15The Snarled Circle Chronicles
15. Blemishes
Eliza hears a strange noise late at night. What she finds is just…
*M
It was a full moon when Eliza came into the world.
She was the eighth child — the one to break the luck of seven and the strength of men. Seven boys her mother had born, and now a girl who would grow up among them, learning their boyish ways through mimicry and never knowing much of her own. There was no law to keep the dust from her cropped hair, nor any beratement for the stains on her trousers and the scratches on her knees. Bruises painted her like a spotted mushroom after a challenge to wrestle. Bits of clay were smeared across her cheeks in pretend-play, naming her the swamp creature hungry for heroes.
Of course, her mother was a witch, and she conspired for Eliza to be a witch, too.
Under moonlit nights, her mother placed her scraped, scarred hands over Eliza's tiny ones, and together they wrenched the stir-stick through a viscous, goopy blue substance in the cauldron that smelled curiously of parsley and yeast. She felt the wood slide under her fingers, but gripped tighter still as the potion brightened and glittered. Flames flickered out green and purple from the logs beneath. They puffed their heat onto the witches. Eliza's mother sighed at the sweat running down her brow, but her little girl was ever-focused on continuing.
In the mornings, before she collected the eggs, Eliza's mother took her mushroom-picking. The trees, stark and brown against the creamy-yellow dawn, held little pockets of moss where Eliza would stick her fingers. Under hollowed trunks, piles of black earth held the rarest treasures. Some mushrooms were good for breakfast, others deadly poisonous. The ones that glowed were good in some healing potions, and others potent ingredients in curses. Eliza was told never to pick mushrooms that grew in rings upon the ground. Likewise the ones which sprang up in an instant and beckoned her with their sweet scent. These were the creations of hobgoblins and imps, and they would only wreak mischief if touched.
Somewhere in her memories, Eliza's mother had been taken by an imp. For a whole month, she acted strangely — shouting at the boys and refusing the kisses of her stubbly father. She devoured half the eggs before anyone else could touch them, and whenever Eliza climbed into her arms at night, she would squeeze the little girl much too tightly, petting her and cooing soft words of pure adoration. When Eliza wriggled free, her mother whined and pulled her hair. She offered to teach a potion-mixing lesson, but Eliza knew in this state, her mother forgot about which mushrooms were safe and which were not, and so the offer was not to be trusted.
When her mother had grown so wild as to snarl at her father and wear her hair in knots, he flashed a pair of iron-hewn scissors. She whimpered at the sight. Eliza watched intrigued behind her father's boots as the wild knots shriveled into ragged gray strings and the kind cheeks deflated and wrinkled into the slimy jowls of a hag. A pair of knifelike ears popped out at the sides of her head, and she clawed at her baggy clothes with fingers like spider legs.
Her father thrust the scissors toward the creature and forced it to lead them deep, deep into the woods, where it showed them Eliza's true mother, sleeping under the roots of an ancient tree. Her father was furious, but Eliza, the compassionate, had offered the hysterical creature a little custard and cake, and it cried happy tears when it finally had to leave.
A sickness came upon Eliza's mother one winter, stripping her of her witchy powers and putting her to rest forever. It was tragic, yet a benefit for her father, who had grown bitter toward magic and forbade Eliza from casting spells and mixing potions. She dropped her witchy skirt and became a boy again, plowing and planting and selling at market. But as soon as she started to grow, and her body transformed without spells or potions, she again consulted her mother's memory.
A cabin in the woods she called her own, with several magical friends coming to visit her. She caught wind of wisps and peeked at Pegasi. She avoided the Toadmuffins' trinkets and swore off the pixies' idle dreams. There was a freedom in the forest, and yet a loneliness resided there, too, deep and tangled like the tendrils of sylvan earth she trod upon. It was a darker curse than any her mother's clients consulted her for. Some days, it left her bedridden. Others, she wept upon the dust. Feeling in Paradise, yet unable to melt into joy as she should. She was an ill-fitting piece. A thing so unique as to float above all else, like a stone asurf on the sea.
Her loneliness was cured, of course, by the dryad who enchanted her with his letters. She fell in love with him so quickly, and even when his verses of love were bad and his letters were rife with angst, she loved him. Nothing and no one could tear her heart from the thought of meeting him. His greatness was almost an illusion, and the idea of holding his hand and kissing his leafy cheek seemed as distant as the moon, yet close as her pillow.
She dreamed of the dryad, even now when she lay so, so far from her home. The dark wizard's attack had shaken her entire village. Some had begged her to stay, and others, like her father, turned her out of home the first chance they got. She'd drifted for months, letting her hair grow long and wavy down her back. She'd gone without shoes and eaten nothing but dry wheat. Her toes had cracked open from rubbing them nervously together. The infection had left her shuddering huddled on the street.
No magic commission could sustain her for long. With the imp scare, anything out of the ordinary was suspicious. She'd made herself useful every chance that came her way — she was compassionate like that — but people were harsh, and to witches they were brutal.
Above Eliza's right ear was her blemish — an orangey-brown patch of mottled skin where a red hot poker was pressed tight against her skull. She always tucked a flower in her hair to hide it from potential new clients. It wasn't her fault, but she was the one holding the magic wand, and she was the one standing in a house where an imp had eaten a child right in front of her.
Despite all his faults — arrogance, moodiness, laziness, precocity and the like, (she couldn't count them all,) Roderich Edelstein let her stay in his mansion. His aunt was always deplorable, but even she'd softened eventually to the idea of another woman in the house, (as long as her nephew didn't have any ideas, and with Eliza's stubbornness, he kept his distance well enough.)
"I suppose I could feel like a princess here," she whispered to the sweet scent of wisteria floating in through her open window. "I've never been in a place so big. It has running water and servants. And that dress."
She peeked beyond her toes to the fluffy, frilly green gown hanging from her chiffarobe. Roderich had bought it for her, telling her she couldn't just wear a bodice with no skirt. It was nothing short of a princess gown, and yet she couldn't bear wearing it. That would tempt the vile boy's fancy, and what use was pretending to be a princess? Gowns were not practical for witches, and so she would not wear one. At least, not one as fancy as that.
"He's not a prince, anyway," she sighed. "He scarfs cake like he's dependent on it, he can't ride, and his nose looks like a beak! Well, perhaps he can't do anything about his nose… He's a poor soul. I shouldn't make fun of him at all. At least not when he gives me a place to stay. Though I've yet to see this imp he complains about day and night. It must be madness!"
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The noise froze her in place, shocking her heart and sending ice down her back. It sounded as if something was whipping itself into the floor.
She waited, then heard it again.
THUMP. THUMP. "No, dammit! Failed again!"
Eliza sat upright, then seized her wand from the side table and set her feet on the floor. She swept her hair back over her shoulders and listened again.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP. "Ha! Maybe I got it. That's beautiful! Oh, wow! Wow! Wait, what are you… disgusting! Ach, failed, failed, failed!"
She was at the door. Her tan hand gripped the handle and turned, careful in every movement. The thumping and the raspy voice certainly weren't out in the hallway, and they weren't coming from the same direction as Ilse's snoring. Quietly, she pressed out into the hallway, wand sparking in the darkness to guide her. The clouds were thick tonight, and the windows across from the walkway where she trod were all black with gloom.
"Pumpkin ass," someone swore from down the hall. Eliza scurried to hunch herself against the wall. The skirt of her nightgown folded, and she almost tripped. Light was coming from a crack beneath the second door in from the "L" shape of the walkway. Red light. Deep, bloody red.
"Shit, you owe me for that! I'm eating your cake! Your aunt can lock you up with no breakfast again."
Aunt? Eliza thought. What? Roddy… that's Roddy's room…
The door to Roderich's room swung open, and bloody light washed over the whole walkway. Eliza thrust her wand toward the scrawny silhouette which controlled the light around it. It gave a raspy hum, and the glow dulled to a tiny speck of crimson that floated above its head. Its ears — ears! twitched and wiggled at either side of its head. It sniffed with a nose even more beaky than Roderich's and stepped out into the carpeted hall, then pulled the door shut behind it.
Eliza charged the thing. She brandished her wand before shoving it right up under the creature's chin. Bulging red eyes stared up at her in terrible shock. Pointed ears pulled down, and crooked fangs were revealed. Its body collapsed before her before it could even speak. Then it scooted pathetically back until it was seated in the corner, trembling and sputtering.
"Who are you?" She spat, letting a bit of energy run down her arm and into the wand, which glowed a deadly green.
"Uh, eh, m-me?" The imp rambled in the voice of a cantankerous, elderly man. "I'm… er… I don't know… something evil. I'm evil! You're… why are you, no, stupid question. Who are you?"
She stepped forward. "You changed your voice. That's not the one you were using earlier. What were you doing in Roderich's room?"
"Nothing that concerns you, witchy woman. In fact, it doesn't concern any human at all."
"It concerns Roderich. He's human."
This sparked his interest. "Oh pooh, he's not human. He's gotta have the genetic material of at least a dozen chicken breeds inside him, plus ostrich since that was already there. I have to wipe him clean and make him fully human again next week. Tight schedule to keep. The pomegranates aren't working. I need to go for some blueberry infusion thingy. Sparkling water, maybe? Do you think sparkling water would work? He's not growing plump like a chicken! I want him to be a total loaf!"
The ingredients called up a ghastly image in her mind. "You're changing him into a chicken?"
"Unless you have a better idea. Is there anything that works even better than pomegranates or blueberries?"
"Nothing that I would know of. Now what were you doing in there? Slamming him against the wall?"
"Nah, he does that himself. It was funny the first few times, but now he just does it to annoy me 'cause I can't see how the potions are affecting him. Can you believe it? Somehow he imbued himself with salt, and now none of my changeling magic will work on him. I had to read up on Nathanic and Svenic enchantments as a hybrid with potionery. Ach, Nathan has too many footnotes, Sven makes transformation into a boring science, and with my mischievous mind, I can't get either to work!"
She crouched down, then placed the tip of her wand under his chin again and pressed. His scarred lips folded back over his teeth. The points of his ears turned completely blue.
"I put that ward on him to protect him from monsters like you. How is this funny? Playing with him like he's a propher and using him for twisted experiments? Don't you want to eat him or swap with him or something?"
"Oh, I'd never swap with him. The point of swapping is to distract a changeling from the fact that he hates himself, and I have other ways of doing that. Plus Roderich's a snivel-schnozz, and I hate him more than I hate myself. I'd love him if he were a plump clucking chunker."
"Why, so you could cuddle him like a pet?"
"Exactly. Turning something dangerous and vile into something harmless and fluffy and cute. I've got a little boy at home who would love a pet."
The image returned to her. Her mother, all hunched and screechy, squeezing her and pulling her hair, just so she could savor a bit of love. This imp was even uglier than the one who had taken her mother, and the way it, he looked at her with that same vicious longing…
"You're hideous, inside and out."
This seemed to pain him. He tucked his ears low and squirmed when she twisted the wand even deeper into his neck.
"I've never seen you here before. How'd you find your way into Roddy McFoul's house? Don't tell me a woman like you would stoop so low. He's an ugly duck, and you're… you're beautiful."
"He's nice to me. I've had a hard life, and yeah, he's a bit of a schnoz, but he's… he's kind of sweet, and he lets me live here as long as I keep applying the wards. How'd you get past them?"
The imp ignored her question. "You think he's… sweet? Don't tell me you like him. Gag. That's a total joke, right?"
"No, I don't like him. He's not my type."
"What is your type? Rugged? Woodsy? Mousy sweetheart?"
"You like to talk a lot, don't you? Why don't you tell me how you got past the wards around the house, and we'll call it a night."
"Can't do that yet. He spat on me, and now I have to eat all his cake."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Yes. Eat all of it. He doesn't need that in the house. The wards? Hm?"
"The wards, the wards… I'll tell you how I got through the wards for a kiss, milady!"
He seemed way too eager for this. Eliza jabbed the wand. A thin crackle of green static lit up his throat, and he whined.
"They're ill-made, princess. Negative thoughts make them stronger."
"Is that so? Well, I'll tell you I'm not a princess, nor duchess, nor any sort of lady you can imagine. I'm a witch, and I lived in the woods for most of my life, and… I don't know why I'm here. Maybe I like having people around who are at least a little nice to me."
"Haven't you ever been in love?"
"Yeah. With a dryad. That's my type. Dryads. So you can take your bony ass and drag it as far away from Edelweiss as you can. Got it?"
Her wand flickered, and the imp nodded. But before he scampered off down the stairs to steal his cake, he seized her wrist and planted a wet, thin-lipped kiss on her hand. His whole face turned blue, and his grin grew as big as the crescent moon now hanging from the black, black clouds.
"I love you, my princess! Stay away from Roderich! He'll bring you nothing! Goodnight!"
When he was gone, she turned her attention to the dark room. She thrust open the door and looked within. Something moaned on the floor. Her slipper hit something soft, and she realized it was Roderich's face.
"Roddy. Roddy, are you all right? What did he do to you?"
She seized his arms and propped him up against the wall. Her wand lit up. A green orb of light floated out to illuminate the room. Roderich's nightshirt was slashed at the shoulder. Eliza got a good look at several scars lining his skin beneath the fabric. He choked, then doubled over and spat out a glob of black sludge that melted on the floor in front of him. Something reed-like pushed past his lips. He tugged at it and revealed it to be a feather at least a foot long. A few more spilled from his throat when he coughed.
A belly full of feathers. So that was the failure.
"Eliza?" His voice came out thin and raspy. He gasped at the sight of her, then clawed at his chest. "You're… not supposed to see me like this."
"Why wouldn't you come get me?"
"I tried. He makes my limbs useless, and once he makes me drink the potions, it hurts too much. Did you see him? He's real. Believe me. Believe me!"
"Do you feel sick? Should I get your aunt?"
"No! She never believes me. She's just like my parents. But you have to believe me, please."
His eyes lit up in the darkness, huge and frightened and so, so very purple.
"Have your eyes always been that color?"
"They used to be blue… like my mother's. Help me up. My stomach doesn't hurt as much. I think they're all gone. Wait… one more."
He belched, and a feather as thick as his hand fell out of his mouth with a splat in the puddle of upset. His lips were all coated in fuzz. Eliza pulled him to his feet and helped him get back into bed, wiping his face with her handkerchief. The floor of the bedroom was all wet and sticky with feathers, still warm under the soles of her slippers. They stank, but Roderich was utterly indifferent, and it worried her greatly.
"You have the Blemish of Comanix Max," she explained. "It's got something to do with black bile. This substance all humans have that physically represents sadness. When there's enough of it, and it's exposed to magic, a chemical reaction occurs that presents itself as a change in eye color."
"That's not real, though. The black bile. It's poetic stuff."
She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "When did the change happen?"
"I suppose it happened the night my parents were cursed. I remember seeing nothing but red, then everything turned purple. Oh, it's simple. My eyes were blue, and that imp's energy manifests as red. Enough curses in me, and they mixed."
"No, no, it's definitely the Blemish of Comanix Max. Seeing your parents cursed produced enough melancholy to react with the curses."
"I don't care, Eliza. Just… will you let me rest? I—"
She slipped her arms around him and squeezed. Tight, tighter, until his idle back popped. His dark hair was soft on her cheek, almost brushing the place above her ear where she had none. His body was so fragile, she felt like she could break him. He shivered, and she rubbed his back.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Half the time I didn't believe you. I was just indulging you so I could live here. You didn't turn me away."
"Is this supposed to be a compliment? I don't like being touched."
"It's a hug, you ass."
"Oh…"
It was the only thing he could voice, for he was exhausted. But slowly, he straightened himself and put his arms around her waist, nuzzling his cheek into her shoulder and giving a long, soft breath out.
Together they sat, holding one another with no exchanges needed, until Eliza lay his sleeping form back on the bed and tucked him in. She left and returned shortly with some herbs and a tiny vial of rosewater, the healing fluid she'd been using on her toes. Gently, she let a few drops of it trickle past his lips. He cringed in his sleep, but a little smile appeared for a second, and that was what she wanted.
"Thank you, Roderich."
Once more, she ran her fingers through his hair, then extinguished her wand and returned to bed, wondering if feathers could be any softer.
BONUS:
Gilbert flew down the stairs, his heart enraptured and his spirit soaring higher and higher. He'd kissed her! He'd kissed her and told her he loved her! Never mind the circumstances. This was a night to remember! And he would begin the celebration with all the cake he could find in Roderich's icebox.
"I can't believe his stupid aunt keeps making it for him! Nah, he probably makes it for himself. But why would she let him? Too much cake is bad for humans. I learned that by finding out what Luddy eats. Mmmmm, her skin was so soft~! Like silk, no, grass on a hill! With silk on it! And, EH!?"
A wraith the size of a small child stared at him from the kitchen counter with eyes that glowed blue in the dark. It had pulled open the cabinet above and appeared to be stuffing its face with something from within. No movements were made as Gilbert approached. The wraith simply stared him down, then hissed as if keeping its territory. Gilbert dared to step closer. The wraith's face was concealed in shadows, but Gilbert could make out the smear of chocolate frosting all over its fingers and face.
"Eh, hey, any cake left for me, kid?" Gilbert joked.
The wraith bared its teeth, which swelled and stretched into gleaming yellow fangs.
"Fuck off."
~N~
I was reading in bed, which always makes me sleepy, and instead of taking a nap, I got up and wrote this in one sitting. That's a first for this series. ^^ Oh well, boring paper to write tomorrow, so I got the sillies out tonight.
A propher is a small mouselike creature, shaped like a banana with no tail. They feed on dream energy and can jump super high! Usually found in dark, messy places.
Next episode: TBD
Published by Syntax-N on FanFiction . Net 25 April 2020. Find your Zen and push through these fake-feeling finals! Don't repost.
