Page 24 of Witch's Bells and Mistletoe

“There is absolutely no evidence that this is linked to anything supernatural,” the man seated at Mr. Williams’ side interrupts. “This is a clear fearmongering tactic. Mr. Williams is already committed to locating the girls. As for the power outage and the storm? Acts of nature that cannot be blamed on the actions of one man.”

I roll my eyes but otherwise pointedly ignore him, though I’m not encouraged when I see a number of people nod in agreement with him. “I assure you that this is all very real. You all know as well as I do that only so many events can stack up before it ceases to be a coincidence. And it’s your safety that’s at cost. All of these have been warning signs of fairies’ anger, something conveniently disregarded by the owner of The Grand Williams and yet instigated by him when he ceased seeing to the fulfillment of his family’s obligation to them. And then, to add insult to injury, made worse by cutting down the hawthorn grove.”

“Umm, I don’t see what this has to do with fairies,” someone objects, and when I look over in their direction, I see that it’s Melissa. She blushes under my scrutiny but shrugs. “I mean, fairies do nice things like grant wishes and make everything grow and stay orderly, right? My sister and I put little fairy doors up through her house with her kids.”

I groan softly and close my eyes. Thankfully, I don’t feel so alone because I’m not the only one who grimaces. “I’m afraid that’s a very whitewashed view of fairies. Fairies aren’t sweet, wish-granting little beings who love humans. Most don’t even like humans. Others tolerate varying levels of relationships with us as suits them—usually by means of an agreement that benefits them. They are humanity’s good neighbors, but like every good human neighbor, they also require a certain amount of respect, and often a good fence to keep relations cordial,” I say pointedly.

“Do not make promises,” Adeon rumbles from behind me. “Do not interact with them at all if you can avoid it except perhaps to be on your guard and leave a small offering if you are moving through their territory. But if you make a promise,” he peers over at Archie Williams, “by the gods, keep it.”

“I made no promises,” Mr. Williams protests loudly as he shoots to his feet. He impatiently brushes off his advisor. “No, I refuse to allow this character assassination to continue.”

Adeon gives him an unkind smile. “You are the Williams heir, are you not? When you took responsibility for this place, you also took responsibility for all debt—including the one to the Good Neighbors. You not only insulted them by breaking it, but you also attacked first by cutting down the hawthorns, didn’t you?”

The hotelier’s face reddens. “Of course I brought in people to cut it down. All the talk in my family about the hawthorns and feeding the fairies… It’s not only ridiculous but an embarrassing stain on the family. Once I gained control of the hotel, I refused to allow the nonsense to continue any further.”

“But it’s not nonsense, and you know it isn’t,” I challenge shrewdly. “Can you honestly tell me that you’ve never seen them? I imagine that you’ve seen them and resented them, didn’t you? Maybe you couldn’t go away on family vacations like your privileged peers because the fairies needed to be fed. How you were forced to live in a hotel because of them except when you were old enough to be sent away to school. It embarrassed you, and you hated them even more. You may like to deny it and pretend that they don’t exist because it’s a convenient lie to do as you like, but times have changed, and people are learning that all manner of beings share our world. Those poor girls probably even saw them and had no defenses to protect them as they were lured away, and that is your fault.”

His face reddens further, but he’s cut off when a woman steps forward. Her steel gray hair is pulled into a tight knot, giving her an unforgiving look as she crosses her arms. “She’s right. I’ve worked in the kitchens here most of my life. I’ve seen them, and I’ve helped at times with preparing the cream, bits of raw meat, and butter for the elder Mrs. Williams before she passed.” Her eyes narrow. “I’ve also heard Mr. Williams argue with his grandmother about the fairies and on more than one occasion overheard his conversation with his ‘business partner’ seated beside him about his plans to open more of the grounds that were previously off limits.”

She turns slowly, eyeing those around her. “We’d all best take this very seriously.” At the hesitant murmur of agreement, she tips her chin and looks up at me. “You say that the charms that my friends and I made aren’t enough. What do we need to do?”

“The fairy doctor I contacted advised several things. She recommends that Mr. Williams begins by turning over control of the hotel if the harm was intentional. As it seems that it was and he verified it himself, I would suggest to his sister whom his grandmother intended in the end.”

Mr. Williams scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not just handing over the hotel. By all rights this hotel is mine.”

I give him a bored look since this is expected. “Very well. Then it’s you who has to appease the fairies. That is actually the first order of business. Storms generated by fairies don’t tend to last long, so I expect this to be clear by tonight or tomorrow at the latest. When it does, we need to gather all the cream and butter available. Real butter,” I emphasize with a glance over at Melissa. “Margarine isn’t a substitute in this case.”

“Do we even have that much butter among all of us?” a man queries nervously. I immediately recognize the gentleman to whom Mr. Williams spoke in the lobby. He fidgets nervously and looks over at his wife who has paled considerably during our short discussion. “I… I thought I saw one the other day while skiing. Betty and I both saw it.”

His wife nods quickly, her lips thinning. “It was frightening. I thought maybe it was a child playing a joke on us because of the way it smiled at us—it was like it wanted to be seen.” Her hand clasps her husband’s hand and tightens visibly. “If I had known that this were the problem, I would’ve insisted that we left immediately.”

“And then the girls went missing,” her husband thunders, his expression turning furious. “It could have been my wife or any of us on the slopes and none of us would have been any wiser. So I’ll ask again—is there enough butter?”

I look helplessly over at the cook, and she shrugs. “We’ve got some. We cook with a lot of oil and some lard. We’ve cut to using margarine at Mr. William’s insistence due to the prices on butter rising, but we have a small amount left. We’ll probably need to clean out the grocer and anyone who might have some.”

I’m relieved when I see people nod in agreement. Even the younger crowd is nodding.

“Cream is easy enough to get this time of the year,” another offers. “I bought a bunch that I intended to use for the holiday meal, but in this case I think my family can go without.”

More murmurs of agreement respond to that, and another question immediately rises on its heels.

“What else can we do to protect ourselves?”

“The mistletoe and rowan work, as does the hawthorn. Keep the charms around your doors and windows if you can. Witch’s bells at the entrance are advisable as they will often flee at the sound. Iron can also be hung over the entrance if anyone has horseshoes perhaps? There are other things that you can carry on you such as a twig of rowan or hawthorn, or a holy stone if you have one if you must go out. In the spring I’d suggest planting nettles and rowan around the house—and perhaps around the hawthorn grove as well as a barrier. Good fences and all that,” I point out. “When the ground thaws enough I would definitely recommend driving iron spikes into the four corners of your property.”

A worker still clad in his jumper raises his hand. “We have some large metal poles that were meant for construction in the spring. We won’t be able to get them far in the ground, but with the snow as deep as it is we can still perhaps erect them around the hotel and send some out with the townspeople.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Mr. Williams blusters, but his companion gives him a cutting look.

“Oh, be quiet, Archie,” he snaps as he too stands. “This mess is your fault, and mine too for listening to all of your assurances that, after all the monsters started showing up, that the fairy lore around here was nothing but a load of family superstition. The writing is on the wall. This is going to get out. We’re done. If you want any hope of saving face and perhaps still getting that buyout Wilhelmina has repeatedly offered us, you need to quit talking.”

The words are low enough that I hear them, but I’m pretty sure the crowd does not. It is intentional, and I don’t think I’m meant to hear it either. Still, they hit their mark and a look of shock crosses the hotelier’s face before he turns toward me and nods stiffly.

“Very well. What do I need to do?”

“The phone lines are still operational for now,” I add. “Call your sister and invite her to join you at the hotel for the holidays. I will leave it up to you if you wish to tell her anything further of what’s been going on here—that’s none of my business—but turn the business over to her as soon as possible. Then make some calls to replace all the hawthorns you cut down in the spring. You’ll be reimbursing the townspeople for all their butter and cream, so you’re going to be putting the cash in your wallet to good use. You’ll also be getting ahold of the fairy doctor and paying all the expenses up front of her travel here and for any others she might have to take care of. After that,” I give him a hard smile, “I hope you’re prepared to apologize.”

I shouldn’t find the way his eyes widen with fear as he swallows satisfying, but I do. That satisfaction curls deeper and heats when Adeon wraps his arms around me and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

---