Selfish Elf Wish (21 page)

“Grove!” I throw my arms around his neck. “Thank thunder. We’ve got to get Briar out of here.”

Kenji steps around from behind Grove and throws himself at Briar, who’s still limp in Timber’s arms. “Is she okay?” he wails.

“Did you drive?” I ask Grove. “Where’s the car?”

“This way,” he says, and we head for the van that’s across the street.

WE SCRAMBLE INTO
the van, pushing Briar’s half-limp body into the back and looking over our shoulders as fire trucks and police cars converge at the club. I buckle into the front seat and Timber slams the side door closed just as Clay and Dawn pop out from the alley way beside the building. Luckily the chaos of all the kids on the sidewalks and firemen yelling into bullhorns stops them in their tracks, but I see the way Clay points at us with vengeance flashing in his green eyes.

“Get out of here,” I hiss at Grove.

He shoves the van in gear and takes a sharp right around a corner, away from all the flashing sirens. “What the hell happened?” he yells.

In the back I hear Briar half moaning, half singing and Kenji nearly keening, “I couldn’t find you! Where did you go?” Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Briar is sprawled over the backseat with Kenji draped over her body.

“Did you give her alcohol?” I yell at Kenji.

He whips his head toward me. “No! Where would I get it? I don’t even drink. She disappeared with that goon who runs the club.”

I look at Grove negotiating the bumps and potholes of the old, half-paved streets. We pass by empty docks and parking lots full of weeds. I can tell Grove is furious by the way his hands are tight around the wheel and his jaw is clenched. “You guys better be able to explain this,” he barks at me.

“Grove,” I whisper harshly. “Something’s not right back there.”

“No kidding, Zephyr,” he says. “Kenji wakes me up and drags me out of the house at midnight. There are cops, firefighters, Briar half in the bag. What the hell?”

I lean over close to him and squeeze his forearm. “No, listen,” I say as quietly as I can. “Clay and Dawn. Something’s weird.”

Grove looks at me with his eyebrows flexed and his mouth tense. “What?”

I glance over my shoulder. Kenji is absorbed in stroking Briar’s hair and babbling to her, but Timber leans forward, trying to hear my conversation with Grove. I sigh, frustrated, but I know what I have to do. “Sorry, Timb,” I mutter. “Waterfall!” I flick my fingers toward him and instantly he shakes his head and pokes a finger into each of his ears, which are temporarily blocked by the sound of a roaring waterfall inside his head. I turn back to Grove and start talking fast.

“I think Dawn was trying to cast a spell on us. I zapped her, but Timber saw me. It was the only way we could get Briar out of there.”

Grove frowns at me. “You have an overactive imagination.”

“No, listen. I saw the fox in a cage in a storage room.”

His face clouds over but then he shakes his head. “So what? Erdlers are weird. There could be a logical explanation for why they have a fox ...”

I sneak a peek at Timber, who bangs his hand against the side of his head and opens and closes his jaw, trying to get back his hearing, which will return in about five seconds.

“I think they’re dark elves,” I say quickly.

Grove’s eyes flash at me and the van swerves. A truck blares its horn at us and Grove careens the van the other way. I grab the door handle and we all sway left to right and left again. “Whoa! Whoopee!” Briar yells from the backseat, then she laughs.

Grove gets the car in the right lane again, and we stop at a red light.

“Jeez,” Timber says, working his jaw side to side. “What the hell is going on? My head is all plugged up.”

Grove jams the gearshift into neutral and turns to look at me. “What are you talking about?”

I look from him to Timber and back to Kenji and Briar. “I think they drugged her or something.”

“Who?” Timber asks.

“Briar,” I call to the back.

“Thass me!” she says, giggling.

I roll my eyes because drugged or not, she’s annoying. “Why were you down in the basement with Clay and Dawn?”

“Who?” she asks, then hiccups.

I shake my head. “We have to get her home and let Fawna take a look at her,” I tell Grove.

“Dude, don’t tell your parents!” Timber says. “They’ll never let you out of the house again. So Briar got a little tipsy. Obviously Dawn had a few too many herself. Did you see her stumbling around down there in the basement? She couldn’t even talk. Briar will feel like hell tomorrow and she won’t do it again. At least not for a while. It’s just normal teenage crap.” Then he laughs. “I can’t believe you set off the fire alarm, Zeph!”

“Oh crikey,” Grove says, then he puts the car in gear and peals out on the green light.

First we drop Timber at home. He still thinks the whole thing is a big joke, but at least he didn’t see me zap Dawn and he thinks she was tipsy and not under the influence of my magic. In fact, I can’t get him to leave. He hangs by my open window. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning,” he says, all moony-eyed.

“Great,” I tell him. “Good night.”

He leans in. “Just one more kiss, please?”

I lean forward and peck him on the lips.

“No, a real one.” He reaches in and pulls the back of my head forward, then plants a long, luscious kiss on my lips. Not that I don’t like kissing Timber, but I’ve had enough for tonight.

I pull back. “Okay, thanks. Good night. Talk to you in the morning,” I say, but he won’t leave. He grabs my hand and presses it to his cheek.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, and kisses my palm.

I wriggle my hand free. “Yeah, um, miss you, too. Gotta go.”

“You’re so pretty.” He strokes my face.

“Good granite,” Grove mumbles. “Can we get out of here already?”

I look over my shoulder at him. “I’m trying!”

“What time will you get up?” Timber asks.

“I don’t know. I’ll call you, okay?” I push the button to roll up the window, but Timber keeps his hands on top of the glass.

“But what time? I’ll set my alarm,” he calls through the shrinking space between me and him.

“Good night!” I pry his fingers one by one away off the window.

He presses his palms flat against the glass. “Don’t go!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Grove asks.

I ignore his question because I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I wave and smile at Timber, who stands on the curb with his hand pressed against his chest until we turn the corner.

We drop Kenji off next and it’s nearly the same scene prying him off Briar, only Briar’s snoring happily now, so at least she can’t prolong it. I manage to get Kenji out of the van by promising him that Briar will call him first thing in the morning, too.

Once we’re driving back to our neighborhood, I open my mouth to explain things to Grove, but he holds up his hand. “Save it for Mom and Dad.”

“But ...” I say.

“Nope,” he tells me. “I don’t want to hear it. You guys got yourselves into a big mess and you have to clean it up.”

“But ...” I try again.

He raises his hand and flicks his wrist. “Mute!” he says, but I’m quick enough to deflect him. “Backfire,” I say. He shakes his head with disbelief. “When did you get so fast?” he asks.

I shrug. “Don’t know, but it saved my tail tonight. Truce?”

“Truce,” he says. “As long as you shut up.”

“Deal,” I say, and lay my head back against the seat. My body feels as heavy as a dead tree, but my mind races, trying to fit all the pieces together. I know I need to talk to Grandma Fawna before any of this will make sense.

 

“It can all wait until morning,” Grove says as we carry Briar into the house.

“No,” I whisper back to him. “I’m waking Fawna. She’ll be able to tell if Briar is just drunk or if Clay and Dawn did something to her.”

Grove shakes his head. “I’ll help you up the stairs, but then I’m done.”

“You’re such a jerk. Just put her on the couch and I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Fine,” he says.

We sling Briar to the couch, where she curls into a little ball and murmurs. “Near Ironweed.”

“See!” I whisper.

“What?” Grove asks.

“She’s been muttering about Alverland on and off.”

“So what?”

“So that’s weird.”

“No, it’s not,” he says. “She’s loopy right now. Of course she’d talk about something she knows really well.”

He might have a point, but I’m still creeped out by how Dawn was acting. “Just go to bed then.”

“I’d love to.” He turns to go but then he stops at the bottom of the steps. “Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way, for getting up in the middle of the night to save your butt.”

I soften. He’s right. I walk toward him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Thanks for helping us. You didn’t have to do that but you did.”

“Of course I did,” he says, then slowly climbs the stairs.

 

I tiptoe to Fawna’s room, which is in the back of the house on the first floor. I tap on her door then open it slowly. She sleeps peacefully on her back with her long, white hair spread out on the pillow like a butterfly in flight. I see that she holds an amulet shaped like a six-point buck while she sleeps, and I wonder if that’s how she keeps Grandpa close to her heart.

Gently I touch her shoulder. “Grandma,” I whisper. “Grandma Fawna.”

Fawna pops upright and I hop back. “What is it?” she says clearly.

“Dang, you wake up fast,” I say, my hand pressed over my racing heart.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” she asks. “Is everyone okay?”

“I need your help,” I tell her. “Something’s wrong with Briar.”

Fawna tosses her covers back and slips the amulet around her neck. “Hand me my robe,” she says, pointing to the rocking chair as she puts on her slippers. “Where is she? Does she have a fever?”

I lead Grandma to the living room while she ties the robe. “I don’t know how to explain it all but I’ll try ...”

As Grandma touches Briar and listens to her breathe, I recount the night, leaving out the part about going to Timber’s apartment by myself. When I get to the part about the fox, Fawna’s head snaps up and she stares at me.

“You saw it, too?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“I know what a fox looks like.”

“But why would erdlers keep a fox?” she asks more to herself than to me.

When I tell her about Dawn, Grandma puts her hand over her mouth and sits in silence for a moment. Then she says, “Go to the kitchen and put on the kettle, then go into the pantry and get your mother’s small kit of infusions.”

I hurry off and do as she says. A few minutes later I watch her concoct a potion. She steeps several different dried plants from Mom’s tiny glass bottles with little cork stoppers.

“What are you making?” I ask from a kitchen stool, where I sip a mug of warm chamomile tea.

“This will tell me what Briar has ingested over the past several hours,” Grandma says as she mixes precise amounts with a small silver spoon she wears around her neck. “Bring me some honey. We want it to taste good so Briar will drink it all.”

When the potion has steeped and cooled, I carry it into the living room. We sit Briar up and call her name until her eyes flutter open. “Drink this,” Grandma instructs her, and tilts the cup up to Briar’s lips. Briar must be parched because she quickly and easily downs the entire cup, which smells like lavender and honey and strangely of butterscotch with just a hint of dandelion greens. Grandma sets the cup on the end table and waits. After a few seconds Briar begins to hiccup, then she groans and holds the sides of her stomach as she slumps over onto the pillows.

“It’s working,” Grandma says.

I step back. “Is she going to barf?” I’m grossed out that I might have to pick through puke to see what was in her stomach.

“No, no,” Grandma says gently. “Nothing so horrible as that.”

Briar moans and writhes, then she squirms herself upright and opens her eyes wide. She looks slightly terrified as she opens her mouth. I see a line of spit between her parted lips that grows to fill her mouth. Her eyes dart back and forth from Grandma to me as a bubble inflates her cheeks, pushes her lips out, and then escapes her mouth. I hear her stomach gurgling as the iridescent bubble expands. Swirls of colors cover the surface of the bubble, which is big enough to hide Briar’s entire face now. Grandma waits patiently with her hand on Briar’s knee. I stand back fascinated and sort of horrified. The bubble grows and grows while Briar gags and her stomach grumbles angrily until finally she jerks forward and closes her mouth, and the bubble floats away from her.

“Ah,” Grandma says, catching the bubble lightly between her hands. Briar slumps back against the couch with her eyes closed again as if she never woke up. Grandma stands and carries the beautiful, shimmering bubble close to the yellow light from the lamp beside the couch. “Come,” she says. “Have a look.”