Making Plans

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Hilary patted Bracken’s arm. “It’s okay to sit down now,” she said. “All our guests have food and drink and the dining room has never been so comfortable.”

Bracken wrung her hands and looked around the dining room. Hilary was right, the room had never looked so good. Lamps glowed in the corners, their soft light gleaming on the polished wooden mantelpiece and the immaculate pictures. The table was covered with a pristine white tablecloth, an old-fashioned one with a damask pattern of ivy leaves, and the centre of the table held platters overflowing with snacks. The polished sideboard held thermos jugs of tea and coffee together with pitchers of iced water and some bottles of wine. “It is a responsibility!” she said.

“Please come and sit down,” Lord Peregrine said. “We need to start the discussion.” He glanced at Hilary who gave him a pointed look. “One of the main reasons I asked for this meeting to be at Rowan Cottage was the excellence of the food,” he added. “And you have surpassed all expectations.”

Bracken’s eyes widened. “I surpassed!” she whispered to herself as she took a seat next to Hilary.

“Of course, it would have been more comfortable in the library,” Lord Peregrine continued. “But that is obviously not available and I am happy that Miss Hilary felt able to give hospitality.”

“I went into the library this morning,” Hilary said. “It feels fine in there. We would probably have been okay.” She looked around the table. Lord Peregrine was poised but relaxed, almost hiding the wary light in his eyes. Magnus lounged in his hard dining chair, toying with his pen. Cabus was upright with a solitary shortbread finger on a plate in front of him next to his glass of water. Tom was leaning forward, a frown on his face as he turned a gingersnap over in his fingers. Even Bracken, sitting primly on a chair with an extra cushion to give her height, her hands folded neatly in front of her, was stiff with tension. “Whatever is in the cellar is… difficult,” Hilary said. “But we should be safe up here.”

“The cottage is so stacked with wards that it’s almost vibrating,” Lord Peregrine said. “I cannot imagine a safe place. However whatever is down there must be dealt with.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s a creature, a spirit or just some wards with a lot of side effects,” Hilary said.

“Some sort of malignant spirit or ward would be my guess,” Lord Peregrine said. “I’m not easily affected.”

Hilary thought back to some of their earlier tussles. Lord Peregrine was a powerful fae and yet he had been helpless in the cellar. “That’s one of the things that worries me,” she said. “It wasn’t exactly pleasant for me, but at least I could get out.” She looked around the table. “And whatever it was only reacted when we exposed the inscriptions on the wall. Potentially we could go down into the cellar and there would be no trace of anything more dangerous than a miffed cellar spider.” Hilary shrugged. “Or not. It’s like living on top of a landmine. Anything could be down there and I’m not sure that I could deal with it.”

“At least it isn’t Samgan down there,” Cabus pointed out. “Anything that affected Lord Peregrine would also affect him. He would have triggered something already as no pooka could resist twitching curtains. The script would have already been exposed.”

“That is very truthful,” Bracken said solemnly.

“We can’t ignore him,” Magnus said. “I mean, we can’t ignore Samgan. He’s causing havoc. We need to find him and, I don’t know, tell him to stop.”

Hilary looked at him blankly. “Since when has telling a supernatural to stop ever worked?” she asked. “In my experience, telling something like a fae or pooka not to do something is more like an incitement to riot.” She looked at Lord Peregrine who smiled smugly. “They get creative.”

“Sam Scorton lost a day’s money,” Magnus said. “And the smell of the sour milk is still hanging around. Something has to be done.”

“If we can track him down, we may be able to talk with him,” Cabus said. “I’m not saying that pookas are all creatures of reason and logic, but it feels like Samgan is angry about something and, if we can mitigate that, then we may be able to soothe his feelings and get some peace back.”

“We still can’t ignore what happened in the cellar,” Tom said. “Because if Samgan does get in and decide to poke around, anything could happen.” He looked at Lord Peregrine. “No disrespect, but if Hilary hadn’t been able to cover the wall and drag you out, what do you think would have happened?”

“Something was definitely manifesting,” Hilary said. “But I have no idea what. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.”

“Perhaps I could accompany you down there?” Cabus said. “I’m not fae.”

Hilary tried to find the correct words. “I don’t know…” she said. “Do you know, I think I’d like a glass of wine.”

“You’re a creature of darkness,” Lord Peregrine told Cabus bluntly. “You could be possessed.”

“I doubt it,” Cabus said coolly. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“I bet you do,” Magnus murmured. He turned to Hilary. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine myself.”

“I’ll get it,” Tom said, jumping to his feet. “At least I’ll be doing something useful. I feel completely helpless here.”

“You were far from useless when we had to sort out Sam’s dairy,” Hilary said. “You got the cows back in the barn and pulled down that awful poppet that had been stuck in the corner.”

“That was odd,” Lord Peregrine said. “There was something distorted about it, something that I don’t think Samgan could or would do. I don’t doubt that he was responsible for the milk turning despite all the precautions in the machinery, but that poppet was wrong.” He pulled out his phone and opened it. “I took a picture.”

Cabus looked at it thoughtfully, ignoring Magnus hanging over his shoulder. “That looks like a perfectly innocent, protective dolly that you can find on any of a dozen farms but…”

Lord Peregrine nodded. “Something twisted this before Samgan got there.”

“Annie was supposed to be sorting out that milking shed,” Magnus said, shuddering and backing away from the picture. “Sam Scorton has had no luck in there at all. Machinery is always breaking, cows are not giving as much or drying up early. The vet has had to come round a few more times than you would expect.” He gestured at the picture on Lord Peregrine’s phone. “I suppose we know why now.”

“The milking shed is adjacent to one of the worst affected magical streams,” Cabus said. “The energy in that flow is twisted and difficult to predict. Annie may have placed the poppet in good faith and the local flow caused it to degrade.” He carefully turned his shortbread on his plate. “And that would have helped Samgan. He may even had subconsciously drawing our attention to the matter. Pookas are sensitive to magical flow.”

“We need the notebooks,” Hilary said. “This all started because we were looking for the notebooks for the cottage, because we are all concerned about the flow of magic being disrupted.” She smiled her thanks to Tom as he poured red wine into her glass. “There should be records of the poppet, and records of what she did to the walls.”

“The notebooks looked quite old,” Lord Peregrine said. “A little white wine, Tom.” He caught Bracken’s eye. “If you please.”

“Some looked old,” Hilary said. “And I may spend some time scanning and re-copying. The Council is always chasing old notebooks. But some of those notebooks were newer and there were some blank ones stacked to one side. I’d bet that Annie was taking notes.” She took a small sip of wine. “What was she like, anyway?” She looked around the table. “I heard that she was a little sharp tempered.”

There was an awkward silence before Lord Peregrine cleared his throat. “She had the temperament of a badger with toothache, the dulcet tones of a donkey with tonsilitis and the generosity of a butcher’s dog.” He spread his hands helplessly. “She was not particularly popular, but she did her duty. In places where magical flows are so active, you need to have a strong personality, which she did…”

“She really did,” muttered Magnus.

Lord Peregrine raised an eyebrow before continuing. “But Annie could be relied on to provide minor charms for anyone that had the courage to approach her.”

“Like the poppet at Sam’s farm,” Magnus said. “And she helped a few of the cubs out when they were going through their first shifts. It’s always a tricky time for them, but Annie helped out.”

“And was guaranteed to pick an argument with the mother, or cause problems between siblings, or knock over something breakable,” Tom added. “I remember when the only thing she did was compare our grandmother’s cooking to pig slop and we were all relieved.” He stopped suddenly for a moment and caught Magnus’ eye.

“We’ll speak later,” Magnus said gruffly. “But coming back to the point. We need to find Samgan and we need to work out what is going on in the cellar.”

“You say that the library feels fine?” Cabus asked Hilary. She nodded. Cabus carefully realigned his shortbread before continuing. “The cellar is not important in itself. Right now, the important thing is the retrieval of those notebooks. I suggest that I attend late tomorrow evening, after I’ve fortified myself.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Tom asked.

Lord Peregrine shook his head. “Whatever was manifesting was pure evil,” he said. “And extremely powerful. I do not wish you to be possessed.”

“It is purely a matter of planning,” Cabus said. He picked up his wine glass and caught Tom’s eye. “I would be grateful if you could pour me a little wine – white, if you have it.” He watched Tom pour and took a small sip. “Hilary, you saw how many notebooks were stacked. Would it fill up more than one bag?”

Hilary exchanged a glance with Lord Peregrine. “I’ve got some big supermarket reusable bags,” she said. “I think that there were at least three bags full, if not more.”

“And those were the ones that we could see,” Lord Peregrine added. “It would be profitable to get as many out as possible. There may be more in the workroom.”

“I shall stand at the top of the stairs,” Cabus said. “I shall remain alert and venture down if it seems necessary.” He took a deep breath. “Hilary will go down the stairs carrying the bags and a rope. I’ll have the other end of the rope.”

“So you can pull Hilary out, just in case?” Tom asked.

Cabus shook his head. “My initial thought was that Hilary would fill the bags as quickly as she could. We would only retrieve the notebooks on the shelves on this trip, without searching for further information.”

“I’d be very surprised if there weren’t records in that workroom,” Hilary said.

“They can wait,” Cabus said. “As soon as a bag is filled, the handles can be tied to the rope, and I can pull the bags up – carefully!” The smallest hint of a smile flickered across his face. “I know how valuable and potentially fragile these notebooks are. I will untie the bag as soon as I pull it up to the top of the stairs, then I’ll throw the rope down for the next bag. That seems an efficient way to approach it.”

“I suppose it does,” Hilary said unhappily.

“You shouldn’t trouble yourself too much about keeping the notebooks in order,” Cabus said. “Just pack them carefully but tightly, empty the shelves and get back up as soon as possible. You say that you were unaffected in the living room?”

Hilary nodded. “But something may have leaked into it since then,” she said.

“Then the quicker you retrieve the notebooks, the better,” Cabus said. He turned to Bracken. “I would ask you and Tom to stay in the library, a little way back,” he said to the brownie. “You are the best chance of us quickly finding extra bags and baskets if they are needed.” He looked at Tom. “And I would appreciate someone with good reflexes and strength if things go wrong.”

“And because werewolves don’t easily fall under the control of vampires,” Tom said.

Cabus nodded. “That is true. I doubt that I could easily control anyone sitting around this table.” He smiled thinly. “That is a refreshing change.” He took another small sip of wine.

“And what about Samgan?” Magnus asked.

Cabus looked at Lord Peregrine. “You are the lord here,” he said. “I’m reluctant to make suggestions.”

“Please, suggest as much as you like,” Lord Peregrine said. “You seem to have plenty of ideas.”

“I suggest that our efforts are split,” Cabus said. “Hilary has mundane work to do, but outside of those efforts, she should concentrate on the notebooks and the issues with the cellar. I am happy to volunteer my aid.”

Hilary thought about the overflowing shelves. “Please, I’ll take as much help as you can spare,” she said. “And if you’ve lived in these parts for a while, the local knowledge will be so useful.”

Cabus nodded. “While we focus on the notebooks, Lord Peregrine and Magnus should pursue Samgan, perhaps starting by investigating the room under the new stores. I’m confident that you will know how to continue.”

“What about me?” Tom asked.

“And I is helpful,” Bracken added.

“I do not doubt either of you,” Cabus said. “Tom, you are busy with the opening of the new stores which can’t be abandoned. However, please keep your phone charged. I know how useful you are when things are unexpectedly dark.”

Tom shrugged and poured himself a cup of tea. “I’ll keep my phone on me.”

Cabus turned to Bracken. “Miss Hilary will be busy with work and the study of these old records, many of which will no doubt be obscure. She will need you to keep the house clean and to provide food.”

Bracken lifted her chin proudly. “I can be of use,” she said firmly. “And there will be plenty of food.”

“Which is just as well,” Lord Peregrine said. “The new lodger will be turning up tomorrow, probably in the evening.”

“What new lodger?” Hilary asked, her eyes narrowing. “What have you got me into? You’re not my lord, you know.” She leaned forward. “Keep pushing and I won’t make you any more brown butter biscuits.”

Lord Peregrine shrugged. “I thought that it was time that you had a new guest,” he said.