Bubbles and Troubles (7 page)

“Yes, Father,” Brock agreed.

“And Brock, I do not need to remind you of the rules of Castle Speranza, do I?” he asked. “I put my trust in you.”

“That’s as it should be, Father,” Brock replied.

“And what of the chickens?” asked Paloma.

“And the dog?” Lowell added.

“Argghhh!” Gavin threw his hands into the air. “Go get the damn chickens and the thrice-damned dog,” he barked. “What do I care? Turn Castle Speranza into a zoo, right under my feet. After all, I’m just the one who built it—what does my opinion matter?” Gavin stalked out of the room and to the front door. “Retrieve the animals and we will discuss the matter of Calvin Prescott,” his voice thundered from the porch as he exited.

“Right, then,” Paloma said cheerfully. “Let’s go get my chickens!”

“And don’t forget my dog!” Lowell added.

“Excuse me,” Carmen insisted. “I appreciate very much that you all voted to keep me around instead of whatever vile thing you had in mind, but I’ll remind you that they are
my
chickens”—she gave Paloma a meaningful glare—“and
my
dog,” Carmen informed Lowell. “Although,” she acquiesced, “I am certainly willing to share them.”

Chapter Eight

As they journeyed with Paloma and Lowell to fetch Dax, the chickens and Spare Tire, Carmen learnt more of the history of Prescott Woods.

“When Father arrived at Charade, it wasn’t much more than a trading post and a flea-infested inn,” Brock told her. “To him, though, it seemed perfect. He wanted nothing more than an escape from New York City and the consumption that had claimed Mother’s life. He wanted to take us where we could never get sick. He promised Mother on her deathbed that he would protect us.”

Lowell grunted in agreement. “You were just seven then, Brock,” he added, “but old enough to understand what was happening. It was a terrible time. Paloma and I were frightened, but of course we had to obey Father and leave everything we knew in the city.”

“We were still children ourselves,” added Paloma, “but I was ten and old enough to watch the wee ones while Father searched for our new home. Lowell was twelve, but already as tall as a man, so he guarded the rest of us.”

Brock took Carmen’s hand to steady her as she picked her way across the raised stones in a bubbling stream. “At the Charade Inn, Father heard rumours of the haunted woods,” Brock continued. “It seemed that no one was brave enough to venture into the woods for fear of evil spirits and strange monsters. To Father, it was perfect! No one would trouble us if we settled in a place they were afraid to approach, and he thought all the talk of supernatural beings was nonsense. Father left the four of us with the innkeeper, Mack Prescott, and his wife when he went to explore the woods.”

Korbin said, “We can’t imagine what Father encountered. Prescott Woods was, and is, full of beings far removed from the world of man. At that time, they were disorganised and leaderless, but Father must have encountered a troll or two, and elves can be vicious about traps and snares.”

“Three long days passed,” Lowell continued. “As the oldest, I worried nonstop while he was gone. What if he never returned at all? Where would we go? Mack Prescott and his wife were nice enough, but they were hardly prepared to take in four kids permanently. When Father came limping up to the Charade Inn, I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders.”

Paloma chuckled. “Father looked like he’d been dragged through a briar patch and over a cliff by a team of wild horses. He was elated, though. There was a hopeful excitement about him that had been missing ever since Mother died. I still remember what he said then, ‘Come, children. Bring your things. I will settle with the innkeep. I have found our new home.’ We followed him through the woods. We heard frightening, inhuman sounds all around us, but Father was fearless. ‘I am the master of these woods now,’ he told us, ‘for I have bested all creatures who dared to fight me. The beings here have pledged their loyalty to me and are at my command.’”

“We saw the proof of Father’s new status as soon as we reached the camp,” Brock stated. “There were four small, bent women—gnomes, we learnt—ready to wait on us. Gnome men had constructed a wooden home for us next to the opening to the bathing cavern. We stayed in that wooden home while Castle Speranza was built and Father hammered out the details of his arrangement with Mack Prescott.”

“It must have taken ages,” Carmen noted. “Digging, cutting and placing all those rocks are monumental jobs.”

“True,” answered Brock, “but we had a few things going for us. Father had a framed drawing of Acqua Dolce castle near Padua, Italy. Mother grew up near the castle and always loved it. She kept the drawing after she and Father married and crossed the Atlantic. Father gave the drawing to the gnomes, who are skilled, tireless workers. With the help of some trolls, who were also obedient to Father’s will, the castle work went quickly. In just a few months, our new home was ready for us.”

“But what about all those furnishings?” Carmen asked. “The chandeliers, the rugs, the furniture, the paintings, the mirrors…”

Brock shrugged. “Magical beings are, well, magical, Carmen. After the structure was built, Father called on the elves for the interior work. Fine carving, weaving, artwork—they’re good at that sort of thing.”

“It’s pretty remarkable that your father was able to enlist their help. Did they resent it?”

“It was in the magical beings’ best interest, too,” Lowell interjected. “They didn’t have a ruler, and historically had been unable to abide by a creature of a different sort giving them orders. That is, the elves wouldn’t tolerate a gnome ruler, and the tree spirits would never put up with a troll bossing them about. The woods were in a constant state of battle and confusion. A powerful human ruler was ideal. Father offered peace and protection to the creatures of Prescott Woods in exchange for their obedience in constructing Castle Speranza and then Prescott Manor.”

Carmen caught a glimpse of her chicken coop’s tin roof ahead through the trees. Spare Tire crowed, probably protesting Dax getting too close to his ladies. Carmen emerged alone, blinking, into the bright sunlight. She turned and saw three raccoons waddle from the trees behind her. One with a silver patch of fluffy hair on its head sat back on its haunches and made a shooing gesture towards the house. “All right, all right,” she muttered. “I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

If Dax had been unsure about the stray cat, he had been downright mistrustful of the three raccoons, especially when they revealed their human visages to him and commenced with chicken relocation. Dax chuffed and complained as he followed at Carmen’s heels. Spare Tire allowed Carmen to carry him, although he clucked nonstop and occasionally let out an exasperated crow. Lowell tucked Agatha, the grey Silkie, under one arm and Suellen, the New Hampshire Red, under the other. Brock carried Gretel, Carmen’s hefty Jersey Giant, and Korbin reached for black-and-white speckled Bella. Paloma was especially enchanted with Scarlett and Melanie, who backed into a fenced corner of the yard and huddled together, clucking fretfully. She held one fluffy Faverolle in each arm so they could nestle together on the return hike.

* * * *

The walk home was long, arduous and entirely too full of feathers for Carmen’s liking. She was fond of Spare Tire, but he gave her a sharp peck or two and she would be relieved to put him down. She wasn’t sure what to expect upon arrival to Castle Speranza, only that Brock had assured her that the gnomes and elves would take care of everything.

When she laid eyes upon it at last, Carmen gaped. “It’s the most beautiful chicken coop I’ve ever seen!” she gushed. “Just look at it, Brock!”

Carmen rushed to the new structure, situated behind Castle Speranza between the pond and the woods. An ornate five-foot wrought iron fence surrounded the chicken yard. The fence was gorgeous, but it had nothing on the coop. Like a miniature version of the castle itself, the raised coop was fashioned of interlocking stone. It rested on six short stone columns and even had a tower and a slate roof. Carmen placed Spare Tire on the ground so he could strut around and investigate the new digs. Paloma gently released Scarlett and Melanie. They clung close to Paloma’s legs and watched as Gretel, Agatha, Bella, and Suellen raced around the fenced yard and up the ridged ramp into the coop.

“You sure they’ll be okay?” Carmen worried. “No trolls will come for a midnight snack?”

“No, the chickens are under our protection now,” Brock assured her, “as are you, and the magical beings of the woods will steer clear of them. The friendlier ones, like the tree spirits and elves, will even protect them should the need arise.”

“Where are the people who made it?” Carmen wondered. “I’d love to thank them for this.”

Brock shrugged. “You don’t have to,” he answered. “They’re just gnomes.”

“But this seems awfully permanent, don’t you think?” Carmen added. “I mean, as soon as we’ve stopped the development of the woods and your father has decided he can trust me, I’m going back home and, uh, I want to take my chickens with me.”

“Dream on,” Paloma muttered. She sat down on the grassy floor of the coop to admire the chickens. “You’re not going anywhere. Father would never allow it.”

“Nothing is set in stone, Paloma,” Brock argued. “Who knows what Father will eventually decide?”

Paloma raised her eyebrows and looked away, clearly unconvinced. Melanie hopped into her lap and snuggled in for some petting.

Korbin and Lowell made their goodbyes. Korbin headed to the library to research chickens and how to maximise egg production. After asking Carmen’s permission, Lowell took Dax on a tour of the property. Dax went with the enormous, gruff man happily enough, probably relieved to be away from a noisy, crowing Spare Tire.

Brock took Carmen’s hand and led her around to the front of the castle. “Alone at last.” He smiled. “Are you doing okay, Carmen?”

“I suppose,” she answered, “given that for the foreseeable future I’m staying in a castle built by gnomes surrounded by woods full of magical creatures.”

“And with me,” Brock amended. “Don’t forget that I’ll be here.” He swept her up into his arms and covered her mouth in a tender kiss.

Carmen’s body reacted at once, softening and warming and growing damp in all the right places. She lifted her hand to the back of his neck to stroke his buttery soft skin and urge him to deepen his kiss.

“Hmm,” Carmen breathed when Brock’s lips parted from hers. His bright blue eyes promised mystery, passion, magic. “This is fascinating and thrilling,” she whispered, “and I’m not complaining, Brock, but I hope you understand that I’ve got to get back home eventually, where I belong. I have friends and a life in Charade.”

Brock pressed his lips to hers once more in response. “I’m sure you’d like to freshen up,” he told her, “and you must be hungry and thirsty, too.”

One and a half seconds later, a waist-high man clad in a roughspun toga stood at Brock’s side. He bore a tray holding a goblet of iced liquid and a bunch of plump red grapes in his knobby, oversized hands.

“Ah, refreshments,” Brock said. The gnome bobbed his heavily wrinkled head in deference and stood at attention. Carmen accepted the goblet from Brock and took one hesitant sip from it. She licked her lips and downed the glass of sweet, fresh apple juice. Brock took the grapes from the tray and sent the gnome on his way just as Carmen began to thank him for her drink.

“Let me show you the bathing cavern,” he said, casting his eyes about as he spoke. “It’s where we bathe and, um, restore ourselves.”

Carmen noticed a new gravity and nervous uncertainty in his voice.
What could be so ominous about a bathroom?
she wondered.

Brock led her around to the other side of Castle Speranza. Carmen’s eyes drank in the peaceful, cool pond when it entered her sight once more. The glassy water reflected the rich blue sky and gnarled tree limbs overhead. Swans glided across the surface, breaking the sharp mirror image into a swirled, blurry impressionist painting. Mama wood duck and her babies were just exiting on the woods’ side of the pond. Jewel-toned dragonflies swooped and dove inches over the gleaming surface. Carmen heard the jubilant warble of a wren hidden in the woods.

Chapter Nine

Brock stopped in front of a thick wooden door set into a squat stone structure. The small archway and door were hardly fancy, but looked as though they could stand up to a tornado, an enraged bear, and an earthquake all at once. Brock’s gaze flitted from side to side and over his shoulder as he slid the wide wooden bolt. He hurried Carmen inside then shut the door behind him.

Unlike the electrified castle, the tunnel to the bathing cavern was lit only by candles. It felt warm, safe, and almost womb-like to Carmen. She traced her fingertips down the damp, sloping rock wall of the tunnel. At the end of the short walk, the space opened into an enormous cavern. A rushing stream bisected the space, flowing swiftly from right to left, with a swirling, frothy pocket of water and another of bubbling mud. Carmen saw manmade stone enclosures on either side of the entrance.

“Girls’ room,” he stated and pointed to the right. “Boys’ room”—he indicated with a gesture to his left. “The gnomes diverted parts of the stream to use as plumbing down here. There are modern bathrooms in the castle, plumbed by a different stream, but you can use the toilet here as well. I’ll meet you at the stream.”

Carmen relieved herself in the simple but clean bathroom. It felt odd to have rushing water beneath her, but her urgency helped her get over the discomfiting feeling of a rivulet under her rump.

She found Brock standing nude by the stream’s bank and waiting for her. He seemed impatient and nervous. “Come on,” he urged. “Strip down and get in here with me. This tub is heated by a natural hot spring. It’s amazing.”

“All right, all, right.” Carmen chuckled. “Where’s the fire?” She shucked off her clothes and folded them neatly on the floor of the cavern. Carmen joined Brock next to the bubbling pool, took his hand, and dipped a toe in to test the temperature. “Ooooh! That’s boiling!” she complained. “You’re gonna poach me!”