Celia and the Fairies Page 3

  “What’s a shadow thing?” Celia asked, snuggling closer to her grandmother.

  “I’m so very glad you asked,” Grammy said, smiling. “I’m one of the few people in the world who knows the answer to that, and now I’m going to tell you. It’s a secret that I’ve kept mostly to myself. The few people I’ve told thought I was joking or crazy, so after a while I learned to keep quiet about it.” She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “To answer your question, a shadow thing is a creature who stirs up bad energy and tries to influence what people say and do. They want people to steal and cheat and lie because then they can feed off the evil. They love greed and selfishness because those two things are the roots of human conflicts. We people live our lives going to work and school, doing all the things we do, never knowing that under the surface there are forces of good and evil at work. It affects everyone and everything.”

  Celia felt her throat tighten. “Isn’t there anything we can do about the shadow things?”

  Her grandmother smiled. “Every day when we make the right choices we defeat them. Every time you get an idea to do something you shouldn’t, whether it’s to say a mean thing or cheat on a test, and then you don’t do it because you know it’s wrong, you’ve battled the evil and won. People are more powerful than they know.”

  “But sometimes the shadow things win?”

  “Yes, sometimes they win. They prey on people when they’re at their weakest, confused and tired and depressed. That’s when we sometimes get help from fairies and other good spirits.”

  “What can the good spirits do?”

  “The good spirits try to help us and guide us to do what is right. That’s why dark things are always trying to destroy fairies. And that’s why the dark thing, disguised as a coyote, wanted to destroy Mira.”

  “Mira—that was the fairy’s name?” Celia asked.

  Grammy said, “Yes, that was her name. It was Mira who came up to us on the balcony the first night, and she was also the one cornered by the shadow thing. I didn’t know it was a shadow thing at the time, though. They’re very good at taking other forms and disguising themselves. I thought it was a rabid coyote. When I first saw it I was shaking with fright, but when Mira turned to me and I saw how she was counting on me, I forgot my fear and got a surge of strength. I picked up a stick off the ground and waved it at the thing and started yelling at it to go away.”

  “And it ran off then?”

  “No, but it backed up a little bit, growling and snapping its teeth the whole time. I was able to get closer to Mira. I kept yelling and waving my stick with one hand, and with the other hand I was able to free her from the thorn-bush. Once she was loose she flew up in the air, fluttered her wings, and made this wonderful noise to call the other fairies. I can’t describe the sound exactly, but it was kind of like…” Grammy looked up dreamily. “Like a mixture of a symphony playing and beautiful singing. Like the most wonderful music you’ve ever heard. It filled me with such joy.” She looked down at Celia. “Have you ever heard anything like that?”

  Celia thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  Grandmother sighed. “It’s a shame. No one else I know has ever heard it either. So beautiful, like a noise from heaven. Anyway, Mira was calling her friends, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by fairies, dozens of them. The light they gave off was so bright it lit up the woods. I saw the coyote explode into dust particles and get sucked off into the darkness.”

  “It just disappeared?” Celia asked, amazed. “How come?”

  “It couldn’t stand to be in the presence of so many light beings. Shadow things thrive on negativity, and fairies are just the opposite. They’re here on earth to do good. That’s why the shadow thing was trying to kill Mira.”

  “What happened next?”

  “The fairies hovered around me with their wings fluttering and their lights glowing. They were so curious about me. It’s not often they get so close to a human. Their little voices were chattering away. I could just barely make out what they were saying. Mira had a close call, they said. She shouldn’t have been out by herself at night. They said she was lucky I’d come to help, but they were worried now that I would tell people about them and where they lived in the Watchful Woods.”

  Putting her arm around Celia, she added, “That’s what they call the woods behind this house—the Watchful Woods. Anyway, when I arrived on the scene, they didn’t know what to make of me. Very few people can actually see them, and the fairies like it that way. They value their privacy, you know. Fairy work requires complete secrecy.”

  Celia nodded, even though she was a little unclear on what work her grandmother meant.

  “I assured them I could keep a secret,” Grammy said. “I promised not to tell a living soul, and for the most part I kept my promise.” She sighed happily. “Anyway, that first night they took a vote and decided I was trustworthy. They can read people, you know. They look right into your heart.”

  “Were you afraid?” Celia looked up and met Grammy’s twinkling eyes.

  Her grandmother shook her head. “No, I wasn’t afraid. I was fascinated, if you want to know the truth of the matter. After they told me I could go, I got the notion to hold out my hand like this,” she said, stretching her arm out, palm up, “and Mira came and stood on my fingertips. It tickled a little, but I kept steady and she danced up my arm until she was on my shoulder. Then she whispered in my ear, ‘Thank you, Celia.’”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Even though Celia said she couldn’t play, Paul wasn’t about to let it go. If she wouldn’t come to his house, he would go to hers. He rushed out the back door, yelling, “Ma, I’m going to play at Celia’s,” and then took off running. He knew if he paused his mother would have stopped him with some chore. Having him take the dog for a walk was her latest thing. The vet had said Clem was overweight and slept too much, but Paul didn’t think that was his problem.

  When he reached Celia’s house, he bounded up the porch steps, a walkie-talkie in each hand. Paul was counting on Celia’s Grammy to invite him inside. Once that happened, he’d be the guest and get to decide what they’d play that day. It would be spy games, of course; that was his newest interest. And they’d play in the woods. The weather was warm and pleasant. Way too nice to be stuck indoors.

  Paul peered through the screen door into the entryway. Nervously he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. They’d have to let him in! He’d shifted the walkie-talkies under one arm and was just lifting his hand to knock when he heard voices coming from the living room: first Celia, then an older woman. The words were garbled. Paul turned his head to one side and listened intently but couldn’t understand what they were saying. By the sound of Celia’s voice, though, they were talking about something really interesting.

  A change of plan was in order. Spies had to be adaptable. Slowly he crept back down the steps and sneaked around to the side of the house, where to his relief, the living room windows were open. Crouching down, he pressed his back against the house so he wouldn’t be visible. The brick against his spine was uncomfortable, but he took it like a tough guy. A secret agent never complained.

  The conversation came out above his head, like sitting below a radio. He held his breath as he heard Celia’s grandmother say something about fairies hovering around her, giving off a bright light. She said she’d promised not to tell. He let out a sigh in disappointment. Celia’s grandmother was just telling fairy tales. How babyish. Even his own grandmother had enough sense not to treat him like a little kid. Disappointed, he sat down and pulled at a blade of grass until it snapped off.

  Celia sounded interested in this fairy stuff, asking her grandmother if she’d been afraid. And her Grammy answered yes, she had been afraid, as if this fairy thing had really happened. Like it was true.

  Girls were so weird.

  Paul regretted leaving his mini-recorder at home. He’d have loved to have taped this whole discussion so he could listen to it later. If not
hing else, it would be fun to play it back to Celia and tease her about it.

  His ears perked up when he heard Grammy say, “We probably should keep this story between ourselves. I don’t think your parents would appreciate me telling you all this. I know they don’t believe me when I say it’s true.”

  “So I can’t tell anyone?” Celia asked.

  “No, I think this should be our little secret.” Grammy’s voice floated through the window screen. “I’ll tell you the rest of the story later, but for now I’m thinking I should put the chicken and rice in the oven so it’s ready when your parents get home. Is this usually when you start your homework?”

  “I do it after dinner,” Celia said. “Can’t we just keep talking about Mira and the rest of them? You said there’s so much more.”

  Her grandmother laughed. “I don’t want to use up the whole story all in one afternoon. Don’t you think it will be more fun to leave the rest until tomorrow after school?” Paul heard Celia reluctantly agree and then the sound of footsteps as the two left the room. As he crept around the side of the house to make his way home, a thought flew into his head: Come back tomorrow and bring the recorder.

  Celia would be sorry she’d ditched him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  That night, Celia had trouble falling asleep. She shifted from side to back and returned to her side again. Next she rearranged her pillow and tried counting sheep. Finally, after hearing her parents walk past her doorway on the way to their own bedroom, she resorted to the old trick of listening to herself breathe, while imagining her legs getting heavier and heavier. This usually worked.

  Just as she felt herself slipping into sleep, she heard a girl’s voice call her name. Celia. It came from outside. Celia. A voice carried on the wind, from the direction of the woods. Oh, Celia…

  She got out of bed and looked out the french doors that led to the balcony. Complete darkness until—there it was—a flash of light! This time she knew she hadn’t imagined it. She opened the door and stepped outside onto the clammy wood of the balcony. The sky was so big, black, and menacing that she hesitated for a moment, but then pushed through her fear and edged over to the railing. Again she heard the voice. It came from the woods, just as she’d thought. Celia.

  “Yes, I’m here,” Celia called out. “Who’s there?”

  The voice was now inside her head and all around her at the same time. “Celia, we need your help.” In an instant, a spot of light darted from the woods and appeared in front of her. A fairy girl, a dazzling beauty with luminous wings and a dress trimmed in ruby colored jewels, fluttered inches from her face.

  “Mira,” Celia said, with complete certainty. “You’re Mira.”

  The fairy girl nodded. “Listen, Celia, we need your help. This is important.”

  “Help with what?”

  “Vicky McClutchy must be dealt with, do you hear me? She’s up to some evil, and you’re the only one who can stop her, Celia.”

  “Vicky McClutchy?” What did this mean? Vicky McClutchy was the woman who wanted to buy her parents’ toy company. Celia had seen a photo of her once in a magazine. Vicky was tall and skinny with dark brown hair and a big toothy smile. Not scary at all. Her father didn’t like Ms. McClutchy much, and her mother called her ruthless, but she’d never heard them say she was evil.

  Mira landed on the railing next to Celia’s hand. “Yes, Vicky McClutchy. She must be stopped at any cost. It’s up to you, Celia.”

  “But what…I mean…how am I supposed to stop her? I don’t understand.”

  The fairy girl looked back at the woods in alarm. “I can’t stay. It’s not safe. Just remember what I told you. Come out to the Triple Trees during the day. Bring the flute, and I’ll explain then.” She lifted off and called out, “Don’t forget.” Celia saw Mira’s light get smaller as she traveled farther away. She still had her in her sights when she heard Mira scream, a horrible, painful scream. Celia watched, horrified, as the spot of light disappeared like a candle snuffed out.

  “Mira,” Celia yelled, her arms reaching out. “What happened, Mira? Come back.” The night wrapped itself around her, making it hard for her to breathe. The dark was so intense it blinded her. She gripped the railing, but it dissolved in her hands. “Mira,” she screamed. The air got thicker, and she had trouble catching her breath. As she gasped, something pulled her out of her panic.

  Cool hands were shaking her. “Celia, wake up. You’re dreaming.” It was her mother. Celia sat up and gulped air, and then she threw her arms around her mother. Mom stroked her hair and whispered, “Shhh, shh, it was just a dream. You’re fine, you’re just fine.”

  “I was dreaming?” Celia said, wiping her eyes.

  “Yes,” her mother murmured, “it was just a bad dream. You’re safe here in your own bed. Dad and I are right down the hall, and the house is locked up tight. Don’t worry. Nothing bad can happen anymore. You’re safe now.”

  But it didn’t feel like a dream.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After Celia fell back asleep, her mother walked down the hall and climbed back into bed.

  “Is she okay?” asked her father.

  Celia’s mother thought carefully before answering. “I’m not sure, really. She’s asleep now, but it took a long time for her to calm down. I told her it was just a bad dream, but she insisted it felt real. She kept saying over and over again that Mira told her Vicky McClutchy must be stopped.”

  “Mira?” Her father sat up. “Are you sure she said the name Mira?”

  “Well, yes. I’m sure. Mira told her Vicky McClutchy must be stopped. That’s exactly what she said.”

  “That’s so odd.” He rubbed his chin. “My mother talked about a Mira when I was about Celia’s age. I was having the strangest dreams, and I think my mom was trying to make me feel better. You know I got the idea for Trixie-Dixie in a dream when I was just a boy?”

  Celia’s mother sighed. She’d heard this story at least a hundred times.

  “I dreamt about these twin fairy girls who were good deed experts. In my dream, they gave me all the details for the game. I got up the next morning and wrote it all down, and that was the start of Trixie-Dixie: The Good Deed Game.”

  “I heard about the dream before,” her mother said, not mentioning that it had been at least a hundred times. “But you never said anything about fairies. I would have remembered that.”

  Dad cleared his throat. “I always leave out that part, ever since I told Vicky McClutchy about it in fourth grade. She blabbed about it to the whole school, and for the rest of the year I had to listen to ‘Jonathan Lovejoy talks to fairies.’ You can imagine how mortifying that was.”

  “Yes, I can imagine that must have been hard.”

  “I was the laughingstock of the whole school. Even the first graders talked about it. They flapped their arms whenever I walked by. I kept hoping they’d forget, but it lasted all year.”

  “How terrible,” Celia’s mother said sympathetically, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

  “Terrible doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Dad grumped, and then he settled back down between the covers. “It was torture. And then there was that business at the National Science Fair in sixth grade. My project was ahead all the way through, but at the last minute she mysteriously got extra points and won first prize. By all rights, that trophy was mine. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Vicky McClutchy?”

  “Only a few thousand times.”

  They lay silently facing the ceiling. Then Celia’s mother said, “Funny that Celia’s dream had both Vicky McClutchy and Mira, don’t you think?”

  Dad sighed. “Probably got the name Mira from talking to her grandmother. And maybe she heard us talking about our business meeting with Vicky.” They both thought about their trip to McClutchy Toys—the sleek, thirty-two–story skyscraper with its cold, marble floors and bright lights. Vicky’s office was at the top, and was notable for its lack of toys. “What kind of toy company president doesn’t ha
ve toys in the office?” Celia’s father had asked on the drive home.

  The offices at Lovejoy World were filled with toys. When Celia came during vacation breaks, there were any number of things to occupy her time. Puzzles and games and stuffed animals sat on shelves and desks and on the floor. Models of pterodactyls and eagles hung from the ceiling. Celia’s father was always working on something new, and he welcomed ideas from his employees. The boy who pushed the broom and emptied the trash helped develop a model-sized circus with a trapeze act that worked with pulleys. Marge, the woman in charge of the plush department, brought in new animal ideas from printouts she found on the National Geographic Web site.

  Happy music played in the office and throughout the factory. Celia’s father was a big believer that music affected mood and productivity. Sometimes the workers left their posts to dance. No one minded; in fact, it was expected.

  At McClutchy Toys, it was a different story. The offices were as sterile and unwelcoming as an orthodontist’s examining room. Their products were manufactured in some other country, so there was no on-site factory.

  When Celia’s parents had arrived for their business meeting with Vicky McClutchy, her assistant met them with a frown and a raised finger, to indicate he was busy with a phone call. His nameplate said his name was Chase Downe. When Mr. Downe was done reciting a string of numbers, he hung up the phone and asked their names. “Oh yes,” he replied. “You are expected.” Chase gave the impression he didn’t want to be there, which Celia’s father thought was too bad because he believed people should like their jobs.

  The assistant ushered them into Ms. McClutchy’s office, a harshly lit space with a desk large enough for three people. Vicky McClutchy stood looking out the window, her back to the room.

  After a minute, Dad cleared his throat to get her attention.

  Vicky McClutchy turned around and smiled, showing all her teeth, then crossed the room to meet them. “Jonathan, how good to see you again. And your lovely wife Michelle.” She reached out to shake hands. “I think you’ll find this meeting to be of great interest. I have an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”