she knew, maybe a big sign that said –
GOBLINS WELCOME, BOTHERSOME FAERIES NOT. There were no faerie that
she was aware of in Olde Town and now she knew the reason why -
spells kept them from entering.
But if Olde Town was built on a Goblin
Mound,
she
pondered,
did that mean goblins were prowling about the
village?

Jazz
, for some reason, looked unenthusiastic at being back at
Olde Town. She heaved a bored sigh and walked in a rather subdued
air towards the steps.

“
You don’t want to be here?” Nettle asked, a little
surprised.